The Marí

Part 28

I clasped my hands together, pressing my knuckles into the polished wood of the table to ground myself. The room blurred, my thoughts racing, as the voice pressed in once more.

"Ask yourself, why do you hesitate?" The voice cut through my thoughts again, its tone sharper, more urgent. "You believe he is a danger to you, and yet you linger. Why?"

The words struck a nerve, making my breath hitch. My mind scrambled to recall the first time I'd heard this voice—that's right, the night I left Brushtn. Then again, faintly, at the festival grounds. And now, here, in this grand but unnervingly cold dining room.

This time, I was certain it wasn't just me or some random thoughts. There was a purpose behind those words, a weight that hung heavily on my shoulders.

"Who are you? What do you mean?" I thought back. Desperation creeping into my mind, seeking clarity. But as quickly as it had come, the voice receded, leaving me with a deepening silence that felt like a gaping chasm echoing with my unanswered questions. My heart pounded in the stillness, a reminder of the growing anxiety tightening around my chest.

Suddenly, the door barged open, the noise jarring me from my thoughts. Lena stood in the doorway, looking as if she had never been lost or hurt, her features radiating an extreme calm. Her dress was pristine, her hair perfectly coiffed, and there was a smug smile playing on her lips. A group of maids, including Hena, trailed softly behind her, their faces blank, carrying trays and pitchers like they were part of some strange, silent procession.

"Well, what do we have here? Looks like the weed has finally reached Eden," Lena chimed as she sauntered toward the table, her voice dripping with mockery. She placed herself directly in front of me, her eyes gleaming with a predatory glint that made my skin crawl. I felt my heart race, and my stomach twisted with a mix of fear and indignation.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my nerves, rolling my eyes despite the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. "I'm glad you're well, Lena," I said, attempting to inject nonchalance into my voice, but exhaustion seeped into my words instead. Facing her was never easy; her presence stirred up a blend of dread and irritation. At least she was not dead—though I kind of wished she was. I had totally forgotten how much of a nuisance she could be.

Her smile widened, revealing sharp teeth that gleamed in the candlelight. "You could have just run away with Simon when you had the chance, Merald. But do tell me, how is your... little play date with our dear Marí going?" She tilted her head, her blue eyes flicking toward the chair Morpheus had vacated. "Not as sweet as you imagined, hmm?"

Simon? How did she know about my encounter with Simon that night? I tensed, her words striking closer to my buried fears. There was something unsettling about the way she spoke, as if she knew more than she let on—about the voice, about Morpheus, maybe even about me. My mind whirled with questions, but I swallowed them down, unwilling to show just how rattled I felt. Instead, I forced a smile.

"I don't suppose you've come to help, have you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just here to gloat?"

Lena's smile turned sharper, and she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Help? Oh no my dear, I'm here to watch you unravel. You have no idea who you're messing with, Merald."

"Your Majesty, the Lord awaits. Certainly, we should not keep him waiting," Hena stuttered, obviously trying to curb the tense atmosphere.

Lena's head snapped toward Hena, followed by a low growl. As expected, I rolled my eyes at the thought—such a dog.

"I'll see you around," she said, her voice holding a promise as she gracefully withdrew from the table and toward the door, not without casting a final, pointed glance back at me.