Lord Liverchester

Chapter 4

The new day's sunshine stroked my cheek, casting gold light through my hair and over the dusty bed. I opened my eyes to be blinded, squinting and burying my face into the pillows. Novella stirred beside me, woken up from her deep sleep. She hid her face in my shoulder, grabbing at my chest. She gripped me tighter than ever, kissing my skin where my shirt had fallen to expose it. I loosely held her, stroking her soft hair. She never took it down from the tight braid that wrapped around her head. She smelled so sweet, like a field of flowers and honey. I kissed her forehead, shielding from the sun by covering my exposed eye with a lock of my hair. It stayed there, the curl wrapping itself across my face. I sighed softly, my eyes never adjusting to the light. I looked toward the window in annoyance, seeing Artois curled up at our feet. He was sleeping, his ear twitching to whisk away dust. Afraid to wake him, I put my head back down. I was ready to start the day, hearing a choir in my head. I wanted to jump out of bed and run through Stainthorpe Estate like a crazy person. It would only annoy my friends, like it annoyed my family. Still, I started to pull from Novella's grip, picking myself up from the warm space. She followed along, straightening out the mess we left of the blankets. I let her, getting dressed. Artois opened one eye, watching me. I pet his head, sitting next to him. He pretended to go back to sleep, putting his paw over his eyes. Wishing I could be so lazy, I put my clothes back on, looking out the dusty window to the world outside. The heavy black curtain that once covered it was tattered and barely hanging on. The sun was shining but the sky was gray, very overcast. I still hoped we would have a happy day, that things would go our way. Knowing what was outside, likely waiting for us and plotting against us, I felt sick. I stared at the bedroom door, wondering how Dorian felt, how he was doing. Despite not feeling like I was really prepared, I stood and made my way for the door. I was on autopilot and supposing I had to go check. Artois lifted his head and Novella stopped messing with the pillows, both of them watching me.

"I'll be back," I told them. "I'm just going to check on Dorian."

They still watched me as I left, shutting the door behind me. It was a heavy door, making a not-so-quiet noise when I shut it. I'm not sure what I was trying to be so quiet about, as Dorian and Bladrian were the only other people there. I suppose I was trying to sneak up on Dorian, but then I knocked on his office door. The door was so thick and hard that it hurt my knuckles. I held my hand, cursing under my breath. Focusing on my pain, I missed what Dorian yelled in response. He didn't sound well, almost distressed. I spent a few seconds trying to decide what he said. It was either "go away" or "what do you want". Or maybe it was "come on in". It was a drunken shout, so the slurred speech could have been four syllables that sounded like two, or two that sounded like three, or any other number in that range. For some reason, I was afraid to go in.

"Okay good, you're alive," I said back, too quiet to be heard. "I'll just... stand here."

I looked around. Now that the sun was up, the house looked different. In the light, the hallway appeared a happy bright place. It was carpeted red and dark yellow, with a floral pattern. The walls were a dark stained wood, with torch-like lights on the wall every 5 feet or so. It looked like a perfectly healthy house except for some old water spots on the ceiling where the roof had once leaked. I admired my surroundings, how well the house was put together. Again, I wondered how rich Dorian had to be to afford it. My family had a large estate too from my grandfather owning a successful business. Dorian didn't seem like a business man; he wasn't clean cut enough. He acted more like what he was, a war scarred writer. I was afraid to ask, so I wouldn't, hoping the answers would emerge over my time with him. I put my ear against the door, holding my breath to hear whatever I could hear. Papers rustled and Dorian was mumbling. I knocked again, softer that time; my knuckles were still stinging. The sounds stopped, replaced by heavy footsteps. I stepped back and waited.