A Beautiful Torment

39. Paume

I followed Sergei to a bright, open room at the back of the house. The back wall consisted entirely of glass, the wallpaper a vanilla shade with darker, Celtic designs imprinted along the edges. Stacks of chairs and tables lined the sides of the room, and, considering its proximity to the kitchen, I guessed that this room had once been used as an informal dining room.

Today, however, all the furniture had been shoved back from the wooden panels on the floor, and an old-fashioned gramophone rested on an old, ornamental end table by the window. Soft music whispered from the instrument, a song I vaguely recognized from my mother's classical CD collection.

"Wait here," Sergei instructed.

I nodded slowly, wandering over to the window to peer outside. Whatever natural light might have filtered through the windows was now blocked by the ever-growing maze outside in the garden, and the room was flooded with light from the electric light-bulbs overhead, despite it being the middle of the day.

My thoughts eventually drifted in the direction of my walk outside, and Sergei's interruption. What did I need a dance instructor for? Why would I be dancing? I would have to be blind not to notice that everybody in the house was preparing for a big event, but how big could a council meeting get, exactly? Sophia wasn't very forthcoming with details of the event – every time I broached the topic, she clammed up and became really moody. I had a feeling that somebody connected to her past and the reason why she was here in the first place was expected to attend this council thing. The closer the equinox grew, the more withdrawn she became.

I'd thought about asking Nikolas, but when he wasn't training Wyatt, it was almost impossible to find him. I figured that he was running errands for Draper – now that the demons were preparing for war, it made sense that Nikolas was particularly busy – but the longer I waited to speak to him, the more my frustration grew. It wasn't just the equinox – a part of me still struggled to understand why, exactly, he was "on my side". When Wyatt had first started watching out for me, it was pretty easy for me to comprehend: I'd cared for him when nobody else had, offering him part of my lunch and sticking up for him when no one else did. To him, protecting me was like returning a favour.

But what had I ever done to Nikolas to deserve his protection?

The thought didn't sit well with me.

I slid my knee along the edge of the windowsill, leaning my head against the pane of glass, but before I could sit properly and get comfortable, the door to the informal dining room swung open and a woman stepped inside. She was incredibly tall and willowy, with crazy, grey hair and a lazy eye. Her good eye seemed to focus on me immediately, a stern expression etched into her face, and an uncomfortable feeling lodged in the pit of my stomach.

She was like some sort of strict, Victorian governess. Even her clothes were like something from a different century: long, drab and formless. High-necked.

Her good eye roved over my figure critically, before she made a clucking sound in the back of her throat and moved toward the gramophone.

"Stand," she bid. Her voice was heavily accented and throaty.

I stood, chewing nervously on my lip.

She sighed impatiently and fastened her long, tapered fingers around my wrist. They were surprisingly wrong, completely at odds with the expression on her face, and I yelped in surprise when she yanked me away from the window, pulling me into the centre of the room.

"Do not slouch," she said, glaring at me.

I made an effort to straighten my shoulders, a sliver of apprehension surging through me. "Are you Halldis?" I inquired in a low, nervous voice.