Into The Crucible

CHAPTER VII: Ember Ignited

LILIA

SLEEP had managed to visit, and I welcomed it with folded arms. It was too warm inside. The waiting room's benches were no bed, but I sank into them like they were the softest in the world. Yet I'd fade in and out of consciousness, waking at moments when I wasn't sure if I was actually awake. Moments that'd constantly pull me away, keeping any comfort just an arm's length away. What little I had was washed away, bit by bit. Intrusive thoughts bothered and stung me like wasps.

Rest was shallow. Soon I'd awakened again, this time to the sound of voices. Murmurs.

I massaged my temples. My head felt light. The room slowly swam into focus. Figures took shape. The one sitting at the other end of the bench, faced away from me, head held high. Cecil.

A shadow moved across the wall, accompanied by the heavy click of shoes, and my father came around the corner.

The figure snapped to attention like soldiers. I blinked once, and again, holding my eyes closed for a few seconds, wondering if was seeing a mirage. But I wasn't. Dressed in a deep blue business suit, with glinting gold glasses perched on his high nose. He was really here. His face was unnervingly stoic, even with his own eyes downcast.

I stood, folding my arms across my chest. Cecil approached him. They exchanged a quick hushed conversation, both casting glances at the wider hallway. I couldn't hear what they were talking about. The butler's hands fell to his sides. My father dipped his head. For once he seemed unsure of himself.

I lowered my own head, almost burying myself in the folds of my scarf. My mouth was dry. Beads of sweat had dried on my skin, leaving it clammy and viscid.

He locked eyes with me and his impassive expression softened. I shuffled forward, keeping my head down. The few feet crossed felt like a walking across an empty field.

"I . . . I couldn't just stay in the tower. He . . ." The words, or any words at all, dissipated like mist. "He . . ."

"I know," he said hoarsely. "I know."

My throat grew thick. The wound began to wake and throb. I wanted to tear away at the gauze.

"Do you?"

He grew rigid, looking directly at me with no visible emotion in his eyes. A mask of a man. He lowered his brows, sighing and letting his own gaze fall to the floor. Dark rings stood prominent beneath his eyes. I wondered if he had slept. I wondered what he had done. Where he had gone. Why he had left.

He waved away the two men and nodded for me to follow him towards a window. His gaze were pointed beyond the glass.

"Lilia, there's too much to handle tonight." He turned fully. "And I don't want you to worry any mote than you already have. Go back to Talos. It's almost morning, so complete your sleep. You'll need it."

My head raised in alarm. "Sleep? How can I sleep?"

"Cecil has told me you have spent the nights restlessly." He glanced around furtively. "Talos a better place than here. Perhaps . . ."

My grip on my arms tightened. His disposition turned from solemn to contemplative. There was no mark of distraught in his face. How is he so calm?

"There are policemen there," I said. "And the people . . . they'll want to know, and they'll begin to hound me if I show my face. By now they'll know it was Lucian. He was at that party. Word will spread fast and I'll . . . we'll get caught in the middle."

"The police will do their job," he stated, but his tone said otherwise.

"But-"

He held up a hand to silence me. "The speculation of other people isn't our biggest obstacle. I dare to say they can try to pry, but it will come to no avail."