She crossed through the portal before I could respond, the door swinging shut behind her. Slowly, the materials blended back into the wall of brick, the doorknob fading into nothingness.
The warning loomed over me, jagged and sharp. For all of the help the Sleeper had provided us, it was apparent that ulterior motives steered the flow of his aid. If our suspicions were correct, and he had been the one to orchestrate the Cradle’s fall, then there would be no avoiding a conflict.
A conflict that would center around the ones most precious to me.
I pushed the worries from my mind before they could consume me. The time to face them would come soon enough, but right now, I was needed elsewhere.
Voices rose from within the apartment as I opened the door, my senses assaulted with a burst of perfume as I navigated past a wall of posh-looking luggage stacked by the entrance.
“—being held hostage in this shabby flat for nearly three days! Now that tart with the pretty eyes is telling me that we can’t leave!”
The sharp voice rang familiar, and I moved down the hallway, halting at the sight of a tall Unseen with long leporine ears crowning his head of grey hair, standing outside the study.
“Master Cirian,” the man addressed me, bowing at the waist.
“Hello, Winston. Lovely to see you again.”
“The sentiment is mutual,” he replied, straightening once more.
“I’m certain this is all just a misunderstanding?—”
Bastien’s voice was cut off by the sound of shattering glass.
“What’s going on in there?” I asked, pointing to the closed door.
“My lady is quite displeased that we were barred from departure this morning. She finds her current surroundings to be most distasteful.”
The Reviled were preventing her from leaving? I would have thought anyone in their right mind would seize the opportunity to be rid of Amelia VanDoughten.
Twisting the knob, the door swung open just as a throw pillow streaked towards me. I bat the cushion away, magic brimming at my fingertips as a reflex while I take in the scene. The study was in chaos, with towers of Bastien’s books having been toppled and one of the heavy leather chairs overturned on its side. Amelia stood by the window, another pillow raised over her head and a crazed look in her eyes.
“Good afternoon, Amelia,” I greeted her, my gaze drifting over to Bastien, who peeked his head up from behind the sofa, where he’d been taking cover. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“I’ve been sentenced to death in this nightmarish town,” Amelia replied, hugging her makeshift weapon to her chest.
“That’s not true,” Bastien interjected.
“It might as well be! If I don’t get some fresh air soon, I’ll absolutely pass away. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“Who was it that stopped you from leaving?” I asked her, trying to piece together what little detail I could gather.
“Oh, I can’t recall her name. Wilfred? Winona?”
“Wilhelm,” answered Bastien, cautiously leaving his sheltered spot to join me. “I’ll have to go speak with her.”
“Why would Wilhelm have kept her from leaving?”
“It wasn’t just me,” Amelia interrupted. “That vile woman wanted me to hand Lynette over. Said that Lenny was too dangerous to let out of Paradise. How preposterous is that? Lynette wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Bastien and I shared a quizzical look.
“She’s killed dozens of people, Amelia.”
The woman huffed, tossing a golden curl from her eyes. “Well, if you’re being nitpicky, sure. But that doesn’t mean that she’s a bad person!”
“Where is Lynette now?” I asked.
“Upstairs with Tobias. She doesn’t like it when I get upset, so I put her up there to spare her nerves.”
