Theodore found his head bouncing off the glass window, the pain momentarily blinding him.
Nina was shouting, Patrick’s face looming an inch from his, ice in his eyes. The grip of his wide hand around Theo’s throat, threatening its collapse.
“Wrong,” Patrick growled, the tendons in his hand flexing. “Never met a man who was wrong so often.”
Theo’s hands went desperately to Patrick’s, trying to peel it away. He couldn’t breathe.
“You’ll kill him, Patrick!”
“I would,” Patrick agreed coldly. “Do you feel it, Teddy?” His hand tightened, sent Theodore onto his toes. “I’d do it without losin’ a single night’s sleep.”
Black curtained Theo’s sight, curling inward. But he still felt Patrick’s steaming breath wash over his face.
And then he was on the floor, his legs numb, his side searing, his vision returning in spots of color.
“I told you, it ain’t my place to say whether you stay or leave. She’s the one who decides,” Patrick said, somewhere above Theo. “And if she says leave, best you find that genteel nature of yours and listen to her. I’m only waitin’ on a reason to beat the shit out of you.”
Oxygen rushed into Theo’s lungs, and he bent over on himself, his head down. He didn’t want to see Nina’s reaction, didn’t want Patrick to see the tears that had sprung free. He felt Nina bend tentatively beside him, her breaths too fast, heard Patrick’s footsteps recede.
He wanted to shout at Nina, point to Patrick’s receding back and say,See? That’s the man you’re following. That’s what he becomes in the night.
Theo gripped his throat and shrugged off embarrassment, and with Nina’s wary hand on his shoulder, felt more resolve than he ever had.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVENINA
Through the thin walls, I thought I could hear the other rooms thrumming, sleep evading us all.
I imagined Theo wrestling with himself on the settee, Patrick on the other side of the wall I was curled against, knuckles still pulsing. His father languishing on the mattress, strangely subdued since his foray into town.
I glanced over at Polly beside me on her own bed. Her eyes stuck on the ceiling, her lips moving in spell work, or prayer perhaps.
I simply dwelled. I knew I was right to cut the tie between Theo and me. He imagined a time and place where war wouldn’t touch me. Where I could make choices that wouldn’t impact all of Belavere. What he failed to understand was that I was a runaway train. The collision was imminent.
“He loves you, you know,” Polly whispered to me. She was holding what looked to be letters to her chest. Her fingers moved over them. “Spoke about you nearly every hour we waited together in Kenton Hill.” She went quiet for a time, and I prayed she would say no more. “I just thought it should be said, in case he hasn’t yet found the courage to say it out loud.”
She turned over then, and I was spared further barbs. I didn’t sleep a wink, and when dawn came, I felt as though the sun taunted me, rising unhurriedly.
The rooms beyond the walls roused.
We met in the living room once properly dressed. Theo’s brow was lined in deep thought, and his gaze met mine immediately. I shirked it. John leanedagainst a china cabinet. Polly clasped a cloak around her throat, and Patrick took the coin from his pocket and gripped it tightly.
“Every half hour, Theo will exit the library to the front steps. He will send the signal that all is well. If he comes out early, then something is wrong. If he’s late…” Here Patrick glared at Theo. “Then we can assume they’ve been apprehended in some way.” He looked to the book in Polly’s hand. “If that happens, Polly is to try and leave theTestamentbehind somewhere, along with her translations, for us to find later. But above all, Theo, if someone comes for Polly or you, then you ought to fight your way out.” He handed Theo a gun. There was a second as it traded hands, when Theo pulled and Patrick refused to let go.
But then it vanished into Theo’s coat pocket, and neither traded another word.
“Will there be anyone at that library who recognizes you?” Patrick asked Polly.
She shrugged. “I doubt it. It’s a big city, a big library. Easy enough to stay hidden in the stacks.”
“Then you’ll be quick,” Patrick implored her. “Done by nightfall at the latest, or we’re comin’ in.” It sounded more like a threat than a promise.
We departed Trunk Antiques gradually, and I gave the old woman a tight hug before I left in case we never returned. The piano played a somber farewell.
Patrick accompanied me into the lane a fair distance behind John and a bigger distance behind Theo and Polly. We each bled into the tide of Lavnonshire patrons, trying to look normal.
Shop doors opened and shut, the first wagons and horses pushed up the street, and streetlamps were snuffed out by hand. Gulls swooped in lazy circles overhead, and in all the activity, the ocean’s roar was never quite drowned out.
I was dressed like an Artisan, and Patrick like a Crafter, and so we walked with a careful space between us. Anything closer might have drawn suspicion, even in Lavnonshire.
