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CHAPTER40
JAKUB
“Jakub, the guests are beginning to arrive,” Leon calls after me as I stride across the courtyard and towards the Numbers wing of the castle, my dress shoes clicking across the cobbled stone.
“I’m well aware, Leon,” I say, spinning on my feet as I look over at him. “I’m just tying up some loose ends. It won’t take long.”
“Loose ends? I thought we agreed to leave One alone.” He reaches up and adjusts his mask, the shiny black surface like inky midnight as he regards me.
“This isn’t to do with One. Besides, she’s already with the other Numbers getting ready for the show..”
“Then whatareyou up to, brother?”
“Trying to fix a mistake. Trying to be better. Do better.” I laugh, tipping my head back to the sky at the lightness I feel admitting that. “I’ve spent my whole life being the villain, the man who inflicts pain, who hurts people. Tonight I want to change that, Leon.”
“Seven and Three?” he asks.
“Yes. I owe them an apology. More actually, but it’s a start.”
“Fair enough,” Leon responds, his gaze flipping from me to The Weeping Tree and back again. His hand absentmindedly rubbing over his chest. “She really did bring us back to life, didn’t she?”
“Yes, brother. She really did,” I reply solemnly, a light breeze tickling the nape of my neck, almost as though the ghost of Marie just traced her fingers over my skin. Perhaps she did.
“Konrad is greeting the guests, and I can cover you for a short while. Don’t be too long.”
“I won’t be.” Leon twists on his feet but I call after him. “Wait!”
“Yes?” he asks, cocking his head.
“Any sign of them?”
“No. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps they’re not—”
“They’re coming,” I interrupt. “So keep your eyes sharp.”
“Got it, and brother…?”
“Yes?”
Leon fists his fingers and bashes his hand over his heart, once, twice, three times.
I raise my fist and mirror him. “Me too, brother. Me too,” I say, before he turns on his heels and strides out of the courtyard, disappearing from sight.
Tapping lightly on the door Three shares with Seven, I wait. Beyond I can hear low voices followed by light footsteps moving towards the door. A moment later it swings open and I come face to face with Seven. Anger flashes in his gaze before he hides it behind a veil of controlled respect. It seems like I’m not the only one who’s capable of wearing a mask to hide his emotions.
“I need just a moment of your time,” I say, tempering my voice so it sounds less like a command and more of a request.
“Seven, who is it?” Three calls out.
Seven flicks his gaze over his shoulder then back at me. “She isn’t healed.” This time I see the words he doesn’t say written across the tightness of his shoulders, the grit of his jaw and knuckle-white grip on the door.
He wants me to back the fuck off. I don’t blame him.
“That’s not why I’m here. I just want to talk. Nothing more.”
“Seven, who is it?” Three persists, walking towards him. As soon as she sees me her face drops, fear cascading across her features. “Master, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
Seven’s grip tightens even more on the doorframe at her welcome. It grates on him.
