Denial

DENIAL

There was a storm in my dreamscape. I ran in circles, driven from its heart. Caught in the dark, my spirit was stumbling, lashed by windblown red petals.

Outside, in just as thick a gloom, my body was in agony. Nashira had got her proof of my gift; now she could only be killing me for it.

This must be a flux overdose. I wondered what it would be like, to witness my own death from the inside – to be trapped in my mind when it vanished from the æther, leaving me disembodied for good. No dreamscape could hold its shape in a corpse.

Paige, can you hear me?

The voice came from outside. It faded, and I was running again, trapped in the circles of the mind where no other spirit could tread. I glimpsed my sunlit zone in the distance – the only place I would be safe – but each time I tried to run to it, I was forced back into the shadows. That place should have been the eye of the storm. Now it was in turmoil.

All living things had a dreamscape. Of the many concepts Jaxon had taught me in the early days, it had probably been the hardest to grasp. Where the brain controlled the body, the dreamscape housed and nurtured the spirit. It was a haven, the strongbox of memory. Mine took the form of a field of red poppies.

Even amaurotics could glimpse their dreamscapes, though only in their sleep, in shades of grey. As for voyants, we could enter ours consciously – wander our minds, bask in their colours. Most could stray no farther than the sunlit zone, the centre.

I could go anywhere.

Now I could see flashes of the world outside my body. In my mind, I grew calm, watching as the storm receded. I lay down in my flowers and waited for the end.

In the Founders Tower, the gramophone was warbling ‘Did You Ever See a Dream Walking?’ – one of my blacklisted favourites. From what I could feel, I was back on the daybed. Someone had put me in a pair of shorts, propped me on my side with cushions, and tucked a sheet around me, leaving my shoulders bare.

My eyes cracked open. The fire was out, and only candles lit the parlour.

As I gazed at the ceiling, my heart started to pound. I had a vague memory of a violent struggle, and two excruciating pains, one after the other. Now the back of my right shoulder burned with a ferocious heat, and my left thigh felt swollen and strained.

I turned my head. It was too dark for me to make out the time, but I could see Arcturus Mesarthim. He sat in the wing chair, decanting medicine into a silver cup.

My lips trembled. I could still feel his grip on me, holding me back, stopping me reaching Seb as he died. I doubted he cared about the pointless murder, or the other humans enslaved in Amaurotic House. Even his dealings with his consort seemed mechanical.

He must have sensed my hostile gaze, because he looked up from his work. His eyes had settled back to a steady apple-gold.

‘His spirit,’ I forced out. ‘Did it leave?’

‘No.’

Seb had died in a state of utter fear and confusion. If no one had said the threnody, he would linger – still afraid, still alone, still a prisoner.

‘You were branded,’ Warden said quietly. ‘You must be mindful of the wound.’

‘What?’

The word escaped me as a whisper. My breathing turned ragged as I twisted to look over my shoulder, reaching for the pain with one hand, clutching the sheet with the other. A shudder of denial racked me as I found the raw numerals, burned into my skin.

‘You’ll suffer for this, Reph.’ I hissed the words between my teeth. ‘I meant what I said. You don’t know who you’ve crossed.’

Warden flicked his gaze over my face, like he was trying to read an unfamiliar language, which only stoked my anger. He must understand why I was distraught.

‘Suhail overheard your last threat. He took umbrage,’ he said. ‘To punish you, he injected you with flux, but his knowledge of human anatomy is wanting. The needle entered your femoral artery.’

I got the sheet off my leg and saw the mottled skin of my left thigh, the slew of dark purple that stained it. When I applied the slightest pressure, I had to strangle my own scream.

‘Suhail acted rashly. He has been reprimanded,’ Warden said. ‘A paramedic was called from our outpost at Winterbrook. She removed you from immediate danger.’ He picked up the silver cup and brought it to me. ‘All you need do now is drink this.’

Several amber bottles stood on the table. I looked at them in a haze of pain.

Maybe Nashira had tried to kill me, using Suhail as her executioner. Either it hadn’t worked, or she wanted me to die a slow and painful death. Her consort was well placed to finish me off.

It could be poison in that cup. Even if it was medicine, he wasn’t offering it to me out of kindness. I clamped my mouth shut.

‘Your condition may deteriorate,’ Warden said. ‘Is that what you want?’

‘Our lives clearly mean nothing to you,’ I rasped. ‘Why do you care if I die?’

‘You are not ready.’

‘Seb wasn’t, either.’ My throat was in agony. ‘Whether you’re trying to kill me or save my life, I won’t help you. Or your consort.’

He narrowed his eyes a little.

‘Very well. I will not force you.’ He placed the cup on the table, out of my reach, and returned to his chair. ‘Inform me in your own time if you wish to live.’

‘Get fucked.’

Warden gave me a measured look. I turned my head away, my sight blurred.

I couldn’t tell you how long I lay there, weak and burning up. All I could think was how much he must be enjoying this. Now it was him with the power again; him watching me suffer and sweat.

The clock ticked on the mantelpiece. At some point, dawn broke, and the day bell rang.

Warden stayed right in his chair.

Apparently he could sit very still and do nothing for hours. He left just once and returned with a basin, which he placed beside the daybed.

My thigh looked strained and shiny, like a blister on the verge of bursting. I pressed the tender skin and kept on pressing, harder and harder, until stars burst in my vision. I had hoped it would knock me out, just so I could have a short bout of relief. Instead, I threw up. Warden watched me cough acidic bile into the basin.

He wanted me to beg for death. I would not give him the satisfaction.

The daylight faded into dusk. I heard the night bell ring.

If Aludra let Julian out, he would have no idea where I was. I could only think of this because the pain – inexplicably – had gone.

So had the sensation in my leg.

Fear chilled my spine. I tried to move my toes, rotate my ankle, but nothing happened.

‘If you wait any longer,’ Warden said, ‘you may lose your leg, if not your life.’

I would have gladly spat at him, but the vomiting had dehydrated me. When he brought me the cup again, I shook my head.

‘Do not be a fool,’ Warden said, softer. ‘This medicine will ensure your recovery. Take it, and you will be able to stand by midnight.’

My willpower was waning. If I died now, I would never be able to get even with Scion – not just for this, but for everything.

In the end, survival instinct overcame my pride. I reached for the cup, but my fingers had no strength. Warden tipped it to my lips. It stung to do it, but I drank. He nodded as I took a little more.

‘Good.’

I mustered a look of contempt. Once I had I drunk the medicine to the dregs, I slumped back against the cushions and slept.

By the time I came round, it was half past eleven. A fire burned in the hearth, but not my skin, and the swelling in my leg had gone down. When I realised I could move it, I let out all my breath.

A clean undershirt was folded beside me. With the sheets over my legs, I eased it on, tensing as it brushed the back of my shoulder.

When Warden stepped back into the room, I looked hard at him.

‘I treated your wounds. I’m sure you don’t like being in my debt,’ I said, hoarse. ‘If you want to repay me, tell me what happened to you.’

His face might as well have been a mask.

‘Hypnagogic hallucinations can appear for several days after an episode of phantasmagoria,’ he said. ‘They are easily confused with reality. I would advise you not to pay them any heed.’

I smiled.

‘Okay,’ I said softly. ‘If that’s how you want to play it, Reph.’

His sleeve might be hiding the evidence, but it was there. I had something for my arsenal now. A secret I could turn against him.

All I had to do was find out why this was something he needed to hide.

‘You are in no fit state to leave the residence tonight, but you may go to the Porters’ Lodge,’ Warden said, his tone clipped. ‘The night porter will provide you with medical attention.’

‘I don’t see my clothes.’

‘Your new uniform was delivered this morning.’ He went to the linen cabinet and withdrew a tunic. ‘You have been promoted. Congratulations, Paige.’

That was the first time he ever said my name.