Page 54 of In Death’s Hands (The Threads of Fate #1)
It’s my turn to frown. This is beyond crazy.
“Well, okay then. I was looking for my way back to her room,” I say, unable to hide my contempt, “when I saw that woman and then heard someone in pain. What’s wrong with them?
” I try to look at the person, who doesn’t even seem to be aware of our presence, but Gilfred’s grip on me is so tight I can’t even turn to check on them.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he answers firmly, and I’m pretty sure my expression calls out his bullshit because he sighs heavily, his disgustingly warm breath brushing against my cheeks, and adds, “It’s a tragic story that does not concern you.
We are doing the best we can, and Durcia, the woman you so inelegantly followed, is here for their care.
Now let’s go, you have some explaining to do. ”
He moves towards the door, but I resist. I huff and puff as I pull and could swear my arm will be ripped from my body before Gilfred will let go of it.
He laughs proudly at my vain efforts, and I see red.
Not just the anger bursting behind my lids but the thread at the person’s foot.
It crawls back and forth on the floor in front of them and I gasp in shock.
What is it doing? I see the thread try to inch forward like a worm on the dirt but stop before it can touch the person rocking back and forth, their moaning an uninterrupted, haunting melody echoing in the room.
It’s like the thread wants to reach them but can’t.
I’m being dragged away, and in a last-ditch effort to get free, I throw my whole body weight backwards.
I only manage to slam my lower back against the table, pain radiating through my spine as the clay pitcher falls to the ground and shatters loudly.
The room is suddenly quiet, and it takes me a second to realise that the whimpers have stopped.
I meet Gilfred’s furious gaze before looking towards the person on the floor, expecting to see only a rocking mass of flesh and bones, but eyes with striking white pupils find me instead.
The person—I still can’t tell if they’re a man or a woman—is looking straight at me.
Their round eyes stare at me without really seeming to see me.
I feel both seen and invisible as they slowly start rocking again.
I’m being pulled away by a grumbling Gilfred when white eyes fall on red thread.
My heart stops when they freeze. They can see the thread!
No one else seems to have seen them so far.
They look back at me and a spark goes off behind the white.
Shivers erupt all over my body and I think they’re about to move their arm, but I’m pulled out of the room before I can see more.
“The disrespect!” I don’t catch anything else of Gilfred’s rant because I’m too focused on what I saw. I don’t know what happened to that person in there, but they could see the same thread I’ve been seeing lately. It cannot be a coincidence. I need to get back in there and talk to them. I need—
“Let me go, you brute!” I yell, the frustration clawing at my throat.
But he keeps walking as if unencumbered despite pulling me behind him.
My arm is already hurting and I’m sure I’ll have bruises the shape of his fingers for days.
Enough is enough. I fake a stumble, forcing him to turn my way slightly, and kick his shin hard .
His curse echoes in the dark corridor, but he only loosens his hold a fraction.
I kick again, aiming at the exact same spot, and I see his other hand barrel towards my face.
I duck, kick again and run as if my life depends on it, because I’m pretty sure it does.
He bellows, and I hear footsteps behind me, forcing me to push farther, faster.
I rush through the various turns, and despite my fears, I instinctively remember the path to safety.
My bare feet keep hitting the ground, my lungs on fire, until I finally reach the last turn that will take me to the room. I need to find Nathan, I need to tell— Hmph!
“Whoa there, sunshine. You okay?”
I barrelled straight into Atys’ chest, and he gently steadies me. I look behind me, but Gilfred isn’t there. I swear I still hear footsteps echoing in my head, but maybe I lost him? Although, it won’t take long for him to find me again; I made no secret of where I was heading.
“Liv?” I close my eyes at the relief coursing through my veins when I hear Nathan’s voice. “What happened?”
I rush to him, Turan at his side. “They’re keeping someone prisoner!”
“What?” He frowns as he looks at me frantically, searching for any sign of hurt, I’m sure.
I feel Atys join us but stay focused on Nathan. “We have to help them!” I grab his hand to drag him back, a sense of urgency clawing at me.
“Liv, wait.” Nathan wraps his arm around my shoulders and gently leads me back inside the room despite my protests.
I keep looking back, but no one is coming for me, and then Atys closes the door and all I see is their concerned faces, which I want to smack. What don’t they get? “They are keeping someone trapped. We have to get them out!”
“Who did you see?” Nathan asks.
“I don’t know!” I start pacing, needing to move to get this buzzing thing beneath my skin under control.
“I followed a thread, the same one I saw in the cave, to this room and saw someone on the floor, like, like a discarded piece of trash, and then Gilfred caught me and was all, ‘You don’t belong here, you’re a rat, I hate you, blah blah blah. ’”
Nathan and Atys exchange a frown but seem more confused than alarmed.
“What thread?” asks Turan, her narrowed eyes jumping from me to Nathan to Atys and back again, and I realise I’d forgotten that they didn’t tell her about everything that happened in the cave. They didn’t tell her I was the cause of their vision.
“What did Gilfred say?” Atys asks me, clearly avoiding Turan’s increasingly suspicious gaze.
“He lied!”
“Liv,” Nathan says with his stupidly soothing voice. “What did he say exactly?”
“Something about helping them,” I scoff. “Like I’ll believe that .”
Turan looks at me deeply. “Liv, you’ve been through a lot recently, and I know you don’t particularly like this place or Cel—and I don’t fault you for that,” she adds quickly with her palms up when I throw her an incredulous look, “but Cel has been nothing but a blessing to us, and if Gilfred said they’re helping that person, then I’m sure that’s what it is, no matter how bad it looked. ”
I stop pacing and face her fully. My gaze hardens at the gaslighting. “I know what I saw. I am not crazy or struck stupid by having been through a lot ,” I seethe. When I turn to Nathan, I’m relieved to see a thoughtful expression on his face. Maybe he believes me?
Hope has a bitter taste when it fades away. “Look, even if what you believe is true, there is nothing we can do about it right now. We can’t just go meddling in Cel’s affairs.”
Fire burns up my throat as I ready myself, but Nathan cuts me off before the attack. “We have everything we need for you to commune with the Order. Let’s get you ready as quickly as possible, and then we’ll check it out. Diplomatically.”
I choke when he of all people advocates for diplomacy, but I see how earnest he is.
He does trust me but needs time to sort this out.
Fine, I can give him that. At least a little bit of time, but there is no way I’m leaving this place without the person who’s been left in a corner to shiver and hurt all alone.
I deflate slightly, worry a heavy cloud in my mind. I feel like I’m running against an invisible, deadly clock.
“This is so not what I had in mind,” I mutter, trying to contain the shivers.
It didn’t take long for them to prepare everything, and the urgency I felt hasn’t gone away.
It even seemed to transfer to both Atys and Nathan as they rushed through the preparations.
Thalnus never came back from his own errands, but neither man looks concerned, so I assume he had better things to do.
Turan ran out for more salt at the last minute, despite Nathan’s assurances that we had enough.
She came back flushed and out of breath, which is entirely out of character for her.
I’m concerned about her; she seems uncomfortable and truly worried about what we’re doing.
I tried to reassure her, but to be honest, I’m not even sure what’s about to happen, so I didn’t blame her when my words didn’t relax her.
Ice hitting my naked skin jerks me from my thoughts, and I glare at Nathan, who has the decency to wince.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. You could be in bed and warm by now.”
I scoff, pushing away the images those words from his mouth create in my mind. The spark in his eyes tell me he’s all too aware of that fact, and I thank whoever is listening that my skin is already so red from the icy water that a blush goes unnoticed.
Turns out the salt wasn’t for the witchy circle I had in mind but for a bath.
A very cold one. I stopped looking at what they were adding to it after they dumped a decent amount of dirt in as well.
Mostly, I’m focused on my toes, ignoring how awkward it is in the cramped bathroom, wearing nothing but my knickers and a shirt that clings uncomfortably to my skin.
When I first came into the room, I gasped at the beauty of it.
The back wall is, like the main living space, entirely made of glass overlooking the forest, with a claw-foot tub placed artfully in front of it.
It’s eerie to feel like I’m bathing outside.
Eerier to be bathing with three fully clothed people in the room. I feel entirely too exposed.
“Liv,” Nathan says quietly, but I’m very happy looking at the flaky pink nail polish on my big toe. I’m going through all the colours of polish I have at home, wishing I could get access to them, or even some remover.