Page 8 of The Unseen Hour (The Unseen Hour Duology #1)

I bit back a yawn. Merely having a clear goal didn’t mean I relished a night without sleep.

If I can figure out Father’s part in all this, it will be worth it.

I’d spent months reviewing the same writings over and over, but I wanted those missing pages.

They hadn’t been anywhere at Scops that I could find, and our property in Karith was my next guess.

The capital was where Father conducted a lot of business, and it made every bit of sense in the world to me that the pages might be in his office.

Particularly since his research was being done at the behest of the queen.

I’d briefly considered approaching the monarch at the ball, but there was no simple way to explain how I knew my father had been looking into the hour at her request. And no good way to ensure the conversation was private.

In the end, I’d decided to find the pages before doing anything else.

This was our first time back to our Karith property since I’d discovered the diary, and while we’d been here for days, I’d had someone watching me near constantly. Now, when everyone was tired from the preparations for the ball and the event itself, was the best time to look.

The house was dark and quiet as I made my way down the imperial staircase. As I came upon the landing where the two sides converged, I was careful to step over the portion of wood I knew would emit a squeak liable to wake someone.

I was driven by determination and desperation in equal measure.

I placed a fist over my heart, then brought it up to my lips and kissed it.

A plea to both gods, Day and Death, to help me.

Whether the theory of Death being responsible for the hour was true or not, no one dared defy a god.

Most people had only grown more pious in the years following the hour’s appearance, in the hopes one god or the other might show mercy to us all.

It had yet to work, but at least the services held in the gods’ honor were full of song, in addition to endless recitations of prayer.

The music was something I had always enjoyed.

All respectable families attended services.

Fox Haven had a gorgeous church with stained-glass windows depicting the gods themselves and various scenes within Emrys.

There was another church, though, of which I was even fonder.

No more than a stone ruin, now, surrounded by a crumbling cemetery, it sat on a brush-covered portion of the Hipnosi property.

We’d purchased the land generations ago from the Holmeses, and that connection had only strengthened my love of the crumbling old structure in recent months.

A small area where I could escape with Pellix, away from our fields where workers harvesting crops might spot me.

Our gardener had told me once that the ruin may well have been dedicated to one of the other gods—a blasphemous statement in Emrys, which was probably why he refused to say more when I pestered him on the subject .

Other countries had their own ideas as to which gods existed, and how many, but Emrys was a country of Day and Death.

The two gods brought balance, and to shun one would surely bring even worse devastation down on us all.

So we continued to worship the deities until the day one of them might take pity on their worshippers.

I tried not to be completely sacrilegious about it, but I believed strongly that we’d do better taking action for ourselves rather than awaiting intervention by deities of whose existence I had certainly never seen any true sign.

Not that such thoughts kept me from offering my prayers and songs when the occasion arose.

Perhaps the gods appreciated my acknowledgment, because I made it to the bottom of the staircase without incident.

My candle illuminated only a small circle of the blue carpet that lined the stairs beneath my slippered feet.

Blue. The color was a tribute to my mother, and Father had insisted blue accents be added to his properties after their marriage.

I found it a welcome break from all the pink that filled our wardrobes.

I reached the study doors.

Now, here was the real trick. Mother ensured the housekeeper stayed on top of all household maintenance, with this room being the one exception.

She hadn’t been able to bear entering it after Father disappeared, and so it had remained shut and untouched, aside from Ambrose going in to clear out any paperwork necessary for running the estate.

Even then, Ambrose had gone to the trouble of renovating one of the other rooms on the ground floor to serve as his own office, rather than disturbing Father’s legacy.

If the hinges creaked, I might bring someone running.

I had several excuses at the ready—needing a glass of milk, sleepwalking, simply missing my father.

But if I was seen trying to get into the office, it might put Ambrose and Mother on alert against a second attempt.

It would be far better if I got this done in one try.

I held my breath, then tugged on the door.

My luck held out, and the left door to the office swung open silently. Scurrying inside, I hastily shut it behind me.

“It’s like having you home again,” I whispered to the room.

The scent of dust and books hung heavy in the air, but beneath that I could smell oranges and bourbon, a favorite drink of my father’s.

I was on the taller side of average, but my height was nothing compared to my father’s.

I had to pull the chair back from my father’s desk and climb onto it to reach the candelabra hanging over his desk.

I’d thought ahead enough to bring along a few handkerchiefs, stuffed into a pocket. It wouldn’t do to leave prints on everything. I pulled one out and used it to swat cobwebs off the candelabra before lighting it with the tip of my candle.

Soft, warm light spread over the desk.

I searched the items on the top first, but they yielded nothing. An atlas, a pair of reading spectacles, an empty candle holder, and a few loose pieces of parchment next to an open bottle of ink with a quill still sitting in it.

The desk had three drawers on each side. I started on the left, not wholly surprised to find the first two were empty. When Ambrose went through, he’d probably taken anything he thought was important, and it only made sense those items would be in the higher drawers.

When I’d finished on the left, I started on the right and identified nothing of value in the first drawer there, either. Just a few pages of blank parchment and an unused quill. If I were stupendously lucky, there would be a document with the words Unseen Hour printed across it .

I hit upon just such an item in the second drawer.

My heart leapt into my throat momentarily, beating fast as I reached a shaking hand in the drawer to retrieve what I’d seen.

My hopes sank just as quickly as they’d risen when I realized it was just an old copy of a warning.

They plastered them throughout the country every December, reminding citizens to prepare themselves and to barricade themselves inside before midnight on the thirty-first of December. As if anyone needed reminding.

In the early years, people discovered the key to safety through trial and error, along with observation.

Once it was clear the hour was a continuing pattern, it didn’t take long to discern that it was only those outdoors who were in danger.

And it took only a little more discussion to realize that hiding places like barns with open doors or ruins like the church I enjoyed didn’t keep one safe.

Whether closed shutters and bolted doors were necessary along with simply staying shut up indoors, I couldn’t say.

But I supposed everyone had decided it was better to be overly cautious than a frigid corpse on January first.

I was tempted to crumple the warning up and burn it but couldn’t bring myself to destroy anything of my father’s, no matter how minuscule its importance.

Doubt began to creep in. I knew what I was doing was possibly a fool’s errand, but it was also the first time in years I’d felt a real sense of hope.

And I couldn’t deny that focusing on this instead of the season made me feel more adventurous than I ever had. Except perhaps when I was with Pellix.

I couldn’t give that up, and I wouldn’t give up on my father.

It was that thought that had me leaning down, wiping the dust from the drawer’s interior, when my handkerchief caught on something. I tugged, then cursed when the thing came back frayed. I detested needlework, and it would be my responsibility to mend it .

“Blasted fabric!” I scowled at the offending handkerchief.

Grabbing a candle off the desktop, and determined to find and remove the offending splinter from the wood lest I prick myself on it, I leaned back toward the open drawer.

Cut into the wood was a tiny notch, so small it would be missed if someone wasn’t looking specifically for it.

I reached down and placed a finger in the groove, then pulled.

The bottom of the drawer came away, revealing a hidden compartment beneath.

Inside were a couple of folded pieces of paper, tied up in a blue ribbon.

I reached in and retrieved them. I recognized the ribbon as one my mother had worn in her hair in the past. Careful not to drip wax on my discovery, I pulled the ribbon loose and unfolded the pages.

They were torn along one edge, and I greedily devoured the last words my father had for me.

The key is the Thipp’s.

That single sentence was scrawled across the top. Below it was a list.

– Retrieve Thipp’s

– Test on next hour (away from family – physician’s?)

– Results to Her Majesty

– Replicate

*Only at the brink of death can I greet Death

My heart was a hammer inside my chest as I read over the list several times. He had left us on purpose; at least, that’s what the writing indicated.

Thipp’s root was something I’d seen referenced in Holmes’s diary as well.

The brothers had been taking it prior to their own disappearance, to help with the insomnia brought on by whatever ailed them.

It struck me because Thipp’s was now known to be dangerous sedative.

It was still used, but only by medical professionals during surgery.

It was never given out as a mere sleep aid.

Which meant, if my father had gone looking for it …

was this what I needed if I wanted to follow him?

The first portion of the writing looked more like a plan, but the final section read like a diary entry, my father spilling his thoughts onto the pages.

I don’t need the money, or a reward, that awaits if I achieve this. I’ve sworn secrecy, but there can be no harm if I’m only telling myself.

Her Majesty is determined to retrieve her husband and to fight the hour. She thinks, as I have come to as well, that there is a way past this side to whatever waits beyond. If she wants to retrieve the king and send an army to fight gods, that is her business.

Monarchs think everything can be solved with the strength of an army. Even death.

I seek a solution to protect my family. Each year, this wretched hour takes even those who think they are prepared.

My children are almost all of marriageable age. What of Celia? How can I protect them when they aren’t under my roof?

Something must be done, and for them I will sacrifice anything.

The paper wrinkled in my hands, and I jumped, unclenching my fist. He’d disappeared for us . If he had succeeded, he was wherever or in whatever lay beyond the hour. If he had failed? It had been because he wanted to protect us.

The Unseen Hour and its lost souls were a terror for everyone, but to the most unlucky in Emrys and all of Rayus, it was personal.

My father had lost his only brother to the hour, delayed on his way home during a winter storm.

He’d never have risked the same happening to us, not if he thought he could prevent it.

The extent of the queen’s involvement was interesting, but I was most intrigued by the Thipp’s. That was the key. Holmes had mentioned it, and now Father had indicated that’s how he’d done it. I would do the same.

I just had to come up with a way to get my hands on the stuff, and then wait for the hour.

From out in the hall, a telltale squeak sounded. It had to be one of the housemaids, awake early and preparing the manor for the day. I tucked the paper into my pocket.

Taking care to remain quiet, I stood on tiptoe on Father’s office chair and blew out each candle, then slid all the drawers shut before peeking out the door. Seeing the coast was clear, I slid out and shut the door behind me. I made my way to the foyer and then sprinted across to the kitchens.

Tilly, one of the housemaids, was straightening a vase of flowers on an entrance table when I emerged back into the foyer.

“Good morning, Tilly.”

She jumped, jostling the vase and only just managing to grab it.

“Miss Celia! I didn’t realize anyone else was about.”

“I’m sorry if I frightened you. I wasn’t able to sleep much last night. I thought I’d get a bit of breakfast and then lie down again. Would you like to join me for some juice?”

Tilly beamed.

“Of course, Miss.”

I patted my pocket, reassuring myself the papers were still there before following her.