Ember by Anna Holmes

Author:Anna Holmes [Holmes, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction & Literature
ISBN: 9780692902561
Published: 2017-06-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Alain

It was the responsible thing to say, but I hate it. I just want the warmth of her hand back in mine.

Thankfully, we have a conversation to overhear, and that takes a little of my focus, at least. The rest is consumed with making sure I don't accidentally step on her or bump her off the edge of one of these platforms. Walking with another invisible person is not easy. I could do it, but I want her to hear, too. I want her to believe what I hear.

Eventually, I reach out to her both with my hand and with my mind. Give me your other hand for a moment.

There's a rush of air as she misses, but eventually she catches my hand with her left. Before I lose track of her left arm, I take it and place it in the crook of mine. So I can tell where you are. I feel as though I'm going to push you off.

There's another squeeze of acknowledgement, and I feel her shoulder brush my arm. It had been the right answer to give her, I remind myself. She did me that favor last night.

But it feels wrong with her so close.

Shut up, I tell myself.

I feel her tense next to me. Did you hear that?

Another squeeze. That was meant for me. I suppose I'm losing track of who's who.

Her other hand pats my arm, and she pulls me forward. We manage to make it up the ramp to Rye's quarters with only some minor tipping and rebalancing. I hear her catch her breath next to me. All right?

Another squeeze.

Now the problem of the door. I can make us appear to be nothing, but we can't actually pass through objects. It's shut, so I can't make it appear to float open, as I used to when I wanted to scare my sister in the unkinder days of my childhood. None of the windows are open. I listen.

The room is quiet. I hear the floor creak every so often, but not in our direction. Rye may be pacing.

Gavroth starts up the ramp. I ease to the edge and hold Caelin against me, making us as flat as I can. Fortunately, he hugs the side of the building. I feel Caelin pull me forward, and I take her meaning. We slip into the room right behind Gavroth. I lunge out of the way as he reaches toward my stomach—or, as he thinks, for the doorknob. "Sit down," Rye says.

Caelin and I stay near the door. I can feel her tension, the crook of her elbow clamping around my arm. "Uncle, I…" begins Gavroth, fidgeting with his hands.

I almost feel badly for him. I remember squirming like this. Rye even reminds me a little of my mother, the disappointment emanating from him. The ache in my leg makes me slightly less sympathetic. "Sit," he says again.

Gavroth takes the chair in front of the uselessly ornate desk. Of all things to save. The gold trim alone might have fed this camp for a year.

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