Rise [Bruno Mars]

Chapter sixty

Chapter sixty

"However," Dr. Ali continued, "I asked around. A fellow nurse told me she watched sir Joseph take it just last week, before he left home."

Panic spread wide throughout my chest, coating my lungs like cigar smoke so I felt short of breath. Suddenly dizzy, while having Anelah tight in the crook of my arm, I sank into my work chair. Dr. Ali came up to me but didn't touch. She was saying something but I didn't hear. Underneath my horror, dread burrowed itself like a knife into my stomach.

Joseph was on to me. What else could explain my prohibition from the second wing? Joseph taking Bruno's necklace? He knew about the uniqueness of our pendants. He'd read the book. It was in his nightstand.

I jolted when Anelah began to fluster. Automatically, I offered my knuckle for her to suck.

Dr. Ali's question came gentle yet firm, a doctor's tonality, "Are you okay, miss Adrian?"

Disapproving of the knuckle, Anelah twisted her head away. I set my elbow on the worktable, throwing the rejected hand over my eyes. "Yes, yes. Just let me think."

But what had I been thinking? I could never emulate Joseph's strength of mind. I never shielded myself as well as I intended. I was a parody, a travesty—

I paused in distress, extricating my hair from Anelah's grabbing fists. My eyebrows lowered.

As I reminded myself several times, Joseph was no fool. He would never take the necklace into a dangerous territory such as Unbestia. He would never risk such a thing if he knew how special it was.

I straightened in my chair.

I hadn't the slightest clue if Joseph was ignorant to my intentions or not. But I did know how he always kept the things most dearest to him in sanctuary. His books, his cat.

Me.

Joseph's office was locked and guarded, therefore off limits. On the other hand, his chamber, although too guarded, was allowed my presence. Inside was somber. I drew back the window curtains, pushing the darkness into hard-to-reach areas. Then I paused. Outside were the fields, where Unhomboldt lived in tents, and on the windowsill, topping a pretty nest of chamomile, dandelion petals, mint, and sage, was the bible, its leather cover worn, well-loved.

I withdrew from it.

Joseph chose our daughter's name. He said it had Hebrew origins, and meant messenger of God, an angel.

"Nothing Latin? I am going to be shocked into labor."

He'd laughed, resting his hand over the base of my swollen belly. He only touched it in private, kissed, murmured to it, sometimes. "Our child is a blessing. Latin is my burden."

I knew who had Bruno's necklace.

The caretakers welcomed me with tired, customary signs of respect. A high-ceilinged, comfy area, the nursery lay snuggled just some feet from the infirmary. Since the moon hung high over the mountains, the children were long into their slumbers. A beautiful cot held Anelah. The wooden framework was painted ornately in a shimmering silver, jeweled in glittering onyx and black pearl, while the other cots were dull white and with not a single embellishment. I went up to her tiny form and kissed her, then felt around her nightwear, a soft, green cloth that covered her hands and feet. When I felt nothing but gentle skin, I took the clothing off her, leaving her in only underwrappings. She didn't stir.