Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Twenty Five: Conspiracy

At the thought of Grace, Nova fidgeted. She didn't know what had possessed her the previous day, to stand in front of her like that when Jordan's temper got the better of him. She had regretted it instantly; the Unspoken had already stepped in, and what use was she anyway? She had seen the peculiar look Jordan had given her and dreaded to think what kind of impression he might have taken from it.

Grace, in her usual manner, hadn't seemed to think anything of it. Nova hadn't seen her face to face since the incident; soon afterwards Faellian had summoned her so he could keep a closer watch on what she was doing. But when Grace had passed her once or twice, in the corridors or when she came to deliver something, she made sure to catch Nova's eye, no matter how much Nova tried to avoid it.

It felt too close to an exploitable weakness for Nova to be comfortable, and yet she didn't mind as much as she knew she ought to.

Silas approached the table. Two guards flanked him to hold his chains, but both of them were keeping back as far they were able, eyes averted as Faellian lifted the sheet again. Eril had made a concerted effort to gather himself in front of one of his house's acolytes, but at this he succumbed and disappeared back into the bucket.

Silas went stiff, jaw clenching until a tick showed. Nova kept her eyes on him so she didn't have to look herself, but she knew what he saw. His aura was pure horror. The news clearly hadn't reached his little prison.

"That's a...a..." he sputtered.

"Unspoken." Faellian feigned disinterest. "A dead one, to be precise." His gaze sharpened, and Silas flinched. "What do you know?"

Silas looked startled. "What?"

"Don't be obtuse," the lord pressed. "What do you know about this death?"

"Nothing," Silas replied. "I didn't even know it had happened."

Nova couldn't detect a lie on his aura, no pulse of guilt or worry. Faellian glanced at her, and she remained still and silent.

"Are the Devils responsible?" Faellian said.

"I don't know."

"But you are in contact with them, aren't you?"

"No."

"Lie," Nova murmured, only loud enough for the lord to catch it. She couldn't help holding a grudge against the boy for dragging her into this. And Grace, said a small voice in the back of her head, followed by the image of Grace crying as her brother signed his life away. She crushed it into silence.

"You're lying," Faellian said softly, "You are, aren't you?"

Silas set his jaw, shooting Nova a venomous look over the lord's shoulder. Faellian must have caught it, because he laughed.

"Oh, we're seeing another side of the pious little acolyte here, aren't we?" he said, sounding darkly delighted, "Lying, making threats, foul manners. Anyone would have thought you'd been raised in a barn."

Silas swallowed, and fear flashed across his aura. Faellian didn't notice the subtlety of the change, but Nova smirked. Few got involved with the Devils if there wasn't a hefty debt to be paid, a favour to be called in, especially not acolytes of a noble house.

"We'll be having words about that little lie later," Faellian said, "In the comfort of my study. Take him up there."

The guards bowed and led Silas away, the boy stumbling between them.

"Faellian, I have to object," Eril began, but Faellian cut him off.

"There is nothing to object to. The boy knows nothing about this incident as far as we're aware, but he is lying about involvement with the Devils. Either way, he has committed a punishable offence."