“No, I can't say guilt is something I've experienced,” Evan mused, seemingly to himself.
“Well, you're not missing much,” she responded, shoving herself away from the table. She considered turning the bathroom light off, but didn't like the thought of not being able to see Evan, so she staggered to the bed, instead, and collapsed on the mattress, pulling the blankets up around her. Kellin sucked in a huge breath at the disturbance and blew it out through his nose in a faux-sneeze. Integrity yawned theatrically. “Man, I'm tired!” she said, not knowing how to politely dismiss her intruder.
She was thankful when he stood and left the room without further conversation. She leaned up, punched her pillow a few times, then slammed her head back down. Well, I did what I was supposed to. I was the bigger person, she half prayed. Hope it's enough.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jydda leaned back in the elaborate chair and closed her eyes, humming a disconnected tune to herself, as she allowed the female servant to apply eyeshadow. Without warning, she opened her eyes, causing the deep green color to skip across her brow bone. “Idiot!” she spat out, slapping the servant's hands away. The woman moved to correct her mistake and Jydda locked a vicious gaze on her. “Get away from me,” she said, low and in control. The woman stepped back. Jydda sighed impatiently, holding out her hand. When the servant didn't react instantly, she wiggled her fingers impatiently. Figuring out what was needed, the servant placed the brush in Jydda's hand, holding only the very end to keep from drawing any nearer her master than necessary. She knew what happened when someone upset Lady Jydda, and she didn't want to be within range of the woman's grasp. Jydda had to stretch her arm out further to reach the brush. “Get out of my face!” she barked, turning to the lit mirror in front of her. “Completely incompetent,” she muttered to herself as the woman moved silently from the room, counting herself lucky to get away with such a small punishment. At least for now.
Jydda leaned toward the mirror, rubbing at the mistake with her ring finger until the green disappeared. With the ease of decades of practice, she lowered one eyelid and began applying color once more. She stopped to view her work, turning her head from one side to the other, before continuing, her thoughts drifting.
She was glad that the girl had left Westmarch once more, although Evan was undoubtedly with her. That realization made her frown. She smoothed the expression from her face, running the tips of the fingers across her mouth and one cheek.
With the impostor gone from the castle, there had been no more balls. That was a definite draw back, but not nearly as irritating as having a ball dedicated to the little faker. “What is there to celebrate in such an average little brat?” she asked herself, assured of her solitude. “Nothing.” Finished with her right eye, she moved onto her left.
Tapping the excess powder off of the brush, she muttered, “Although, Evan going to 'protect' her is equally as ludicrous.” She closed her eyelid and began meditatively swiping the brush back and forth. It was going to be even more difficult to bring her plan to fruition if Evan was absent from Westmarch. She knew her charms were considerably less effective across a distance, and the man had been away far too much lately.
She leaned back and studied her reflection, brushing the tip of her middle finger across her eyelids to blur the line where the color ended, then moved on to repair the damage the woman had done with the blush, shaking her head in disgust.
“At least I compare in a positive light to her,” she gloated as she continued to work. “Even though he's gone, she's only furthering my case.” A tight smile compressed her lips.
Setting the brush down, she ran her fingers into her hair and fluffed it, letting it fall naturally into place. She gave herself one last critical look, then smiled, satisfied. “It won't be difficult at all to feed tonight,” she told her reflection. “The hardest part will be choosing among the many men that will follow me into that dark ally.” With the speed of light, her face changed, the natural color fleeing, the pupils expanding to cover the whites of her eyes, her eye teeth elongating. She laughed, thrilled as always at the effect the makeup had on her true face, looking as though a child had decided to use primary colors to decorate a corpse. The men always paled right along with her when she changed. She allowed the cold blood to refill the emptiness, her mask to fall seamlessly back into place. It would be a good night. She could feel it in her bones.
Є
Integrity didn't notice that the disassembled bed was missing until she sat down in her armchair and automatically raised a hand to protect her head in case one of the pieces rocked forward (she'd learned the hard way that they had a tendency to do that). When nothing met her hand, she hesitated, wondering if she really had glanced a big, empty space before she had sat down. She turned slowly to look behind her, her stomach falling as she realized she was right. The bed was gone.
Her vision swam. What had happened to the bed? She frantically rose to her feet and checked her room for the missing items, knowing the whole time she wouldn't find them. They weren't in the bathroom, lurking in another corner, knocked over, or even under her mattress. She wanted to swallow, but her mouth was far too dry. She dropped back into the armchair, defeated.
Evan had been explicit that she protect the bed, and she had. Yeah, protected it right into oblivion, she thought sourly. How the heck am I going to explain this to him? “Oh, by the way, your bed, the one you're so obsessed with? Yeah, I lost it. Don't know why. Don't know when. Don't know how to keep you from hitting me.”
Was it better to get it over with, fess up immediately that she was apparently incapable of babysitting inanimate objects, or play dumb? Neither option appeared rosy; either way, she was sure to pay for the loss. Quit it, don't think about that. We don't need details right now. Focus!
Okay, be logical, she told herself, taking a deep breath. The bed didn't get up and walk out of here by itself. Someone had to move it. You didn't. There's one suspect down. She smiled wryly. Way to go, Nancy Drew. You deserve the Nobel Prize.
When was the last time you saw it? She puzzled it out until her forehead was wrinkled in concentration, but she couldn't pin down a time for sure—she was so used to it being there, she just took its presence for granted. In fact, if she didn't turn and look, she could picture it there perfectly, even now. That's not helping.
She reordered her thoughts and tried to puzzle out when the bed may have disappeared. She hadn't left her room much the past few days, and she was reasonably sure it had been here even two days ago. That meant someone had to have taken it from right under her nose. “I would've seen them take it if I was awake. They had to take it when I was asleep,” she muttered to herself. An unpleasant chill crawled slowly up her spine. It was bad enough that Evan watched her while she slept, despite her protests; she didn't need someone coming in and moving furniture without her waking up. Just how deep of a sleeper are you?
Desperate for some direction, she stood and studied the carpet, as though she expected telltale footprints to linger there, preferably labeled with the wearer's name. Idiot. Did you really think that would work? Frustrated, Integrity turned and leaned back against the vanity that lurked along one wall discreetly.
When she set the heels of her hands down on the polished wood, she felt something foreign brush against her left one. Turning to look, she saw a fresh bunch of flowers laying there. The end was cut jaggedly, as though someone had used a dull pocket knife to murder the poor things. Dark in the center of each of the five petals, the color faded to a lighter shade of reddish-purple as it moved outward, as though someone had painted each petal with watercolors. There were dozens of flowers on the single stem. Integrity touched one of the flowers lightly with one fingertip, then flinched when a sharp rap sounded on the open door behind her. She spun, heart clogging her airway, sure that Evan would be standing there. She let out her pent up breath when she recognized Galia. “Oh, hi,” she said, weakly.
“It is nice to see you, too,” Galia said,
a laugh in her voice. “What are you looking at so intently that the world has disappeared?” Galia moved smoothly across the room, then caught a glimpse of the flowers. An impish grin sprang to her face. “Ah, how lovely. An admirer, perhaps?”
Integrity groaned. “I was hoping you'd say you brought them.”
Galia laughed, picking the flower up delicately. Showing Integrity the stem, she said, “You really believe I would cut a flower like this?” She raised one eyebrow.
Integrity buried her head in her hands. “No,” she said, her voice muffled, “I knew it wasn't from you. I was just hoping you were having a really off day.”
“Even on an 'off day,' I'd remember to bring a vase.” She said vase so it rhymed with boss. “I'll go fetch one now. One must never shun a present from an admirer, no matter how shy he may be.”
Integrity dropped her hands and looked up. “No, we've got bigger issues.” She glanced toward the door that still stood open, and lowered her voice. Jerking her head toward the armchair, she said, “Notice anything missing?”
Galia's playful expression fled, replaced by one of utter seriousness. “Integrity, what have you done?” she breathed, moving toward the chair a step or two before stopping. “A showing of rebellion would be better spent on a different object.”
“Hey, I didn't do this!” she protested, then quickly reigned in her voice once more. Almost hissing, she said, “I just noticed it's gone. I have no idea where it is.”
Galia glanced down at the flowers she still cradled, then turned a piercing gaze back on Integrity. “Are you telling me someone else removed it?”
Integrity nodded mutely, a bad taste in her mouth.
“Do you know when?”
Integrity shook her head, the bitter, metallic taste growing more pronounced.
Galia frowned, looked back down at the flowers, turned them over. “Did the same person leave these?”
“I have no idea.” Integrity sounded tired now, as though she had given up the battle and was merely waiting for the slaughter. She sank down onto her bed, pulling her raised knees to her chest and resting her chin on them.
Abruptly, Galia changed attitudes. Lightly, she said, “Oh, it was most likely Paul. I wouldn't worry about it too much.” Integrity half expected her to brush her hands together, as though clearing herself of the issue. “I'll dash off for a vase for the hyacinths; no point in letting them die.”
“Is that what they are?” Integrity asked.
Galia hesitated at the door, turning back with a smile on her face. “Yes, didn't you know?”
Integrity shook her head. “I can recognize a rose and a dandelion. That's about it.”
Galia looked at the flowers once more, her smile shifting away from chipper. “Hyacinths always make me a little sad,” she mused.
“Why?” Integrity asked. Galia broke from her reverie, obviously a little chagrined at having spoken at all. She didn't quite meet Integrity's gaze.
Galia shrugged, as though it didn't matter. “You know, the story of Hyacinth and Apollo.”
“I don't know it,” Integrity said, prodding the maid forward.
Still not meeting Integrity's gaze, Galia said, “Apollo and Zephyr, the West Wind, both loved Hyacinth. Hyacinth preferred Apollo over the West Wind. Zephyr grew jealous and caused a discus thrown by Apollo to strike and kill Hyacinth.” Galia shrugged again, raising her head once more. Her voice grew lighter. “Of course, war ensued. Legend says rather than allow Hades to claim Hyacinth, Apollo used her blood to create the hyacinth flower.”
“Well, that's nice and depressing,” Integrity returned, trying to lighten the mood. Galia gave her a token smile before moving off down the hallway, still carrying the hyacinths.
Є
Paul stuck his head through Integrity's open door, knocking on the door frame. When she glanced up from her book, she saw a huge grin on his face. “Why're you so happy?” she asked, closing her book and setting it aside.
“Come and see. I've got a surprise for you.” Paul turned right and headed down the hallway. Integrity hurried to catch up to him.
They stopped outside the closed door to the gym, Paul's hand on the doorknob. “Are you ready?” he asked, more excited that she was.
“Yeah, yeah, open the door already.”
“Nope.” Paul shook his head, still smiling. “Close your eyes.”
“Are you kidding me?” Integrity sighed in mock impatience, then closed her eyes when Paul continued to wait. She didn't hear the door open, but she trusted Paul not to crash her into anything. At least, not hard enough to cripple me. She allowed him to lead her into the room.
“Are your eyes still closed?” Paul asked, turning her to face whatever the surprise was.
“Yes, but they're not going to stay shut for much longer,” she warned, curious now. Had the dork gotten her a mini-trampoline? Or a new treadmill?
“Okay, open your eyes,” Paul said, stepping back from her.
Be excited, even if it's something stupid, she told herself as she slowly opened her eyes. Thankfully, she didn't have to fake her excitement. Clapping her hands and jumping up and down, she hugged Paul violently, then hopped over to the green table. She grabbed a blue paddle and looked around for the ball. “I love ping-pong!” she shouted. “Where's the ball? We've so gotta play!”
Paul pulled the small, white ball out of his pocket and picked up a green paddle. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
Paul served, and Integrity hit the ball back, a little too enthusiastically. “What's next, skee-ball?”
Paul didn't even try to hit the ball, but let it fly past him. His face fell. “I'm not sure where we'd put it, but I can get you a skee-ball machine if you want me to.”
Integrity laughed giddily. “Oh, Paul! Freak! I was kidding. This is great!” Reassured, Paul smiled and jogged to fetch the ball where it had rolled underneath the weight bench. Integrity called after him, “Besides, you got me flowers. What more can a girl ask for?”
Paul raised one eyebrow at her as he walked back to the table, but didn't say anything. When he didn't respond, she told herself to focus on the game and chalk it up to shyness on his part. After all, it's not like Paul is trying to hit on me. We're just friends. And I can't even begin to compete with Galia... She smiled as she served, careful to not hit the ball as hard this time. It smacked squarely into the net.
Є
Integrity spent every moment she could playing ping pong with Paul. It was a welcome distraction from the regular monotony she faced, and she enjoyed the friendly back-and-forth they shared. One day, as she swung wildly at a shot and caused the ball to fling away, Paul laughed and asked, “Are you any better at skee-ball than you are at ping pong, or are you this hopeless at everything?”
“Hey, now,” she protested as she retrieved the ball. She threw it at him in mock anger, and he ducked. “I'll have you know that I've spent my fair share of time at the arcade.”
Paul laughed again, serving the ball to her gently. “It hasn't paid off at all, though, has it?”
Integrity stuck her tongue out at him and focused on the game once more. She missed a shot horribly when she noticed someone come in the room. “Stupid peripheral vision,” she muttered as she turned to see who had entered. Her stomach clenched and her mouth was suddenly dry as she saw Evan move across the room to the weight bench. She snapped her gaze away as soon as he nodded at her—she'd been caught staring. Focus. Don't let him bother you, she told herself, even as her ears strained to hear what he was doing. She turned back to the game and served to Paul, even though it wasn't her turn.
Rather than returning her serve, Paul caught the ball. “I guess machines can't object to cheating?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “If I were getting quarters for every mistake you made, I probably wouldn't complain either.”
Integrity envied Paul's ability to ignore Evan's presence. Granted, Paul was speaking lower now, but he hadn't frozen or shut up like she instinctively wanted to do. “They
weren't quarters, they were nickels.” She held her paddle ready for his serve, determined not to miss, though she knew Evan couldn't possibly be watching her since she could see the weight bar raising and lowering steadily out of the corner of her eye. Still, it would be just your luck to peg the guy in the head. An image of Evan dropping the weights in surprise caused her to crack a smile.
“Nickels? Just how old are you?” Paul asked, easily keeping pace with the game even as he carried on their conversation.
“No, the machines were meant for quarters, but they changed them so they'd take nickels.”
“Who's 'they?' Your little gang of thieves?”
Integrity missed the ball again. She crawled under the table to retrieve it. “No, the owners did it. There are special arcades where everything only costs a nickel.”
“Ah, I see,” Paul said sagely. “An arcade for those who are...shall we say, monetarily challenged?” With ease and precision, Paul shot the ball off the left corner, barely clearing the white line. She hadn't stood a chance. “Or was it meant for people just lacking in hand-eye coordination?”
She chucked the ball at him again, this time aiming for his head. “If you want to waste your money, go ahead, but I prefer to spend all day playing for twenty bucks, thank you very much.”
“I could do that at a standard arcade,” Paul jabbed, grinning at her.
“Ha, ha, ha,” she responded sarcastically. “Just let me serve, will ya?”
Paul bowed his head in acquiescence. He began batting the ball back to her carefully, placing it where she'd be most likely to be able to hit it. “Didn't you get sick of all the little kids running around all the time, wiping their boogers on the buttons?” he asked after a moment, when Integrity had gotten the rhythm down once more.
“Ew, thanks a lot; I never thought about that before.” She hit the ball a few times, then said, “It wasn't just kids. There were lots of college students and even some adults.” She smiled. “I loved that place. Not only were all the workers nice, but they were so accommodating to everyone.”
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 13