House of Silence (Poisoned Houses Book 3)

by Lyn Forester

  Bleakness fills his eyes. “I read a naughty book while my brother was kidnapped right in front of me. How is that not my fault?”

  “You were a child.”

  “Our parents didn’t see it that way. Neither did the Blue Guards. Part of my job as the second son was to protect the heir.” He tries to pull his hands free, and I hold them tighter, unwilling to break our link. At last, he lets his hands fall limply to his lap.

  When he stays silent, I prod, “How long did it take them to find him?”

  “Three weeks. Three weeks of going to school and pretending nothing was wrong. Three weeks of waiting and watching our parents slowly panic. Three weeks of listening to them plan how they would cover this up.” He lets out a shuddering breath. “You know that saying that identical twins can feel each other’s pain? Know when something is wrong?”

  Silent, I nod.

  “It’s not true. The entire time Felix was gone, I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. And when they finally found him, I’m not sure he knew that answer, either.”

  This & That

  Connor rises to his knees, then crawls over to sit by my side, his arm against mine. It brings us closer together while putting distance between us. Without direct eye contact, the conversation becomes less personal, like something that happened to someone else. And maybe that’s for the best. My heart already hurts enough, and the story isn’t over yet.

  For a long moment, Connor stares out the glass dome, his gaze fixed on the glass spire near the center of the level. It stabs into the sky, a beacon for passing aircraft. It’s the top of the Halls of Justice, the place where all law in Leton originates. The massive building’s base begins at Ground Zero and punches through every level of the city, a statement of equality in an unequal world.

  When he speaks again, his voice startles me. “They found him on Ground Zero, in one of the condemned buildings overrun by the homeless.”

  I flinch, head turning to study his profile. “All the way at the bottom?”

  He nods.

  Ground Zero is everything Level 12 is not. Limited technology, no greenery, the cement buildings built close together to provide a base for all the levels that sit on top of it. Concrete and dirt and the stench of the slaughterhouses, where the Blue Guard barely patrols because the citizens killing each other off just makes life easier for everyone who lives above them.

  No one willingly lives on Ground Zero.

  My voice cracks. “Why would she take him there?”

  “Where else could she hide after kidnapping a High Councilor’s child?” Helpless, his hands open and close in his lap as if in search of something to hang onto. “They don’t know how she even got him off the level. She must have swapped out her dat-band with someone else and hidden Felix somehow. When they found him, he was malnourished, almost dead, delirious with fever. He didn’t recognize us right away, and he screamed every time he was left alone. He wouldn’t let our mother near him for the first three days. I slept in the room with him every night.”

  Unable to resist, I reach for his nearest hand and thread my fingers through his. For a moment, they remain limp and unresponsive, and I question if I should have just accepted his obvious desire for distance.

  But then his fingers curl around mine. “After the first week, with a Rothvan physician overseeing his care, Felix regained his health, and his memory returned, but he wouldn’t speak to say where Mrs. Porter was or how he ended up on Ground Zero. That’s when our parents brought in the mind specialists. His physician said it was too soon, but they wanted to make sure Mrs. Porter was caught, that she wouldn’t be able to come back and reveal what happened to the public.”

  “That’s horrible.” My ears tickle, and I rub at one lobe. “How could they do that to him so soon after he was rescued?”

  Eyes closed, Connor leans his head back against the brick wall. “Appearance over compassion.”

  I know the concept all too well. Running my hand over the grass at my hip, I finger one of the green blades, the same color as Connor’s and Felix’s eyes. Our entire world is based on appearance. How the public sees the ruling families. We must be perfect so that our word is never questioned. We must be wealthy and beautiful so that others may aspire to be us. We must give perfect smiles in public and keep all of our back-stabbings to the shadows.

  “Did they find Mrs. Porter?” I ask at last.

  “Yes, but not through any information they gained from Felix. Voice scanners caught her at the dock destined for Holstar. She thought she could escape Leton. She might have hidden forever if she’d just stayed put, but I guess she didn’t want to live on Ground Zero for the rest of her life.”

  I don’t have to ask her fate to know she didn’t make it back to booking at the Halls of Justice. No one who crosses a High Family survives.

  My mind whirls with all the new information, processing and slotting each tidbit into the puzzle of the Williams brothers. Why Connor’s now heir to the council seat, why Felix acts out and clings to those he cares for.

  Dread twists through me, and I release Connor’s hand before I push to my feet. “Thank you for telling me. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

  He doesn’t try to stop me. “I think I’ll stay here a little longer. It’s peaceful. Message me later?”

  I nod, feet already turning toward the path back into the school.

  I’ve never actually been to Felix’s room, or any of the guys’ rooms for that matter. They’re not spaces designed to have company. But I hadn’t found Felix in the Dining Hall, Entertainment Hall, Library, or in the snack room, which brought me here, hovering outside of his door.

  My hand shakes as I lift it to knock lightly, the motion foreign. There aren’t a lot of places in life that required I request entry. In public, doors simply open for me, and at home, I only go where I’m allowed. Visits to my father or grandmother are always arranged in advance, my presence expected, so knocking became unnecessary.

  Now, my knuckles tingle, the rap against the door deadened by the solid metal panel. Secure, but not conducive to sound travel. In fact, they’re specifically designed to block sound so inhabits aren’t disturbed by noises outside the rooms.

  No one comes to the door, and I glance both ways down the hall. At this hour, most people are still at the Dining Hall, which is why I went there first. But only Garrett and Nikola sat at our table when I poked my head in. Myrrine spotted me from a separate table, far away from Nikola, and tried to wave me over, but I refused, too desperate to find Felix.

  Biting my lip, I knock harder, just in case Felix didn’t hear me the first time.

  After another long pause, his door swishes open, and he glares blearily into the hallway. His black hair sticks up in every direction as if he just rolled out of bed. Behind him, darkness shrouds his room, something I’m not sure should be possible at this time of day. APA is all about schedules and has specific ideas about when students should and shouldn’t be asleep. If students want to nap in the middle of Day-Light time, they have to do so with the lights at full brightness.

  Without waiting for Felix to come fully awake, I grab his hand and step into his room uninvited. The door swishes close behind us, and darkness fills my vision before my eyes adjust to the dim glow of Star-Light.

  “Sprinkles?” Felix mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here? Aren’t we fighting?”

  “Yes.” I turn and lean into his chest. “But I want you to know something.”

  He nuzzles the top of my head. “What’s that?”

  “I’m not rejecting you. I’m not saying we can’t be together. If you want to be with me, we’ll find a way.” I lift my head, trying to see his face in the dim light. “About what I said earlier. I do want you to accept all of me. I don’t think there’s any other way for this to work. But I don’t want you to think I’m rejecting you.”

  “Shit, Sparks.” He cups my cheeks, his lips ghosting over my forehead. “You really know how to keep me off cente
r.”

  “I don’t mean to.” I take in a deep breath. “I’m not used to all these emotions. I’m not used to being wanted. I haven’t felt stable since arriving here, but you help keep me on track, and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. You make me feel alive, like a core crystal runs right through me. You’re light and energy and—”

  He kisses me, his lips hot and demanding. Energy races through my body, an all over buzz that brings me to life. No one else can do this, make me feel this way. I rise onto my toes, arms around his neck to pull him closer, needing to chase the light that sings through my veins. Felix is the embodiment of a light-ring, and I hold him in my embrace, for a brief moment taming the untamable.

  After only a moment, he turns his head away with a soft groan. “If we don’t stop, I’m going to do something neither of us is ready for.”

  The urge to tell him to continue trips down my tongue, but I manage to swallow it back. This is not the time or place, not with our emotions so volatile, not with the chance his roommate will return at any minute. I need time to think about Connor’s words, about breaking tradition and blazing new paths, of what it would mean to choose to stay, to give up on running. Because in my heart, I already know I can’t leave. Not if it means losing Felix and Connor. I can’t cut off half of myself and believe I’ll be able to replace it with textbooks and theory.

  I have to give up dreams of running and stand my ground.

  Felix slips his fingers through my hair, then presses another kiss to my forehead. “This is the best fight I’ve ever had.”

  A pang reverberates in my heart. I don’t want to be fighting at all. I want to push Felix to tell me he accepts me right now, but I force myself to let him go and drop back to my heels. We have time to come to terms with each other. It’s not like the small school allows for distance to avoid each other, even if we wanted to.

  Small favors in tight quarters.

  I pat along the wall until I find the pad next to the door. “So, in conclusion, we’re in a fight, but I’m not rejecting you.”

  “I’m not rejecting you either, Sparks.” Then he clears his throat. “Caitlyn. Cait? Lyn? I’m going to need to get used to that.”

  “I don’t mind Sparks and Sprinkles, as long as that’s not all I am to you.” I move my hand over the panel, and the door swishes open once more. I blink at the sudden brightness and glance back as I step out into the hall. “And if you have trouble sleeping tonight, you know where to find me.”

  Grasping the doorframe with one hand, he leans out, mischief clear in his gaze. “Even though we’re fighting?”

  “This and that are two different things.” Then my hand lifts to my neck where tenderness reminds me of our earlier moment together. “Though convincing Myrrine might be more difficult this time.”

  He steps farther out into the hall. “You still haven’t explained that one.”

  “Maybe next time.” With a wave, I turn and hurry down the hall only to come up short.

  Garratt and Nikola stand together, Nikola expressionless, while mild curiosity fills Garratt’s face.

  My steps slow as I near the two men, any ease I gained from speaking to Felix fleeing at the reminder of my babysitters.

  Garratt’s hand lifts to catch my attention, as if I could have missed them there. “Caitlyn, good timing. We were just discussing going to the Entertainment Hall, but we can’t go in without wrist bands, and Connor and Felix seem to be missing.”

  Nikola’s black eyes cut to him, then flicker away, the motion quick enough that I would have missed it if I wasn’t staring right at him. Is Garrett lying to cover their eavesdropping? If so, it’s a horrible cover since it does nothing to explain how they found me here.

  I stop in front of them, my hands loose at my sides, the picture of calm. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “We’d actually just given up.” Garrett chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were on our way back to our room to get a little studying done.”

  I arch a brow. “Without tablets? I applaud your memories.”

  Garrett reaches over and grabs Nikola by the shoulder, giving him a light shake. “Didn’t you know? Nikola has near perfect recall. He was the teacher’s pet back at Tri-Worth Academy.” He shakes Nikola again, a little harder than the first time. “Everyone’s favorite, this one.”

  Nikola’s eyes drop to the floor. “You give me too much credit.”

  “And modest, too.” Garrett leans closer, his voice conspiratorial. “He’ll never brag, but he had quite the line of admirers.”

  “Did he?” My focus moves from the hand on Nikola’s shoulder to my old friend’s down-turned face before my attention returns to Garrett with cool regard. “Nikola is discreet about such things. An admirable quality in a secretary.”

  Garrett laughs off the quiet censure. “He is indeed. But with so many admirers, he left many broken hearts behind when we transferred here. People who will have the ear of your fellow councilors and city officials.”

  “Something to keep in mind,” I murmur noncommittally. “Did you leave an equal number of disappointed hopefuls behind?”

  A bashful look crosses his face. “I didn’t have it so easy in class and devoted my free time to studying.”

  Somehow, the studious image doesn’t fit him. “But weren’t you in sports?”

  “Yes, until my injury.” He rubs his left shoulder. “Tri-Worth encouraged competition in all forms. I was actually grateful the injury allowed me to bow out and devote more time to classes.”

  Curious, my attention shifts back to Nikola. “Did you also play a sport?”

  A genuine smile flits across his lips. “I was president of the 8-Ball Club.”

  “Slamming sticks against balls,” Garrett scoffs. “Hardly a sport.”

  My lips part for a moment before I close them once more to consider the two men. “You said you wanted to go to the Entertainment Hall?”

  Garrett’s eyes widen in surprise. I haven’t voluntarily spent time with them on my own. “If you’re available.”

  “Sounds fun.” I motion them back the way they came toward the stairs. “Lead on.”

  Sticks & Balls

  At the Entertainment Hall, we manage to score one of the 8-Ball tables, and Garrett rolls up his sleeves while Nikola and I walk to the row of cue sticks that hang in a rack on the wall.

  I watch Nikola peruse the options for a moment, weighing a few that come up to his shoulder and checking their center points on his outstretched hand. He knows what he’s doing, and I take my time selecting one for myself, making sure to choose the right length to avoid over-balancing myself. With my shorter height, my options are more limited, and most of the tips show wear.

  Garrett joins us, taking less time with his selection. He simply grabs the nearest one that comes up to his shoulder, runs a thumb over the tip, and heads back to the table.

  I choose the least damaged of my options and join him with Nikola close behind.

  Nikola bends below the table, then rises with two plastic shapes in his hands, holding them up. “Barricade or wedge?”

  My mouth opens, but Garrett beats me to it. “Let’s start with the wedge until Caitlyn learns the game.”

  “How considerate of you,” I murmur as Nikola tucks away the rectangular shape and sets the plastic triangle on the table.

  Garrett walks over to stand next to me. “Now, the way this works is you’ll be assigned a color at random. There are three red, three blue, and two yellow. Your goal is to sink your colored balls into the pocket at the far end of the table without sinking anyone else’s colors.” He points to the far end of the rectangular table where a narrow pocket in the center offers a goal barely larger than the black balls on the table. “If you sink someone else’s ball, one of yours comes back into play, and you lose points. Got it?”

  I nod to show I understand.

  “The tricky part is that there’s only one spot of color on each ball, so dependi
ng on how they land, you won’t know which ones are yours.” Garrett motions for Nikola to join us, then points to three digital pads on the table. “We each put our hands on one of the pads to be assigned our colors. Red racks the balls, yellow breaks, and blue takes the second turn.”

  I nod again and place my palm on the pad immediately in front of me. Nikola and Garrett follow suit and after a moment, my pad turns blue. When I glance at the others, Garrett shows yellow and Nikola red.

  Garrett turns to me with a warm smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Second is a good place to start for learning. You’ll have the advantage of being able to see the colors first and locate your balls before they start moving around the table.”

  Lifting my cue, I salute him. “Got it.”

  Nikola stays silent as he gathers the balls and faces the colored sides down inside the triangular form.

  Garrett watches him closely as he takes up position at the opposite end of the table and places a smaller green ball on the felt top.

  Carefully, Nikola lifts the plastic form off the balls, and Garrett barely lets him get out of the way before he slams his cue stick forward, the green ball rocketing toward the black.

  It strikes with a clatter that sends the other balls careening around the table, bouncing off the raised sides. Little flashes of color appear and disappear as they roll around, and I track the blue ones.

  At last, they come to a stop, and Garrett steps back with a satisfied smirk. “Your turn, Caitlyn. Let me show you how to position the cue stick.”

  “Oh, I think I can figure it out.” I avoid his outstretched arm and walk to the side of the table where the smaller green ball settled near Nikola.

  It butts up to a yellow ball, in perfect alignment with the goal if it were my color. But all the blue ones ended up at the opposite end of the table. I study the layout for options on how to move my balls into play.

  “Tough luck,” Garrett says as he also studies the table. “Your best chance is to send the strike ball as far away from any reds as possible and hope for a better layup on your next turn.”