*
Seteal threw open the galley door, ignoring Fes’s cries as she burst out into the cold. She hurried along the frigid corridor, legs losing strength as they went.
‘Please . . .’ El-i-miir moaned weakly through the hatch.
Seteal threw herself up the rungs of the ladder, fumbled with the lock and hurled it open. The cold sliced at her ears and nose, but she thrust out hands and dragged El-i-miir down, releasing her to hit the floor with a thud. She slammed the hatch, shattering sheets of ice that had already begun to creep inside. But the hatch only kept the cold at bay for a moment. Ice filled the cracks between the door and the ceiling and slithered down the ladder coating one rung after the other
‘Come on.’ Seteal threw an arm around El-i-miir’s waist and dragged her along the corridor.
‘C’mon, darlin’,’ Fes beckoned from the doorway. ‘Quickly!’
A backward glance told Seteal why there’d been such urgency to Fes’s tone. Bits of air became visible as they froze and fell to the ground, only to drift back up and freeze again. Seteal put her hands in the middle of El-i-miir’s back, shoved her through the doorway and dove in after her. Fes slammed the door and locked it.
Panting loudly, Seteal stared at the door which warped and creaked, but otherwise held. Ice formed in the cracks, only to immediately start melting. The galley was lit up to capacity, with countless lanterns and the oven burning. Fes boiled water on one of the stoves, perhaps intending the crewmen to drink it should the cold become too much. Steam filled the room and the men became shadowy figures that wandered about, ghosts without direction.
Master Fasil dug his bony fingers into Seteal’s shoulder and slammed her into the wall, using his weight against her.
‘Get off me,’ Seteal shrieked, slapping at Far-a-mael’s chest.
‘Get a hold of yourself,’ growled the old man.
‘I’m sorry,’ Seteal chocked out. ‘I thought . . . I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again,’ Far-a-mael whispered menacingly.
‘I’m sorry?’ Seteal replied. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Your life is more important than hers,’ Far-a-mael hissed. ‘You should’ve let her die.’
Seteal pulled away in disgust. Perhaps Far-a-mael was not the man she’d thought he was. She shook her head and moved over to El-i-miir who breathed noisily where she sat propped up against the wall.
‘Here ye go, love.’ Fes waddled over to hand her a cup of tea.
‘Thank you,’ El-i-miir rasped, rubbing her knees. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated once Fes had walked away, this time directing it at Seteal.
‘You’d have done the same for me,’ she replied dismissively and sat down beside El-i-miir to rest her head against the wall.
‘You sure about that?’ El-i-miir half-smiled and chuckled in relief, only to clap a hand against her chest and wince.
‘You’re not so bad, El-i-miir.’ Seteal nudged the woman playfully. ‘You’re not completely evil.’
‘Evil . . . ’ The colour fled from El-i-miir’s face. ‘Ilgrin . . .’ The word came out softly but passionately. Seteal looked the woman in the eye and at last she could see it. El-i-miir had fallen in love.
‘The silt?’ Far-a-mael made his presence known. ‘What of it?’
‘He’ll die,’ El-i-miir whimpered as she struggled to her feet, dropping the mug Fes had given her and ignoring it when it broke at her feet. ‘He’ll die.’ She stumbled across the room and slammed bodily into the galley door. She pulled weakly at the handle and clawed at the wooden surface.
‘Not now,’ Seteal rushed over, having witnessed utter repulsion flare up in Far-a-mael’s eyes. ‘For Maker’s sake,’ she whispered by El-i-miir’s ear, ‘everyone’s watching you.’
‘But he’ll die.’
‘He’s already dead,’ Seteal spat in an attempt to snap the woman out of her feverish desperation.
‘No.’ El-i-miir winced. ‘I have to save him. I promised.’
‘Enough.’ Seteal battered her hand away from the door and pushed her back against the wall. ‘You’ll kill us all. He’s gone. Don’t do something you’ll regret.’ She lowered her voice and glanced over to notice Far-a-mael’s keen observation. ‘He’s dead. He’s already dead. Let it go.’
‘Yes,’ El-i-miir sobbed, resting her weight against the wall and sliding down its length. ‘I suppose he is.’
‘Okay, then.’ Seteal exhaled. ‘Get some rest.’
Taking her own advice, she sat down and allowed El-i-miir to rest her head on her shoulder. It disgusted Seteal to her core that El-i-miir could feel such devotion for a demon, but at the same time, this was the first human emotion she’d seen from the woman since meeting her. Seteal closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees. Perhaps love truly did lack bounds.
The Inner Circle: The Knowing Page 42