Wystwood

22. Sky of painted stars

Ada almost laughed at the absurdity of Raeph's words. Did he truly believe she had come to Wysthaven in order to assassinate its sovereign? 

"I don't care about your city. I don't care who lives here or who rules them," Ada said, even as Min's chestnut eyes shimmered in her mind. "I'm only in this place so that I can return back home."

The man's eyes flickered at the new information, his voice rumbling in her ears as he asked, "And where, exactly, might home be?"

Ada felt as though she were feeling around in the dark, one wrong word and she may find herself falling into some lurking, unseen pit. "A world without fae. A place where we, too, have tales of your kind, but aren't foolish enough to place stock in them."

She braced for his hot temper to come sparking back to life, but he neither spoke nor moved a coiled muscle. His silence was somehow worse, smoother and more disturbing than a night's starless sky.

Raeph leant in. The leather of his sheath dug into Ada's waist as she clutched at the wall, her fingers meeting only the silken strands of cobwebs. She could make out the white of his teeth, sharp and pointed to match his angular bones. It was the mouth of a wolf ready to rip out the throat of a rabbit.

"Now, Raeph. That's not a very nice way to treat a lady," said a voice from the doorway.

The finely spun spider webs clung to Ada's fingertips as she flinched away from the sound, and disintegrated into the air as her body collided with plaster. Raeph took a step back, his eyes narrow and hands flexing as he spoke in soft warning, "This is no time to pry, Lark."

From over Raeph's shoulder, Ada saw a man lounging against the doorframe. His long limbs and sharp bone structure were a close match to Raeph's, though that was where their similarities ended. A warm flush freckled his high cheeks, matching the bright red hair that he had pushed back from his eyes. Despite his gangling height, his face portrayed a boy part-way through his teens, a wide grin spreading across his lips and daubing his cheeks rosier still. "Armestrong mentioned you were keeping our guest all to yourself."

"She's hardly a guest," was Raeph's only reply, his eyes still fixed upon Ada's face.

"Even so, you've kept her holed up in this stuffy, old room far too long," said Lark, examining his fingernails in the patchy daylight. "Plus, Solen and I are deathly bored downstairs."

Raeph stood for a moment longer, his eyes upon Ada's skin hotter than the sun at her neck. But then, to her surprise, Ada felt the force of the dagger leave her waist. With a jerk of his head, Raeph motioned for her to walk ahead of him to the door.

For a wild instant, Ada felt the urge to attempt a final shattering of the window, but the two men looming over her suggested she would unlikely even get to touch the glass. As Ada found her feet, the smile on Lark's face grew wider and he moved back through the opening. But Raeph's eyes were once again steadily watching her every action, his body taut and ready to pounce.

Reaching the room's threshold, Ada carefully stepped around the door. She had expected a corridor, or another room, but was instead faced with a tiny wooden landing. Several metres above her were bare and mouldering rafters, and from one side of the platform descended a steep set of uncarpeted stairs. Lark had just reached the floor below,  and stooped to avoid hitting his head on the low beams that ran across the room. Gazing down the narrow staircase at him, Ada suddenly regretted not tying up her boot laces.

Raeph closed the door behind her with an abrupt thump and an expulsion of thickly swirling dust. The platform was barely big enough for the two of them, and were it not for the rickety bannister that circled around the small landing, Ada might have stumbled into the long drop down.

But Raeph finger's curled around her wrist, long bones wrapping an easy oval around her skin, as he pulled her back and elbowed her onto the stairs. They groaned in protest as she made her way down, clutching the thin bannister and trying to ignore the occasional missing post that left the handrail quaking.

Lark hadn't waited for them at the bottom, his heavy footfalls thundering down another set of stairs below. Ada scanned the landing, trying to map out the layout as she took in several closed doors and, across from them, two wide windows. One had been opened a few inches, sending a spell of fresh air swirling about the room. Ada momentarily forgot her plan to escape as she breathed in the faint scent of wild jasmine. Her throat felt as thickly coated with grime as the windowpanes in her room above.

But seconds later, Raeph was again at her back, shoving her past the closed doors. More stairs, larger and sturdier now, spiralled downwards at the end of the room, and though they creaked with every step, Ada didn't have to fear falling from their edges.

She emerged onto the ground floor wide-eyed and gaping. A single room spread across the entire space, with half-stocked bookcases lining two of the brick walls and broken only by a wide oak door that could be latched with multiple locks and wooden slats. The closest wall bore a large and intricately carved fireplace, complete with copper kettle and skillet, while the staircase rose across from a back door. Running between the two was a tavern bar made of mahogany, and at its base rose carvings of vines and tangled flower.

It was the ceiling, however, that took Ada's breath away. The bricks and beams alike had been painted a rich shade of navy, now peeling and patched in places from age. Scattered across it were hundreds of stars, each one faded into its makeshift sky as if caught moments before winking out of existence. The scene had been painstakingly captured; a melancholic universe suspended in rapturous sorrows. It may have been the paled paint, but Ada could almost trace the galaxies that whirled like nebulous tides amongst the stars.

"Like it?" Lark grinned as he hoisted himself onto the bartop.

Ada felt Raeph's eyes upon her back as he prowled down the spiralled staircase, the fabric of his shirt rustling against the ends of her loosened hair. But he didn't press her forwards as she nodded up in reply, caught briefly in a moment of wide and wistful wonderment.