Wystwood

85. A massacre of voices

Sleep came with a blink of Ada's eyes and, when she woke, it seemed like morning had crept just as quickly. Long sighs and short snores echoed around the dining chamber, the air so warm it felt as if summer had arrived early. Ada sat up and looked around at the sleeping fae. Their bodies were pressed close, hardly moving, and Ada's chest constricted. Her pulse sped and her legs trembled as she rose, eyes skipping between the bodies and seeing the dead rather than the sleeping.

Lark let out a soft groan and Ada gasped when she saw that his face was twisted in pain. Red hair was stuck with sweat to his face, and he must have drawn blood from his lip sometime in the night, for it was now crusted at the corners of his mouth. Ada's hands shook, her vision blurring, and instead of waking him she staggered from the hall.

The air was cooler outside and she sunk down onto the marble steps, resting her cheek against the pale stone. She closed her eyes but couldn't clear her head, and so thought of Min and her glittering crown of salt. The Lady of Wysthaven had been certain that the Saltsworn had dissolved in mythos, yet now Min's secret had surfaced, known alone by Ada and Raeph. It was a secret so powerful it could change an entire world. It could change the already altered life of a child.

Ada opened her eyes and began to walk. Small sage-lights buoyed around her legs, her path unmapped and in darkness. There were no fae in the passageways, and the sounds of sleep sifted from the rooms she passed. Ada knew the infirmary would still be bustling, but doubted her presence would be welcome, even less so if Min was still asleep. Yet still, she walked, her feet taking her to a round chamber once lined with wooden barrels. Tall candles flitted around her, casting strange shadows on the domed ceiling above and illuminating etchings of Old Fae.

At the top of a short flight of stone steps was a wooden door. Its slat had already been drawn back, so all Ada had to do was press her palm to the wood. It swung open onto the circular study, its floor strewn with papers stuck by wax and dust. A suspended copper ring was still baubled with burnt-out candles, and its little light showed Edmere sitting behind his desk. Before him was The Gilded Book, open on a page that Ada didn't care to try and make out.

"Adalyn," he said calmly.

She didn't wait for Edmere's invitation before she sat down opposite him. He closed The Gilded Book with a low thump, though the candlelight still played across its cover like puddles of molten gold. His fingers knitted together on the desk, and he placidly held Ada's gaze with his pale eyes.

"I went to the Lady of Wysthaven," Ada said softly and, when he waited for her to go on, "She had a lot to say about the city. It's history."

"And now she is dead," Edmere replied.

Ada flinched, picturing the Lady's flailing arms as she fell from the tower and dragged Min with her.

She said instead, "When I first spoke to you, you told me that the Stone Circle only wanted to survive. That's why you're down here —you said it was to practice magic safely— but there was nothing safe happening in Wysthaven last night-"

"The Hounds-"

"No, not just the Hounds." Ada wouldn't let him interrupt her again. "Fae from the Stone Circle were using magic to hurt people. You told me that each contact with the city would bring you closer to destruction, but you meant a different kind of ruin, didn't you? You were destroyed before, but now you had the chance to do the same to them. 

"Yes, the Lady is dead. But what about all the others who also lost their lives? I saw a child last night with his arm entirely shattered. I watched Hester die beneath the tower. Is that truly why you wanted the Stone Circle to become stronger? Not just for magic, but for a massacre of your own? You said all you ever wanted was to survive."