Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,19
have the resources to help the tainted, we don’t have resources to police them. Then more innocents would be taken.”
Sam rested against the countertop, feeling sick with fatigue. “Are you going to do anything?”
“Do you have a means of getting back into Exilium?”
Sam nodded. “I think Poppy knew this was going to happen.”
Max looked at the gargoyle and it raised its stone brow at Max, almost like they were having a conversation Sam couldn’t hear. “Then I’m going to leave here and forget what I saw. But if you go back there afterwards, or do anything else outside of Mundanus, Ekstrand is going to notice.”
“It’s not like I want to go back there. Anyway, if he’s not going to help he sure as fuck doesn’t have the right to bust me for having to go back there to do so.”
“Actually, he does.” Max said. “I’ll check on you when you get back. At least you have some protection.” He pointed at the wedding ring.
“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Brilliant. Now I’ve got to break it to those people that they’re never going to see their families again.”
“I can’t do this,” Cathy said again but Father didn’t seem to hear her, extending his arm with a silent invitation to slip her hand into its crook and stride on to her destiny. The air felt thick and the boned bodice too tight to draw a breath.
“Catherine.” His voice was low and soft to avoid attention.
“I can’t do this,” she repeated, the thought bouncing around in her head like an echo in a cave. She looked at the waiting carriages and wondered whether she could sprint over, push the driver off and make her escape like a Western stagecoach thief.
A pinprick at her throat drew her fingers to the diamond. Poppy knew she was tempted to run and was reminding her there was no way out today. She imagined throwing the bouquet on the ground and stamping on it whilst screaming hysterically. Then she accepted her father’s arm. The prickling faded as she took her first step towards the entrance, causing a flurry of final preparations from the rest of the wedding party.
Far too quickly she and her father were going through the doorway, the beauty of the vaulted roof and grand oak at the far end of the hall now fully evident. The walls running down the sides were more glass than stone, but they still didn’t let in enough of the diffuse silver light of the Nether. Above them, huge globes of glass were suspended from the ceiling holding what appeared to be thousands of sprites. The worst day of her life was about to happen in the most beautiful place she’d ever seen.
Rows of seats were filled with people who as one turned and looked at her as she entered. Instinctively she slowed, her body betraying her desire to flee from their attention. Another prickle from the jewel at her throat and a tightening of her father’s arm around her hand pulled her into the forwards rhythm once more.
She heard the ripple through the crowd and focused her attention on the hem of Elizabeth’s dress in front of her. She couldn’t look ahead, not towards William, it would make it too real. A tear slipped free, feeling cool against her hot cheeks and she bit her lip, fighting to keep the rest back. I hate you all, she thought, falling back on her rage to stop her from collapsing in a sobbing heap.
Then Elizabeth’s dress veered to the left and Cathy realised she was almost at the end of the aisle. The Oak loomed ahead of her. Its russet leaves brought the memory of autumn into the great hall. She could see faeries flitting from leaf to leaf, peeping out to witness the marriage for the royal line. A terrible burning rose up from her stomach.
Her father stopped and gently held her arm so she followed suit. She was aware of people standing just ahead and her gaze fell from the Oak to two elderly gentlemen dressed in morning suits. One she recognised: the Papaver Patroon, Sir Papaver himself, who looked just as stern as she remembered. He appeared to be in his early sixties, but Tom had told her that he was rumoured to be over a thousand years old and had to have regular lessons in “modern speech”. Her eyes were drawn to his unusually large earlobes, something she’d stared at whilst he’d lambasted her for asking to go to