spine.
“Jesper,” he whispered. “There are bars on the windows.”
“Antsy monks?” Jesper offered, but he was not smiling.
The front parlor was two stories high, its floor set with clean white tiles painted with delicate blue tulips. It looked like no church Wylan had ever seen. The hush in the room was so deep, it felt almost suffocating. A large desk was placed in the corner, and on it was set a vase of the wisteria Wylan had seen outside. He inhaled deeply. The smell was comforting.
The woman unlocked a large cabinet and sifted through it for a moment, then removed a thick file.
“Here we are: Marya Hendriks. As you can see, everything is in order. You can have a look while we get her cleaned up. Next time you can avoid a delay if you notify us ahead of your visit.”
Wylan felt an icy sweat break out over his body. He managed a nod.
The woman removed a heavy key ring from the cabinet and unlocked one of the pale blue doors that led out of the parlor. Wylan heard her turn the key in the lock from the other side. He set the wildflowers down on the desk. Their stems were broken. He’d been clutching them too tightly.
“What is this place?” Wylan said. “What did they mean, get her cleaned up ?” His heart ticked a frantic beat, a metronome set to the wrong rhythm.
Jesper was flipping through the folder, his eyes skimming the pages.
Wylan leaned over his shoulder and felt a hopeless, choking panic grip him. The words on the page were a meaningless scrawl, a black mess of insect legs. He fought for breath. “Jesper, please,” he begged, his voice thin and reedy. “Read it to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Jesper said hurriedly. “I forgot. I …” Wylan couldn’t make sense of the look on Jesper’s face—sadness, confusion. “Wylan … I think your mother’s alive.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Your father had her committed.”
Wylan shook his head. That couldn’t be. “She got sick. A lung infection—”
“He states that she’s a victim of hysteria, paranoia, and persecution disorder.”
“She can’t be alive. He—he remarried. What about Alys?”
“I think he had your mother declared insane and used it as grounds for divorce. This isn’t a church, Wylan. It’s an asylum.”
Saint Hilde. His father had been sending them money every year—but not as a charitable donation. For her upkeep. For their silence. The room was suddenly spinning.
Jesper pulled him into the chair behind the desk and pressed against Wylan’s shoulder blades, urging him forward. “Put your head between your knees, focus on the floor. Breathe.”
Wylan forced himself to inhale, exhale, to gaze at those charming blue tulips in their white tile boxes. “Tell me the rest.”
“You need to calm down or they’re going to know something’s wrong.”
“Tell me the rest.”
Jesper blew out a breath and continued to flip through the file. “Son of a bitch,” he said after a minute. “There’s a Transfer of Authority in the file. It’s a copy.”
Wylan kept his eyes on the tiled floor. “What? What is that?”
Jesper read, “This document, witnessed in the full sight of Ghezen and in keeping with the honest dealings of men, made binding by the courts of Kerch and its Merchant Council, signifies the transfer of all property, estates, and legal holdings from Marya Hendriks to Jan Van Eck, to be managed by him until Marya Hendriks is once again competent to conduct her own affairs. ”
“‘The transfer of all property,’” Wylan repeated. What am I doing here? What am I doing here? What is she doing here?
The key turned in the lock of the pale blue door and the woman—a nurse , Wylan realized—sailed back through, smoothing the apron of her smock.
“We’re ready for you,” she said. “She’s quite docile today. Are you all right?”
“My friend’s feeling a bit faint. Too much sun after all those hours in Mister Smeet’s office. Could we trouble you for a glass of water?”
“Certainly!” said the nurse. “Oh, you do look a bit done under.”
She disappeared behind the door again, following the same routine of unlocking and locking it. She’s making sure the patients don’t get out.
Jesper squatted in front of Wylan and put his hands on his shoulders.
“Wy, listen to me. You have to pull yourself together. Can you do this? We can leave. I can tell her you’re not up to it, or I can just go in myself. We can try to come back some—”
Wylan took a deep, shuddering breath through his nose. He couldn’t fathom what was happening,