Page 81 of Avalon Tower
“Nia!”
A beautiful man shakes me, and I blink at him in confusion through the cacophony in my head, a million people talking at once. Who is this man? I don’t really want to pay attention to him, but he’s gorgeous, and he looks worried. The chorus of voices in my skull is deafening, but I want to reassure him that I’m fine.
Except that I don’t feel fine. I don’t even feel like I can talk right now, like my lips aren’t mine. Or maybe that I have too many mouths. If I open my mouth, twenty people will talk all at once.
“Nia, what happened?” he whispers. There is alarm in his alluring silver eyes and worry. He’s worried about me, and it touches something in me.
Raphael. I sigh. I like Raphael, though I shouldn’t. I might not know who I am yet, but I’m sure of that. The man with the silver eyes is Raphael, and whenever I look at his gorgeous face, I go weak.
“I’m…I’m…” I attempt to explain. “So many…thoughts.”
He frowns, then his eyes widen. “You read someone’s thoughts? Here?”
“Not someone…” I try to recall. “Everyone’s.”
“Oh, gods, why?” His hand is on my waist, holding me up.
I lean into him. He smells amazing. “I wanted…to find the map. For your sister. And I thought…” I rest my head rest against his broad chest for a moment, not entirely sure what I’m doing. Am I supposed to be avoiding this gorgeous, strong man?
At last, a clear thought pierces the chaos. “I know where it is!”
“Where?”
“It’s in my leather satchel.”
“Nia, you don’t have a satchel.”
“Talan is always trying to get me to carry his stuff,” I whisper. “He’s ordering me around. Lumos, do this. Lumos, take that. Lumos, watch my documents—”
“Who the fuck is Lumos? Do you mean Comte Lumos de Morlune?”
“Yes, that’s my title, you fool!” I snarl. Then, I shake my head. “No, wait. I’m not Lumos. He’s an ass-grabbing twat. But he has the map.”
I whirl to look for the comte. All those people around the table, talking and laughing. They have no idea I’ve invaded their minds. Unbelievable that they can sit there, as if nothing’s the matter, when I’ve glimpsed the raging chaos in their heads. And there. Lumos, with his bright red hair streaming over his broad shoulders and his satchel by his side. Resentment pours off him.
I lean in closer to Raphael. “See that guy with the bright red hair?” I whisper. “That’s Lumos, and that’s his satchel. The map is in there.”
“Are you sure?” Raphael whispers.
“Yeah, Talan made me carry—” I clear my throat. “Told him to carry it.” It’s hard to concentrate, to formulate the words. “It’s there. The map’s there.”
“Okay, lower your voice,” Raphael says softly. “I’ll get the satchel, and then we get the fuck out of here.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. He’s probably right. We should leave, though I don’t remember why. I stare at the chandeliers.
He lets go, and I almost collapse. It takes all of my concentration to control my limbs. It feels like I have thirty arms. Thirty legs. I half expect the people around the table to lose their balance as I stumble, because we’re all linked, aren’t we?
I pull my gaze back down just in time to see Raphael walking idly past Lumos. In a swift, casual move, he grabs the satchel from the marble floor. He’s by my side in the next few breaths.
He grabs my wrist. “Okay. Let’s go. Nia? Let’s go. What are you looking at?”
His dark hair frames a perfect face.
“Elora,” I mutter. “Isn’t she wonderful? Do you think she would ever love me back?”
Gripping my wrist, Raphael pulls me toward a stairwell. He doesn’t understand my heartbreak over Elora. How could he? Who could understand a friendship like this?
“Nia,” he whispers in my ear, “do you think you can run down the stairs? We’re going out through the servants’ entrance.”