Chapter 19 Always changing tones
Celine’s POV
It was like a cold breeze blowing against my ear lobes, waiting for the worst fate that I was already rooted in to befall me.
“Celine,” he called again as though testing the wind.
But I waited for that worse fate to happen, and up to a minute passed. Nothing.
He must have asked the gammas to hold me up—not that he would be likely to do that, but it felt normal for him to do. Still nothing. For a moment, I thought he was standing right behind me, waiting for the weight of fear to press down hard on me before taking action.
“Fine,” I muttered.
Then I turned back.
He wasn't behind me. No one paid any attention to me. It was just me walking along the path to his room.
But that was his voice. I could tell even if he spoke from a far distance. He wasn't here, then who else had called me?
Damn… My imagination was playing silly tricks on me, creating sounds that weren't real. It must have been my nerves and the pressure to get to his room that had an effect. My fear of getting caught created a bad scene in my mind.
It sucked.
I resumed walking along the path to Tristan's room, this time dismissing every thought that I was on the verge of getting caught.
At least, this should be done with a clear head.
“Is that Mira?” a man called from behind me.
Oh… No, exactly what I was avoiding. And the voice—it sounded like Aiden, Tristan's healer, the crazy man who needed him to go on with the barbaric process of using my blood as a cure.
“Is that you?” he asked again.
I nodded. If I said a word, he might easily tell, I thought.
“Soapy smell all over you… Quick, change this uniform! I don't want any contagious smell lingering around Tristan's room!”
I nodded, walking too fast before he changed his mind and asked more questions. I heard his footsteps fade. I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d overcome a serious problem.
Just a few more steps to Tristan's room.
About ten more steps to meet my goal.
“Hey you!”
Who the hell was that?
With my eyes facing the ground, I turned around to see another maid, only that she was a more mature woman, probably superior to Mira.
“Most rooms downstairs need to be cleaned up, fast!”
“Yes ma’am,” I said.
I hoped my mimic of Mira's voice was good enough.
Five more steps would get me to Tristan's room.
Finally, I did it—but I was just at the doorknob.
Ten different gammas came in my direction. I had no bucket with me, no mop, no small towel with me. Nothing to use for a minor cleaning. And if these gammas became curious about my standing at Tristan's door, what was I supposed to tell them?
Maybe I shouldn't have taken this journey anyway. I shouldn't have gone through all this stress.
If I succeeded in getting into the room, how was I supposed to get out?
What if Tristan met me inside?
I could turn back to head in the direction of my room, but the gammas would be standing outside my room, thinking I was inside, probably having a sound sleep.
And if I should show myself to them, how would I explain that I dressed as a maid?
But I'd come too far in this crazy goal.
I turned the doorknob downward. The door creaked open. All I saw was darkness. Thank goodness, Tristan wasn't inside.
“I need a candlelight,” I muttered.
I used my feet to try to find obstacles like the table. A candlestick might be on it. It seemed out of reach though, as my eyes couldn't see through this darkness as a werewolf would see. The room was as wide as mine, making it difficult for me to find my way through it.
Ugh… I hit my leg against the frame of the bed.
And I sat on it, tending to my toes.
The smell of sex still filled the room. None of the maids had gotten inside since the hour I left. Even the part of the bed I was seated on was still soaked with sweat. Tristan’s sweat and mine.
I didn't need to remember that, but the smell wouldn't give me a break.
“The candle…”
When I touched it, it rolled to the floor, forcing me to go on my knees in search of it. I found it before it slipped beneath the bed, and I had to locate the table again.
I found a matchbox on the table. I struck it, and waited for the big reveal.
The patterns on the wall… It was just as I thought, exactly the same as the wall my parents used for their picture. The color of the wall—white—was the same, but this was Tristan's room.
What should be the connection between them?
And those pictures… they dated back some years ago.
My palms felt the wall as though I would know if I felt my parents’ energy in the room. I doubted if something like that was real. But I needed answers Lila had refused to provide. My first instance with Tristan, his calling me his mate, and ending a process that was supposed to grant him freedom from his curse.
What if the pattern was a good start to find out?
But what if it was simply a pattern, and could be copied anywhere else?
Designs aren't exclusive to a particular place, are they?
“Celine…” My name was called with a soft voice.
But I sure did know that voice even if it always changed tone and thickness.
This time, I could tell it was real.
But I didn't turn to look at him, summoning a great hope that he wasn't real, and that my imagination still had its place.
“You didn't tell me you were coming to my room.” His voice changed from softness to a firmer tone.
Always changing tones.
This was when I froze.
I didn't know what would happen next. I had no idea of what he would decide at this point.