Page 187 of Ashen Torment

“Fear not, he is intact.”

Dorian’s eyes return to me, fixed.

“I see you are in good company.”

Richard reaches out with his empty glass, bringing it close to Nathaniel.

“Excellent company.”

“Take him away,” I say with a thread of a voice. The fever makes my words heavier than usual.

Richard leans forward and laughs, a disjointed laugh.

“The tension in here... is a s-sword,” his head wobbles. “Or a fork. I don’t know. But it pricks. Can you f-feel it too?”

I lean against the table with an uncertain gesture, my elbow nearly slips.

Nathaniel seizes Richard by the arm. “Let’s go.”

“I love you, you know?” He staggers. “But you are made of stone. Everything ordered, everything cold. How do you never melt?”

“By drinking less.”

Richard allows himself to be dragged away.

“Evander,” he croaks, “if you should die before me, will you leave me the piano? Please. I need it to... to remember what I’ve forgotten.”

I huff, lowering my head.

Nathaniel turns toward me.

“Until tomorrow, Evander.”

I rest a hand on his arm.

“Yes, Nate.”

He lifts an eyebrow, suppressing a smile.

“Drink no more, Viscount.”

Dorian is standing frozen on the threshold, his hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tight.

The Brownell brothers move away. The door shuts behind them, the sound of the latch echoing louder than their voices.

I remain seated, my shoulders swaying slightly, but my eyes cannot pull away from Dorian.

He is right there, a yard away, but he feels as though he is on top of me. Or perhaps it is I who no longer know how to distinguish distances. The wine burns in my veins, heating my head and clouding my thoughts.

“Too elegant, as always.” I smile, my teeth catching my lower lip.

He remains motionless, his eyes fixed on me.

“Speak, putain. Have you come to see how miserable my condition is, or do you merely wish to clear your conscience?”

He swallows, that muscle in his neck pulls taut. A small twitch that feels like a wordless insult.

“I heard of the accident.”