Page 37 of The Souls Harvest
“Hold on a second. This wasn’t agreed—” Nikrah starts, but it’s his turn to be shushed.
“With all due respect, Nik, shove your not-agreed thoughts back in your mouth and shut up for once. Not everybody loves the sound of your voice as much as you do.” A remarkably composed and controlled Lily Drestall slams her delicate hand on the table, making Nikrah flinch and scowl, but ultimately leaving him speechless.
The short argument only distracts me for a second, and images of the night before spark in my mind when my eyes meet Popplewish’s again. I give her and Roden a polite smile, anchoring myself with the deepest breath I can take. My chest expands and my shoulders rise. I hold it for as long as I can before I open my mouth to let it all out.
The room falls silent as I describe that day in the cafeteria: my encounter with some students looking at a video, the skin-crawling sound of a suffering beast. I don’t hold back on any details except for Lucretia’s name. She’s not my friend, but I’m not ready to throw her under the Chapter-bus.
When I’m done talking, Roden starts walking towards me. I shake the stiffness off my shoulders and wait for his verdict.
With one hand behind his back and the other on his cane, a golden ring with his initials engraved, twinkling on his left ring finger, he saunters towards me, tilting his head to one side like I’m just a cute puppy.
“I can’t deny this is an embarrassing incident, but it is not irrevocable. Thank you for your honesty, Miss Crimson.”
He doesn’t only take me by surprise, but I can hear some of the people present sucking in disappointment and tons of questions, which Roden ignores, as if they were but a choir of fruit flies. “My fellow friends, we are here today, not to judge.” He stops behind me, and for a split second, I worry he will play his freaky trick on me again and take all my memories. But he pats my head and giggles, “No need to fear. I want your mind to be as clear andawake as possible.”
His touch is light on my hair, like the nerve-soothing warmth of a hot shower after hours spent training outdoors in winter. But I fear it will burn me to ashes if I say the wrong thing.
Roden gently leads me towards the empty seat, and I let him.
“Miss Crimson, I –we–are very sorry you had to live with such a sword dangling over your head.”
My chair is made of hardwood, but it is a more comfortable seat after the hard floor I woke up on earlier. From this new perspective, Roden looks taller and grander, but I set his aura of authority aside and say - “It’d be great if I knew what this sword is made of—” - causing a new wave of whispers and comments. I will make them talk, even if they're unwilling to give me answers.
Amelia drums her fingers on the table, singsonging to herself, but loud enough so everyone can hear, “Careful what you wish for—”
“Amelia!” Popplewish cuts her off and sits next to me. Her hand slides over mine, but I retract it like one of those anemones I love watching on Horigos zoos when I have time to kill. Except I’m not the one with the poisonous touch in the room.
As if sensing the growing tension, Roden cocks his head, giving me another of his fatherly looks. “Do not doubt, not even for a second, that we don’t appreciate that you’ve kept your fears a secret all this time. Well, we know you talked to lovely Galen, but that’s alsofixable,” he smiles.
I shiver and grip the bottom of my chair, bracing myself forwhat’s coming.
“What will you do to my soul?” Once again, my mouth is faster than my judgement, and I am not the only one startled by my stupid question. Alphonse Tydell gasps, and Proja stands up in such a rush that his chair topples back.
“Am I the only one thinking Miss Crimson kept the juicy part of her story from us?” Amelia echoes Proja’s reaction with more elegance, her white gold bracelets jingling melodiously, like her voice, when she interlaces her fingers under her chin. “She seems to know more than we thought. Why waste our time? In the past, cases like this were archived in the blink of an eye—”
Nikrah finishes her sentence with a smirk on his face, “Ah, the straightforward old days.”
For once, Miss P. keeps her opinion to herself. She has to have one; she clearly does, but the pain in her eyes when I look at her suggests that I may have crossed the line.
“Roden, if I may,” Popplewish presses both hands on the table and straightens her spine as if uncoiling one word at a time, “We are misplacing the attention of this meeting. July has already been through a rough night - not that she didn’t deserve it - but I’d suggest, for the sake of the Chapter and our sleep-deprived minds, to get straight to the point.”
For the first time in hours, we are on the same page, but I quickly look away to a random point on the wall instead of giving her the satisfaction of seeing agreement in my eyes.
I know she’s moved her gaze onto me. It tickles me with thesame electricity that made the hair on my neck stand up when younger Galen and I were busy in some illegal business, and Miss P. would take her time to observe us before making an appearance.
In the corner of my eye, I catch Roden nodding at her with approval before she bows her head and continues. “Do you know, July, what happens when the truth is bent a million times?”
“It turns into a lie?” I echo her questioning tone.
“Correct.”
Finally, some common ground. I’m all in as I blurt out, “Like making us believe that some souls are so rotten they cannot be saved? Or represent a threat to our people, like the Rogues? Sometimes, I do believe, we throw them an infected hook, coated in gold and sugar, that makes them decay the moment they accept Roden’s deal…”
Someone scoffs. Nikrah, most likely, but nobody acknowledges him.
Unexpectedly, Popplewish smiles. She was waiting for me to run the race and meet her at this exact point. “Do you know the natural evolution of a well-constructed but terrible lie?”
“Argument? Questions? Mistrust?” I shrug.
