‘That’s it,’ said the voice; ‘that’s better. Can you open your eyes?’
She tried. Her vision was sore and blurry, her healed eyes almost blinded by the light from a lamp. A face hovered over her, a face that seemed to be glowing with a pure radiance. She tried to focus, and the features on the face sharpened. It was a man. He was gazing down at her with a mixture of concern and anger. Her vision cleared. He was beautiful, perfect. He smiled, and it made her want to touch his face.
‘Who are you?’ she said.
‘Do you not know me, Belinda?’
‘No.’
‘That saddens me, although I had been warned that you had lost your memories. All of the history that we share, and you remember nothing of it. But, maybe, this will allow us a fresh start together. A clean slate.’
He helped her sit up, and she rested her back against the wall of the bare chamber. They were alone in the room, she realised.
‘Tell me your name,’ she said.
‘All right. I am Edmond.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘The Second Ascendant?’
He laughed. ‘Yes. Don’t look so scared, Belinda; no harm will come to you. You are safe now.’
‘Where are we? Where’s Leksandr?’
‘He is being punished as we speak; Felice too. Their treatment of you crossed a line, and I doubt I will ever be able to forgive them for what they did to you.’ His eyes darkened, and she caught a glimpse of the immense hatred that was coursing through him. ‘They are lucky to be alive.’
‘How long was I in the mask?’
‘Four days. Can you stand?’
‘I think so.’
He helped her up, and she became aware of the state of her clothes. Leksandr must have left her lying in the stone chamber, neglected and filthy, for the entire time, and she grew embarrassed.
‘I need to wash,’ she said, glancing away from Edmond.
‘That’s where I’m taking you, Belinda,’ he said; ‘to a bathroom, where a hot bath has been drawn for you, and fresh clothes are ready. Do you wish to have servants attend to your needs?’
‘No. Thank you, I’ll do it alone.’
She put some weight onto her feet, and walked on her own, feeling her cramps and aches vanish. Edmond showed her to a door, and they walked down a deserted hallway to a large, tiled bathroom. Steam was rising from the bath, and she went in.
‘I will wait for you here,’ said Edmond. ‘Take as long as you wish.’
He closed the door, and Belinda walked to the full-length mirror that sat against a wall. She raised a hand to her mouth, her reflection making her want to throw up. Blood and pus was streaking her face, coming down in channels from each eye. Her robes were ragged and soiled, and her hair lank with sweat and matted with clumps of blood. She pulled her clothes off, and threw them into the corner of the room so they were as far away from her as possible, then climbed into the bath, sinking down into the hot water. She lay there for a moment, trying to piece together what had happened to her, then she picked up a bar of soap and got to work.
* * *
Belinda spent two hours in the bathroom, scrubbing every inch of her body, and washing her hair several times. She opened a window to let the steam escape, and pulled on the dress that had been laid out for her over the back of a chair. It wasn’t her style, and she felt self-conscious as she looked at her reflection.
Four days, she thought. The worst four days of her life. She remembered freeing Naxor from a mask in the Royal Palace in Ooste, and how quickly he had seemed to recover from the experience. He had been in it for two days, and she hoped that her recovery would be as seamless. Already, her mind was trying to forget all about it, as if it had been nothing but a bad dream.
The woman in the mirror stared back at her, and Belinda frowned. Edmond had rescued her. The Second Ascendant himself was in Lostwell. She tried hard to summon some hatred for him, but how could she after he had taken her pain away? He had gazed at her as if he loved her, despite the blood, pus and vile stench. Could he really be as bad as everyone said?
She opened the door. Edmond was standing in the hallway. His glance turned from looking out of a window and he faced her, his eyes widening.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he said; ‘like a dream. I have longed for this moment for a thousand years; no, longer.’
She looked at him. She hadn’t been mistaken before; his skin seemed to glow with its own light, and his face was as perfect as any could be.
‘Thank you for removing the mask,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘We have much to discuss. Walk with me, and we shall visit Lord Bastion.’
‘Is he in Old Alea too?’
‘He is. Do you know, this is the first time I have left Implacatus in five millennia? Lord Bastion has travelled through many worlds on my behalf, but only your presence here could entice me to leave my palace in Serene.’
They began to walk through the empty hallway, passing the door to the room where she had been kept.
‘We shan’t linger long in Lostwell,’ he said. ‘I have plans, many plans.’
He pushed on another door, and they entered Leksandr’s study. The Sixth Ascendant was on the floor in front of the Sextant, covered in blood. His boots had been removed, and his severed toes were scattered on the thick carpet. Next to him lay Lady Felice, her skin green-hued, and her face a melted mask of bone and blood. Above
