Chapter Seventeen
The return journey from Lamishton is cold, long, and leaves Annette exhausted. By the time she reaches Mill Street, it's certainly an hour or two past midnight, and her feet are aching and weary. Her face feels stiff and numb from the cold, and she's sure she will be feeling the consequences of this exertion in the morning. She lumbers up the steps to her home, allowing her excitement to see Cordelia to carry her as it had for the entire journey. She can't wait to witness the look on the detective's face when she hears what has transpired.
The sound of glass shattering inside electrifies Annette as she reaches for her keys, and suddenly the weight of her journey leaves her.
Jarl can't have gone after her yet, could he?
She scrambles to open the door, swinging it open and grabbing an umbrella in the vain hopes it'll sufficiently bludgeon any intruder.
She hears noise in the dining room, and quickly leaps inside to find Cordelia slouched in a chair, the shattered remains of a whiskey bottle decorating the floor. She looks disheveled and injured, and Annette notices the far too familiar sight of blood on her knuckles, bruises on her torso, and the stench of alcohol.
"Oh, Christ!" Cordelia leaps up, only to stumble to the floor and cut her hand on a shard of glass. She lets out a quiet curse and groans from the pain.
"I didn't mean to startle you!" Annette apologizes, carefully moving forward to assist her.
Cordelia glowers at her as she rises. "Have you come to gloat?" She hisses.
Annette freezes, depositing the umbrella on the table. She furrows her brow and asks, "What reason have I to gloat?"
A chuckle of disbelief escapes Cordelia's mouth, and she shakes her head, exasperated, and gestures to the wreckage around her. "The effect has been quite as expected!" She sighs, shaking out the pain from the cut in her hand. "Just... just leave me to grieve in peace. I at least deserve that, don't you think, Miss Baker?"
Annette feels a discordant pressure in her chest, trying to understand Cordelia's anger. "Are you alright? Tell me what is-,"
"Am I alright? Christ, the audacity," Cordelia spits. She shuffles back to her seat and drops her body into it without any care. "I could not bear losing you, Annette, that is what I told you. You promised you would stay, and like a fool, I believed you."
Annette frowns. "Am I to be blamed for being kidnapped?"
"Kidnapped. Kidnapped?" Cordelia glares around the room. "She has the nerve to lie to me
and
gloat at my despair?"
"I assure you I do not know what you mean."
"I tore the city apart searching for you. I called upon my entire network, scoured the dark and dismal places of Bellchester, and you were nowhere to be found," Cordelia stands once more, pacing back and forth across the room, glass crunching underneath her boots. "And now, you stroll in as though nothing is the matter? As though tonight is like any other night?"
"I was
kidnapped
."
"Spare me," Cordelia dismisses. "I already know the truth." She smacks a fist against her chest, leaving a small smudge of red on her button-up shirt. "I felt it in the pit of my stomach where you were, and I tried to ignore it. To give you the benefit of the doubt. I waited until the end of my search to approach your Mallets, and they told me plain and clear what occurred."
Annette steps forward, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you know what occurred then why are you angry with me?"
"Christ, must you be so innocent of it all?"
"I assure you my innocence is no act. Who did you speak to and what did they tell you?"
Cordelia waves her arms in front of her as she talks. "Marian led me to Guy who led me to Merlin," she explains. "Merlin informed me you were returning to them, despite Jarl's objections."
Annette feels a surge in frustration at Merlin, annoyed he had so greatly misrepresented the situation. "And you believed him?"
Cordelia shoves a hand into her pocket and pulls out the signet ring that had once decorated Annette's collar. "I know you gave this to him. So easily tossed aside, am I?" She drops the ring on the table, letting the metallic sound chime out across the room.
Annette retrieves it, holding it tightly in her fist. She speaks slowly, trying to get Cordelia to understand her. "Cordelia," she exhales, "I gave it to him so that he might inform you I was still alive."
"So you deny nothing? I've-,"
"I'm not finished," Annette scolds. "I worried whether or not I would be alive because Jarl held me at gunpoint."
"And I am to-,"
"
I'm not finished
," she interrupts more forcefully. She stares down the detective, challenging her to speak up once more. "Jarl is the one who kidnapped me. I did not leave you voluntarily. I am not leaving you now."
Cordelia shakes her head. "I know what Merlin said-,"
"Christ, will you listen!? Sit down!" Annette yells, gesturing for Cordelia to return to her seat. There's a brief, standoffish pause, but the detective eventually sighs and drops back down. Annette grumbles to herself, departing to the kitchen to retrieve water and a clean cloth. She pulls a chair over to Cordelia and holds out her hand, waving for Cordelia to show her the cut on her hand, along with her bloody knuckles. "Are these injuries accidental or deliberate?"
"Does it matter?" Cordelia mutters.
"It matters to me," Annette sighs. "Who did you box?"
"The wall of the bar. No, I didn't win."
"I wasn't going to ask."
"Yes, you were," Cordelia grumbles.
"Yes, I was," Annette admits. She dabs away the blood, gesturing over her shoulder to the glass shards on the floor. "Do you wish to speak about-,"
"The shattered bottle is your answer," Cordelia says, deflating slightly, her voice defeated and weary. "I trust you'll notice it's empty."
