Read Online The Pale Waters (#1 Reclaimed Souls) by Della Roth - Free Book Online

maybe you’re lying to yourself. Admit
it, you were happy when you found out the communicator tablet
broke.
    I didn’t think I’d have a problem separating
my feelings from the Roland I fell in love with as a girl from the
Roland I’ve been ordered to assassinate.
    I step into the next lift and exit at the
ninth floor.
    The area is small, and five stairwells
branch out at evenly spaced intervals, much like the spokes of a
bicycle tire, with the lifts being the center. I walk through a
rich mahogany door and enter Roland’s apartment.
    Ebony wooden floors and furniture butt up
against creamy white walls. On one small table, I spot a folder
with my name on it, but I leave it alone. I won’t find anything I
don’t already know about myself. Most of it I invented, even the
true parts.
    On the far side of the apartment is a large
window covered by thick, embroidered draperies. Only ribbon-like
streaks of gray light pour through, but it’s enough to orient
myself to the room and to nearly fall head over heels for the
space. My own apartment is lush, but it is nothing compared to
Roland’s home. It’s larger, but he uses the space perfectly without
filling it up with needless items. The simplicity of the room
speaks volumes. The man doesn’t like clutter.
    “I see you found it,” he says to me from
somewhere to the left. I step forward to investigate where his
voice came from, but I do not answer him immediately. I pass a
mirror-less bathroom, a busy-looking office-like room with dozens
of maps hanging on the walls, his living room with the covered
windows and a working fireplace, and finally into a darkened and
darkly furnished bedroom.
    I linger in the doorway. I hear him moving
about, but I cannot see him. Whether this is how he wants it to be
at this moment or how his apartments normally are, I imagine that
he generally moves about in the darkness, or, at the very least,
very dim rooms.
    I hear movement, and I sense him before I
can see him. Roland is covered head to toe in a dark brown,
masculine-shaped fabriskin robe. Plain. Unadorned. Ordinary. No one
will question him, especially with the hood over most of his face.
Most of the city’s citizens are similarly garbed, regardless of the
weather or the season.
    “You’ll need this.” He gives me a similar,
smaller robe. It is also plain, deep brown, but slightly
embellished with inexpensive-looking turquoise gems and stones at
the hem and cuffs. I layer the fabriskin over my trousers and
button-down shirt, and it fits perfectly. I pull the hood over my
head to match him.
    “I swear, is this Palace full of clothes and
robes that will fit me, should I spontaneously decide to try them
all on?”
    “You are the same size as my late sister,
Lisbeth.”
    “Oh,” I say. His answer is unexpected, and
my attempt at a stupid joke turns into a jab aimed right into
Roland’s heart. “My condolences. I apologize if I sounded like a—”
I swallow hard.
    “Jerk?”
    “Precisely.”
    “All is forgiven. Let us speak no more of
it, then. What is this place you must patronize?”
    “It doesn’t have a name. If one doesn’t know about it, one doesn’t need to know about it.
What’s a name got to do with anything?”
    “A most interesting concept. And you know
the way?”
    “If you show me how to get out of the Palace
Skyscraper, I’ll lead the way once we are outside.”
    Hopefully Dorni is back , I think.
    We walk out of his apartments, the door
locks for him, and Roland takes me out through the back servant entrance.

SIXTEEN
     
    WE HIT THE COBBLED STREETS OUTSIDE. With the
city empty, a few vendors stand around listlessly. We are
immediately beseeched with offers of food, sun vitamins, new and
used hydration patches, and, of course, sexual favors.
    Declining and stepping around two competing
vendors, we’re barely around a corner when I can hear the two men
fighting over territory.
    It’s about noontime, the sky is dim—not too
dark—and thin rays of