“Same,” Ellabeth chimed, clapping her hands excitedly.
“Hopefully weareallowed to eat at some point this dawn and we can all meet up here and go together?” I asked.
“Good with me,” Omarion said, starting to pull off his tunic while padding barefoot into his chamber. The amount of muscle that lined every inch of his back was startling. I found myself gawking, watching him go until he walked inside and closed his door.
“I’m definitely telling him you three were drooling.”
Ellabeth, Isandra, and I flinched, blinking away from Omarion’s door.
“Shut up,” Isandra said, before going to her own chambers.
I didn’t bother giving Daelun the satisfaction of a retort. I turned and found Quazar’s thick wall of shadows still effectively blocking us all out. I scoffed and went into my bedchamber, shutting the door.
My gaze fell on the platter of food that I couldn’t touch. My stomach grumbled. Loud. I tossed my head back, frustrated. How was I supposed to witness and process so much death on an empty stomach.
I spun around, deciding I’d prefer to meander around the tower instead and see what else was present outside of our collective chambers. When I pulled on my knob, the door wouldn’t budge. I raised a brow. Tugged on the knob again. Nothing.
I pulled the knob again, yanking it hard. It still wouldn’t move.
“What in the stars…”
I grabbed the knob with both hands. It refused to turn and open. I was locked inside.
“Is this some kind of trick? What is actually happening?”
I slapped the handle. No dice. I slammed a wing into it. It remained unmovable. Panic started filling my chest. The aroma of the food platter grew, filling my nostrils, sending my groaningstomach into overdrive. A small headache began pulsing at my temples.
No.
Somehow, this was some kind of trap.
If you choose to live by your stomach, we’re given no other choice. We will choose to let you die by it.
“No, no, no,” I squeaked.
The food aromas grew. My stomach growled. I banged on the door, slamming my shoulder into it. My foot. My wings again. The burning thing would not budge.
Spinning around, I ran toward the banister open to the outside of the wingtower. I pushed the curtains back relieved to see the space between the archways open and clear. I spread my wings and launched myself, flying out of the chamber. I looked to my right and saw both Ellabeth and Isandra doing the same.
“My door won’t open!” I yelled over the distance.
“Neither will mine,” Ellabeth cried back.
A gust of wind surged out of the clouds, sweeping through her blonde hair. The gust spun her around, wrapping her in the cloud like a bedroll, then tossed her back over the banister, back into her bedchamber.
“What in the stars?—”
Distracted by Ellabeth, I failed to see the same thing happening to me with the moving billows below me. Before I could fight it, I was wrapped entirely by cloud and flung back into my bedchamber.
Chapter 17
Irolled across the plush rug, shoulders colliding into a scrollshelf. I was instantly back on my feet, flying over the banister at full speed.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Isandra racing across the clouds. Then a billowy tendril shot out, latched around her ankle, and tossed her back into her bedchamber.
A shift of the clouds below snagged my attention. Cloudy hands started reaching for me. I angled my body and began flying upward. The clouds caught me anyway.
The billowy hand wrapped around my ankles, yanked me down, then flung me back into my bedchamber. I shot to my feet, threw myself over the banister and collided into an invisible wall between the archways so hard I thought I felt something snap.
