The headmistress blamed the late-night smoking breaks with Lance.
The charm of Archai tempted her to take a day to enjoy the winter celebrations. Out the window, the trees stood like giant toothpicks, in such perfect-looking rows it seemed someone had taken the time to plant each one. Fresh snow collected on the branches and bark, frosting the woods in a clean white sheet. She pressed her hand against the cold window. Another day. Today, she needed to focus on survival.
Ordinarily, Miya would strategize and build a stronger relationship with Lance. Navigating the situation with the captain meant staying a step ahead, and right now, she was several behind.
“What have you been up to, Mr. Lance Krowe?” Miya walked up the staircase and slid her hand along the burnished banister. When she reached Lance’s door, she checked for other people one last time and entered.
Neat and empty. Like no one even lived in it.
The large dresser against the far wall housed the usual types of floral decorations the Krowe's loved. Lance placed nothing on top save for a pair of pants and a watch. She searched through the drawers, memorizing the way he arranged everything, which wasn't difficult considering how little he stored. Even after smoothing her hands along the sides and bottom to check for hidden compartments, Miya found nothing of interest.
She spent another thirty minutes in his room to be as thorough as possible, but her luck didn't improve. Disappointment and anxiety warred inside her. Come on. She needed information.
She'd carefully put everything back as she found it, then search the shed. If she worked up the courage, she might explore the woods where she saw the soldiers too.
Boom.
A door slammed on the floor below hers. Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.
Really?
She dove into the closet and backed into the corner, closing the door with her foot. There wasn’t enough time to register the fear before the bedroom door bashed against the wall.
A man huffed for breath as he slid to a stop. The slits in the door cut through her view of Lance grasping the dresser with both hands, doubled over. Blood smeared the mahogany.
He fumbled around inside a pack. Why wouldn’t he seek medical attention unless he wanted to hide his injury? He may have been two-timing Krowe, and he definitely wasn't stumbling into danger by accident as an unaware fool. Miya discovered useful information after all, but this wasn't how she wanted to do it.
Lance spun towards her, ripping a gun from the bag.
A shot of fear pulsed through every vein. Miya fell back, grasping for anything within reach. A shoe.
A shoe?
No. How useless!
Okay, Lance had no reason to shoot her. He wouldn't. Trying to calm her storming heart, she raised her hands in front of her face when the closet doors flew open.
His gun didn’t waver. Blood soaked a messily applied bandage around his midsection.
“Miya,” he said then, gun lowering.
She clutched the shoe with both hands. “Why do you have that—?”
“What are you doing? Get out of there.”
A normal person would scream or cry. Or screamandcry. Miya squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be too distraught to even hear his request. “Please! Don’t hurt me!”
He stared, expression unchanging. “Can we not play? I'm in a situation.”
With a wince, he stretched out a bloody hand to help her before looking down to see the mess and then wiped his palm against his pants.
Miya dried the tears she managed to squeeze out and rose, regarding him with a long warning look in those baby brown eyes. No more playing? Fine.
She kept her head held high as she walked along the dresser, eyes following the streaks of blood. “Having fun while Krowe is away?” Acid flowed through her veins. Miya just destroyed her cover with her target. Being hasty brought this upon her.
Lance held his side, wilting against the wall, the gun in his hand still, but pointed at the floor. “You too, apparently.”
“How’d you know I was in the closet?” Miya settled on the edge of the bed, crossed one leg over the other, and cupped her hands over her knee. At least now she would learn who Lance really was. And he hadn't killed her yet. She appreciated that.
