Page 173 of Stormbreaker

I nod, but something about it doesn’t feel right. I distinctly remember the flash of red in the scion of Asale’s hand.

“Or disguise it to look like something else,” I say, picking up the House Fiama cards.

I flip them over and study them under the lamplight, comparing them for any clues.

“This one,” I say, revealing a card with no writing on the back. I tilt it toward the light, catching a holographic flash of The Shield’s logo, cleverly hidden unless you’re looking for it.

“Okay,” Rook says with a skeptical brow. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m not, but let’s hope my hunch is right.”

I replace everything in the drawer and tuck the key card into my back pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”

We enter the living room again, and Rook stops. “Can I see your room?”

“Why?”

“I’m curious. I want to see what makes Poet Graves tick.”

I glance at the door, worried about how long we’ve lingered.

“Just for a second,” he says, and I lead him down the hallway and open the door.

Light from the city illuminates the surfaces, shadowing the dim corners.

“It’s . . .” I try to find an explanation for why it looks like a child’s bedroom. “I never got around to redecorating.”

He smirks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and glances around the space. “It’s strangely you.”

“What? Pretentious? Ridiculous and immature? Overly complicated?”

He huffs out a small laugh and then turns to face me, running a finger along my hairline and down the curve of my jaw. “No, warm and safe. Beautiful and special.” He pauses. “Concealing layers of emotion underneath.”

I give him a half smile. “I’m sure you’re lying, but I’ll take it.”

He breaks into a beautiful smile that inexplicably makes my heart hurt. I hate how tenuous this all feels. Like we’re both glass left to sit on a window ledge on a windy day.

“It’s strange having you here,” I confess. “I didn’t think I’d ever see this place again. It feels like I’ve compartmentalized my life into before Fiama and after Fiama, and this apartment lives in the before, where I think it’ll probably stay forever.”

He tips his head. “And I’m after?”

“You are. You’re a part of my real life now. The one where I stood up for myself and finally started being true to who I want to be.”

Pride flashes in his eyes as he takes my hand, kissing my fingers. “Thank you for showing me this piece of you. We should probably go.”

I nod, and the lights flip on, casting us into a harsh, accusing glare. We both spin around to find someone standing in the doorway.

“Mom,” I gasp.

63

“What are you doing here?” she asks, blinking. Her hair is tied up in her sleep bonnet, and she’s wearing her robe and nightgown, everything made of lustrous silk in bright colors.

I yank my hand from Rook’s, whipping it behind my back. “I thought you were out for dinner. Isn’t it your supper club night?”

Her mouth flattens. I basically just admitted I was avoiding her.

“I wasn’t feeling well, so your father went without me. I woke up and heard voices.” She presses a hand to her chest. “You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”