Page 59 of Stormbreaker

I shrug and tuck up a knee under my chin. “I don’t know. I’m tired. It’s been a long few weeks.”

“You can say that again,” she answers before sitting up. “Remember when we were little, and we’d hide under the covers when the storms came?” Her voice takes on a dreamy quality. “They always made you so nervous.”

They did, but I don’t elaborate on why, though I have no doubt she’s always suspected something.

“And your nanny would bring us cookies and hot chocolate, and she’d sing to us, and I don’t know, it would make me feel better, too.”

The corner of my mouth tips up in a soft smile.

“Of course I remember.”

“Those times were so much . . . simpler.”

I suppose it’s easy to think of them that way. By then, I had a secret that could get me killed and a father who nearly did so with his temper. I’m not sure “simple” is the right word, but she’s having a moment, and I don’t correct her.

“Sometimes Raine would try to scare us by hiding under the bed,” I add, and she laughs.

“What a jackass,” she snorts before her eyes spread. “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

“It’s okay.” I wave her off. There was a time when I could barely hear his name spoken aloud and certainly didn’t want to be reminded of his shortcomings, but time has eased that ache, tamping it from sharp and bright to dull and chafing. I consider it progress.

“He was such a jackass when he did that. Among many other things.”

Her shoulders ease as she laughs softly before we both fall silent again.

Trinity blinks, and I watch as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “What am I going to do, Poet? I don’t know if I’m strong enough to pass the next two tests. What if this is it for me?”

I’m not sure how to answer her.

“I’ll be there with you no matter what,” I say. “And I don’t care if you aren’t Society. You and I are friends forever.”

I watch as tears fill her eyes, and she holds her hand out to mine.

We clasp our fingers together, and she squeezes them hard.

I stare at our hands, thinking of the days when we’d run around the playground or walk down the hallways at school, confident that we were safe.

“I’m not sure it will be that simple,” she says, and I look up.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “They can’t keep us apart.”

21

It’s raining when Trinity returns to our dorm room later that afternoon.

Despite the regularity of the storms, it doesn’t rain often in New Manhattan—something due to the air pressure and currents I don’t really understand.

Thankfully, Lacey and Winter have already left for the memorial, so Trinity has a bit more time before she’s forced to confront an audience.

She still wears a bandage across her collarbone, and I help her into her high-necked jacket to cover it up. Once she’s in her dress uniform, she steps back to assess her reflection.

“You look great,” I assure her, and she shakes her head.

“I’m such an embarrassment.”

“Don’t say that,” I counter sharply. “Is it really such a bad thing that you didn’t take someone’s life?”

“Poet.” She whips around to face me, her eyes wide like I’ve suggested something disgusting. “What’s gotten into you lately? Stop saying things like that—you’ll be in even more trouble than you already are. And stop acting like you aren’t in as much shit as I am. You tested for House Aria. You’re a traitor as far as everyone in Fiama is concerned.”