Page 155 of Storm Caller

“You’ll leave,” I whisper, my voice so raw it burns.

“That was always the plan,” he says. “You know that.”

“I do.”

“My offer still stands,” he says. “I want you to come with me.”

I roll my neck. “I know you do.”

And I leave it at that. I can’t tell him that I promised myself I wouldn’t leave my mother. I have to find a way to protect her. We’ll have time to figure this out later. I hope.

Then he leans over and presses his mouth softly to mine one more time. His kiss is gentle. Careful. An image surfaces in my thoughts of a delicate crystal orb, so thin it might shatter with a breath. I imagine that’s who we are right now, and that no matter how hard we try to protect it, the world will do its best to shatter what we’ve built.

He pulls away, and I slide off him before he climbs off the rock.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says, fusing the words with certainty.

No room for questions.

I nod as he turns away. I hope that’s true.

“Rook?” I ask.

He turns back. “Yes?”

“Just in case . . . promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t leave without saying goodbye first.”

He pauses, his chest hitching with a sharp breath.

“I promise.”

Then he disappears into the shadows, leaving me alone.

55

“Poet! Wake up!” Someone is shaking me, and I groan. “Poet. They caught him! Wake up.”

After Rook left me at the rocks last night, I snuck back into the school and passed out in his bed, still fully dressed. The room is cold, and my nose and fingertips burn with ice.

“What?” I ask, blinking against the morning light to find Domino standing over me, wearing her pajamas.

“It’s all over the news,” she says, sitting on the bed and holding out her phone. “They even have video.”

I snatch it from her and watch with mounting horror as the newscaster speaks in her crisp, clear voice. “Solitude and second-year Amery Student Rook Athira was apprehended last night, ending a citywide manhunt for a killer. Patrol officers spotted him in the factory district at approximately eleven p.m. yesterday evening. Reports indicate the suspect ran, but after chasing him for several blocks, they surrounded and arrested him . . .”

Eleven p.m. Shortly after he left me at the rocks.

I choke out a sob, covering my mouth.

This is my fault. I’m the one who drew him out.

I wanted to see him, and all I did was put him in danger.

Suddenly, I don’t feel very well.

After tossing Domino’s phone on the bed, I leap up and bolt for the bathroom, where I hurl up the contents of my stomach until there’s nothing left. Tears run down my cheeks, and my nose drips, my lungs burning.

They have him. They’re claiming he’s a murderer. What will they do to him?