Page 156 of Storm Caller

When I’m done puking, I sit back, leaning against the counter as Domino joins me on the floor.

“Where were you last night?” she asks softly.

“I went to see him,” I say. “They caught him because of me.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Domino says.

“I have to get him out. They’ll kill him.” I cover my mouth as my head spins with another wave of nausea, but I have nothing left to give. My stomach just cramps.

“We’ll figure out something. Why don’t we get you some coffee or a muffin? Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “I need to talk to her. She has something to do with this. I know it.”

“Who?” Domino asks as I struggle to my feet. I lean over the sink and rinse out my mouth, then peer into the mirror. I look like shit. My hair is tangled, and my eyes are bloodshot. Good. I feel like shit, too. The outsides should reflect the insides.

“Poet, who do you need to talk to?” Domino asks.

I straighten up and look at her. “General Sol.”

A moment later, we’re on the school’s main floor, headed for the exit. When the Patrol tries to stop me, I tell them I’m headed to the Citadel to see my father. They buy it, and then I’m storming across the plaza with Domino chasing my heels.

“Poet, what are you doing?” Domino asks. “You can’t just demand to speak to the general.”

“No? Watch me.”

I should have done this a long time ago, but like a fool, I kept believing in her.

We enter the building and make a right toward the gates guarding the security wing. A receptionist sits at the desk, peering over the rim of her glasses as we approach.

“I’m here to see Scion Graves,” I say. “He’s expecting me.”

The woman frowns, a furrow forming between her eyes. “The scion didn’t alert me to any meetings today,” she says, tapping away on her computer.

“I’m not here for a meeting. I’m his daughter.”

The woman adjusts her glasses as if she’s trying to see me more clearly. “Hmm. Well, I’ll just call up and ensure everything is in order.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I say when she reaches for the phone on her desk. “As I said, he’s expecting me.”

A click off to my left signals the gate opening. Someone emerges, and I don’t waste a moment, grabbing it and sliding past.

“Hey!” the woman shouts. “You can’t do that!”

“C’mon,” I say to Domino.

She hesitates, clearly uncertain—with good reason—but then she follows.

“Get back here!” the receptionist yells. I ignore her as we head for the elevator and press the button for the very top floor.

The woman slides out from behind her desk and approaches on short, quick steps, shaking her fist, her heels echoing around us like gunshots. “Get back here!” she screeches. “I’ll call the Patrol!”

I jab the close button over and over. “Let’s go,” I mutter.

Finally, the doors begin to slide, and the woman lurches, trying to jam her arm between them, but she misses as they slam shut.

I exhale a breath of relief and collapse against the back wall, while Domino studies me like I’ve lost my mind. Also with good reason.

“Did we just break into the Citadel?” she asks as she watches the numbers climb. I realize she’s still wearing her pajamas with a pair of slippers.