Page 88 of Under the Iron Sky

One hundred and eighty-three.

One hundred and eighty-four.

“Human likes potatoes?”

“Yes, Golla,” Soraya managed to choke out through the burning hellfire in her arms, “the human likes potatoes.” Why she was referring to herself as “the human” she didn’t know.

“What kind? Golla make them.”

“Any,” she gritted out. “You pick.”

Two hundred and thirty. That was all she had to get to to beat Theron’s record.

Two hundred.

Two hundred and one.

“Who are you talking to?”

Soraya nearly jumped out of her skin at that deep voice. Thankfully, her body didn’t fail her completely, and she had just about enough strength to gently lower herself onto her knees rather than drop face first onto the stone floor.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead with a piece of cloth she’d asked Golla to bring, she turned to find Ikarus standing at the top of the staircase. He was wearing almost all leather today: trousers, boots, and a tapered jacket and dark shirt, both with collars high enough to hide the burn scars she now knew marked his throat.

He looked tired again, not surprising, given his injuries, but Soraya struggled to quiet the voice in the back of her mind insisting that there might be another reason for the sallowness of his skin and the shadows under his eyes.

Had he been working on this Hex? Soraya almost had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from asking the question aloud.

“You haven’t died in your sleep, I see,” she said instead, pushing all thoughts of it aside as she rose to her feet. She imagined he’d want to keep a closer eye on her after her escape attempt, but perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe if he was around her a little more, he might accidentally let something about it slip. Probably a fool’s hope, but a girl could dream.

Ikarus folded his arms across his chest. His eyes were flat today, but they took their time skimming over the exposed flesh of her arms and chest. “Not yet.” He watched her wipe the sweat from her neck and collarbone then asked again, “Who were you talking to?”

Now dry, Soraya threw the used cloth on the floor by the mattress and shrugged on her jacket. She’d have to shower later then, if he’d finally decided to show his face. She zipped up the jacket, taking care to clip the fastenings below her right collarbone to ensure the armored chest plate was secure, then shook her hair out from beneath the leather. She missed her twist, although she’d admit it was nice to have an extra layer to keep the back of her neck somewhat warm.

She made to point to Golla, but he wasn’t there. When had he shrunk off into the walls? Shaking her head, she asked, “What do you want?”

Ikarus watched her for another moment, his eyes briefly snagging on the tight curls coiling just past her breast, before opening the cell door with his magic.

“We’re leaving.”

Though no two words had ever sounded so sweet, Soraya couldn’t help but stare. “Come again?”

Ikarus’s expression grew incredulous. “You mean to tell me that you’re suddenly attached to this cell?”

“No,” she snapped, although there was a touch too much bite in her voice to be believable. “But after last week, I expected not to be leaving it ever again.”

“If it makes you feel any better, ordinarily that would’ve been the case, but an unusual opportunity has presented itself that requires my attention—and seeing as you apparently cannot be left unsupervised without trying to escape, you’re coming with me so I can search your memories as needed.”

“Why?” Soraya resisted the urge to rasp a knuckle-duster against her thigh. Though she’d only just been pondering if getting a little closer to Ikarus might help her learn about this Hex thing he was working on, this seemed too good to be true. “Surely you can just phase back here when you get a spare moment and search my memories then?”

“Phasing doesn’t really work like that. I need to be able to see where I’m going, or be familiar enough with the place I want to go to have a clear picture in my mind.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

“Nothing good. And it’s not ideal to be phasing back and forth over long distances so frequently after being injured.” Stepping back, he gestured to the set of steps behind him. “After you.”

Some stubborn part of her, that side of the coin that always seemed to be facing up whenever she was in his general vicinity, wanted to dig her feet in. This had to be a trap, right? For that mess in the metal graveyard, then the cave? There was no way he was going to let her get away with all that unpunished.

But the promise of getting out of this cell and seeing anything other than these same stone walls and old iron …