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She presses her lips into a thin line and looks away. I don’t wait to hear her excuse. Standing, I stride to the door, away from her and Jost, but I hear her response. ‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that.’
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
I’m down one flight of stairs before Jost catches up with me. His boots beat down the steps behind me, but I don’t stop until his strong hand closes around my arm. He pulls me to his chest and I melt into him. I count the beats of his heart, each more precious than the one before, until I’m sure my own heart will break. As soon as he’s released my arm, I back away.
‘Ad—’
‘No.’ I raise my palm to stop him from speaking. ‘This has to stop now. You saw what they did to her.’
‘She did that to herself.’
‘Because they drove her to it. They warped her mind, Jost.’
‘She was an experiment.’
‘Exactly,’ I whisper. ‘To get to me. And anyone else in the way.’
‘So we pretend nothing’s happened between us?’ he asks.
‘It’s the only choice we have.’
‘I can’t accept that.’
‘We always knew this couldn’t go anywhere,’ I murmur.
Jost takes a step back and stares me down. I resist the urge to fall into his arms and instead push by him to the next set of stairs. There has to be another way. If I break his heart again . . .
‘I won’t live without you,’ he whispers, and his eyes say it all – desperation, betrayal, grief. But even as these emotions flash across his face, he reaches out his hand. He would risk everything – his own life – for us. But I can’t make that sacrifice. The Guild will kill him, too, if they find out about us. I can’t lose him, so I have to let him go.
‘Try,’ I say, as coldly as I can, but I’m dashing down the steps before he replies.
18
I skip breakfast. And lunch. I don’t leave my room. Valery doesn’t come to style me, so I spend the day strung across my prep chair drinking a bottle of wine. Valery would have liked that; she was always telling me to relax while she worked on me. Here you go, Val. I have another glass for Enora. And then one for my mother, who would so not approve. As it turns out, there are a lot of people to drink to, and I do my best.
I devote the second half of the bottle to Jost, who isn’t dead. Yet. I’m sure dragging him into this will be just the ticket to add him to my personal death toll. And no matter how much I drink, this thought sobers me right up. I can’t let them kill Jost or Amie or even Loricel. I can’t let anyone else suffer because of me. Which leaves me with two options: buck up and take one for the team or get out of here. The trouble with Arras is that the whole thing is watched and controlled by the Guild, right down to my personal identifying sequence. Even if I got out of the compound, a tracker could use my sequence to hunt me down before I made it past the rebound station. Or maybe Cormac would skip catching me entirely and have me ripped.
By mid-afternoon I’ve come up with nothing. But since no one bothers to force me to work I slip into a pair of linen pants and a soft cotton tunic – the only clothing in my entire closet that doesn’t require buckling, zipping, or stockings. It’s the perfect outfit to lie down and waste away in. Staring out the window from my bed, I watch as waves seep onto the shore. There is no snow on the mountain today. Everything is placid, programmed to counteract last night’s tragedy. The wine churns in my empty stomach as I stare out at the peaceful scene, and I feel anything but tranquil.
Behind me my door clicks open, but I don’t turn around. I told Jost not to come, so he can go about whatever menial task he’s concocted as an excuse to see me. Besides, I probably smell like Cormac by now. Not very romantic. But he doesn’t go to the fireplace or my bathroom. I can’t detect the exotic aroma of a late luncheon. Instead he walks straight to me and stands there; I keep my back to him.
‘Go away.’ Happily, my speech is clear.
‘I can’t.’ It’s Jost’s voice, but he speaks in a firm tone – confident of his right to be here. ‘I’ve been sent to retrieve you for a meeting with Ambassador Patton.’
The voice sounds so like him, but different, too. More professional, arrogant. Something clicks in my brain, and I flip onto my other side. Big mistake. Stars burst across my eyes, making my head swim. Maybe I am a little drunk.
‘Been a while,’ I say.
‘I thought it was better to—’ Erik begins.
‘Stay away?’
‘I didn’t want to push things.’
‘I think we crossed that line,’ I say with a cold smile.
Erik’s jaw tightens and then relaxes. I hold out my hand, and he helps me up. My balance is shaky, but, ever the gentleman, Erik takes my arm without a word. It’s strange to touch him now. I can see my arm looped through his, my skin scrapes against his wool suit jacket, even the back of my clenched fist brushes against his bare wrist, but there’s no spark. My nerves don’t react to the contact. I replay the memory of our kiss in the garden. My first kiss. But now I feel like a watcher not a participant. If there was something there, Maela destroyed it, along with the tips of my fingers. Or maybe it’s the numbing effects of that wine I drank.
