“She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, pressing her lips together.
My breath caught, and I hated that she saw it.
The iron doors along the corridor rattled faintly, one after another, though nothing touched them. The Priestess lifted one hand, and they stilled immediately.
Control.
Always control.
I filed that away too.
The doors obeyed her gesture, but the sound had started without her. The cells responded to something. My mark, maybe? Or the compound. Or whatever lived in the levels beneath us.
“You’re making a mental list,” she said. “Notes of things you think will be useful or that you want to explore.”
I looked at her. “What?”
“In your head.” She moved closer, studying my face. “Doors. Sounds. Touch points. Ways out. Weaknesses. I recognize it.”
My stomach tightened at the revelation. I knew my face was an open book, but I didn’t think I was being obvious in the least bit.
She laughed softly. “Good. I would have been disappointed otherwise.”
“I’m merely trying to decide where you keep your guest towels.”
The compound pulsed beneath us, and my shadow mark warmed in a slow, unsettling rhythm. It wasn’t only reacting to the Priestess now. It seemed to react to the building itself.
The silver veins in the walls glowed faintly, and the Priestess seemed to notice that before I did.
For the first time since we’d been together, uncertainty flickered in her expression.
It was tiny, but I caught it.
I looked at the wall, then back at her. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
I shifted my weight slightly, letting my fingers brush the stone beside me.
The mark beneath my clothes flared at the contact, but the pain didn’t spread. It sank inward, pulling something up from the wall.
It was almost like a memory. It wasn’t clear at all and felt more like a sensation, maybe.
Someone was standing in this corridor.
Angry and young…Gideon, maybe?
I felt a hand slamming against iron and heard the remnants of the Priestess’ voice, softer than it was now, promising something she never intended to give.
I pulled my hand away quickly.
“What did you feel?” she asked.
“Dust.”
“Lie better,” she demanded.
