I rise to my feet, heading toward the cabinet that houses the skiesdamned iron-coated arrows, when a loud rumble of thunder rattles the room, quickly bleeding into the next powerful boom.
A storm. And from the sound of that thunder, a monstrous one.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
Mayah.
“Where are you—”
Saakar’s words cut off as I bolt from the room, emerging into the dark, brisk night. My booted feet slap against the ground as I run through the quiet camp, uncaring of the strange looks flashed my way from the handful of rebels still working.
Another loud thunderclap.
The heavy door of our building squeaks as I fling it open and take the steps three at a time until I reach the fourth floor. Torchlights flicker behind me as I rush down the hall.
Except our room is empty.
“Mayah?”
There’s no sign of her in the room. The washroom is empty, too.
Skies, I should’ve checked the infirmary first. Perhaps she stayed for another shift, and now with the storm, she’ll be terrified and—
My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of her cowering alone. Or worse, with a patient nearby. I stride back down the hallway, when a sudden thought occurs to me—maybe she’s with Tumaas.
They certainly looked cozy in the cafeteria, eating lunch together, his arm slung over her shoulders while Sura glared at me. Maybe they’re—
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
My fists bangs on the door before I can think better of it. Skies, these fucking shackles. Without them, I’d be able to sense her through the door, then be on my way.
A brief moment where my heart pounds in my throat instead of my chest.
Then—the door opens. Sura’s open face shutters as soon as she sees me standing in the corridor. Her blue eyes frost with icy hatred before I can blink.
“Here to finish the job?” she snarls.
I struggle to keep my face neutral.
“Is Mayah with you?”
She leans against the doorway, casually examining her nails.
I resist the urge to barge past her into the darkened bedroom.
“Yes,” she finally deigns to say. “Anything else?”
I scan over her head, but she’s kept the door barely ajar, blocking the view.
“You can go now,” she hisses. “Terrorize someone else.”
Behind her, the mattress squeaks, then soft footsteps approach the door.
“It’s all right, Sura,” a soft voice murmurs.Hervoice. I loose the breath I’d kept caged in my chest since the armory. Sura casts me one last icy glare before shoving back from the door frame and stomping inside.
In her place, stands Mayah—
—in a ridiculously short nightgown.
