Page 65 of Winterveil

“You’re a generationally talented strategist, Klaudia,” Professor Narendra said, more softly now. “But you can’t sacrifice everything else to be that.”

She hated the tenderness in his voice. She hated how it made her chest ache.

Klaudia lifted her head. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Professor Narendra’s mouth thinned. “Klaudia . . .”

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

With a quiet exhale, Professor Narendra walked around his desk and tapped his tablet. “Yes, actually,” he said. “Dr. Iver wants to see you in the subbasement.”

Every building of any consequence in America, even one as old as Valeran, had a deep, steel-fortified subbasement. Valeran’s was labyrinthine: dark, twisting metal corridors, fluorescent lights guttering in a way that made Klaudia feel slightly ill.

It was their fallout shelter, where students were corralled during bimonthly drills. Klaudia had only ever seen the opening of the first corridor. Pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jane, she had squeezed her eyes shut as the earsplitting noise simulating the detonation of a nuclear bomb was piped through the speakers on the wall. Now she wound through the halls, following the directions Professor Narendra had given her.

Left, right, left, left, right. At the end of the corridor was a heavy steel door. It looked airtight, as if it belonged in the bowels of a submarine. Oddly enough, her fear abated further. Surely Dr. Iver wouldn’t make her descend into the subbasement just to tell her she was no longer a candidate for a DOD appointment.

With a new sense of assurance, Klaudia pushed open the door.

But it wasn’t Dr. Iver who stood in the cramped and windowless chamber. It was Julian.

She froze in place, the door creaking shut behind her. Julian looked as bewildered as she felt. His brow furrowed and his lips parted, but before he could speak, Klaudia demanded, “What are you doing here?”

“Dr. Iver told me to come.”

Was he lying? Klaudia dug her fingernails into her palm. “Me too.” A beat passed, and she found that she couldn’t contain her anger. “Aren’t you satisfied?” she asked. “Haven’t you taken enough?”

Julian inhaled, which made his chest swell. “I’m not capable of taking anything from you.”

“You’re implying that I lost it all myself?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m saying that you’re too good to lose to someone like me.”

Klaudia almost laughed. “That’s why you handed me the win, surely.”

“You would have won, if there hadn’t been . . . extenuating circumstances.” Julian’s gaze was sharp. “You would have beaten me, Klaudia, and you know it. If not for—”

If not for Carter. The unspoken words made her throat burn. Even if it was true, it was cold comfort. Extenuating circumstances were just excuses. Justifications. They didn’t matter. There was only security and risk, gained ground and scorched earth. She was the black box, everything inside her irrelevant to the game being played.

“If you really wanted to help me, you would have thrown the match more convincingly.” She hated how petulant her voice sounded.

“I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,” Julian bit out.

Klaudia found that hard to believe. He had played perfectly up until that moment. “And why is that?”

“Because you make me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

She recoiled, heart thumping. Was he saying it just to fluster her? She wouldn’t put it past him. Billionaire or not, no one could win a major election at age eighteen without calculated charm.

“You didn’t show it,” she said. “You made the best possible move every turn.”

“Well, you also make me play better than I ever have before.” He sounded disgruntled. “Just to meet you on your level. I’ve never had to try so hard. Does that satisfy you?”

“What a privileged life you’ve led,” said Klaudia, “for beating me to be your greatest challenge.”

“I never pretended otherwise.”

Klaudia searched Julian’s face. He was wearing a dressing on his cheek, which meant he had actually gone to the infirmary to treat the tiny cut inflicted by the shattered glass. A part of her was glad that she had marred his otherwise perfect, aristocratic features.