CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
FIRM HANDS PULLED ME UP, AND I BURST TO THE SURFACE, spluttering and coughing. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub.
“Are you all right?” a deep voice asked.
“I—I fell asleep,” I gasped. The room had grown dark. How long had I been in the tub? Midnight hair came into view. My stomach plummeted to the ground below at the sight of my Mate. “You made it out?”
Collin released my arms. “I did.”
“What are you doing here?” The acrid smell of smoke radiated from him.
“Phillip said you had shut yourself in your quarters. I knocked. You didn’t answer, so I came in to check. You were asleep in the tub. I didn’t plan to wake you, but you began thrashing around and went under, so I pulled you out. I have seen enough death today.”
Collin leaned against the counter. The soft sound of water dripping from his green-clad arms filled the room. For once, his hair was disheveled. Soot marred his face. I wrapped my arms around myself.
The attack. The raging fire. I felt my anxiety returning with each breath—clutching me in a choke hold. “Is it bad?”
Collin nodded, staring at his wet hands. My arms tightened around me.
“I will give you privacy. There’s food.” Collin turned toward the door, his heavy gear shifting as he did.
He looked so at odds with the Collin I knew in suits. I took him in, the polished exterior shed for something more real—more lethal.
“Why are you in that gear?” I asked.
He stopped at the door. “I was in the Elite Force before I became an Illum. The role I have for the Illum . . . it’s because of this.” He gestured to the gear.
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked,” Collin said over his shoulder as he left.
Several minutes later I stood in front of the mirror, taming my wild curls. I wore black silk pants and a matching long-sleeve top. The colors and options had been too overwhelming, and the dark simplicity soothed me.
My eyes were blue and brown. There was no lens in the bathroom. I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath.
I had spent my whole life hating my defect. I finally embraced my difference, and now . . . now all I saw was him. Hates her eyes, make her like them.
I walked away from my reflection and headed to the living area, barefoot. Cold tea sat on the table alongside the device Nora had used to read the Press.
I picked it up. Would they already be reporting on the attack?
It lit up, but there was no image of the fire.
Instead it was an image of Collin dancing with a woman in red at the ball.
The woman was smiling at Collin. Her name was Eve, I remembered distantly.
The caption read: ILLUM MATE’S EARLY DEPARTURE FROM BALL RAISES QUESTIONS: ARE MINORS BEYOND REFORMING?
I placed the device down. I didn’t want to read anything anyone had to say about me. I had read enough today.
The sky was dark. No clouds floated by, only large plumes of smoke so thick they blocked the stars and moon. In the distance, still burning, was the fire.
Footsteps sounded behind me. “Are the Illum angry?”
“Furious,” Collin confirmed.
I turned toward him. He wore one of his customary black suits, his hair wet but in place once more. His eyes traveled over me. We hadn’t spoken since the ball.
“And you?” I asked. “Are you angry?”
“Are you referring to the attack or the ball?” Collin asked, coming to stand next to me.
We both stared at the flames—our reflections shining back at us. “Both.”
“The ball should be forgotten after this. It wasn’t ideal for you to run off. But then you do not seem to be a fan of ideal scenarios,” Collin said, looking straight ahead.
Memories of Hal in the closet assaulted me. I closed my eyes. “It was stupid of me. I was stupid.”
“Emeline, we are in private. You may rage at me all you’d like.”
I searched for it, that inability to maintain myself around him. I couldn’t find it. Everything felt hollow.
“It won’t happen again,” I told him quietly.
“I am sure that won’t be the case,” Collin said, staring at my reflection.
I couldn’t return his quip—couldn’t fight. I stared at the glowing orange flames in the distance. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would the Reaper cause this much destruction?” I asked. There had to be a better way.
“Desperation has a way of causing things to get out of hand,” Collin said, shifting next to me.
I knew that—too well. “Is the Reaper desperate?”
Collin’s reflection adjusted his sleeves. “Yes. The Illum are figuring him out too quickly.”
“Because of you?” I asked. That was what he had been tasked with figuring out all those days ago.
Collin straightened his jacket, staring at the fire. “Yes, because of me.”
“Will the Illum retaliate?”
“The Illum survive because of their ability to retaliate.”
“More people will die.” It was a statement, not a question. Somewhere underground, when I handed over my innocence, I lost that na?veté as well.
There was no good or bad guy. There were no saviors, just varying shades of morally corrupt people with different lines in the sand.
“We are closer to war than ever before.”
I nodded, tired.
“I have already been gone for too long,” he said. “Your friend Lo made it back to her living quarters. I saw her when I left the area. That part of the city is still dark. You won’t hear from her or be able to reach her.”
Sapphires locked with my defective gaze in the glass. “Thank you.”
“I know you will demand to return to your living quarters, but I would like for you stay here tonight.” Collin stepped away from the window, as if he could leave quickly enough for me not to push back. To fight.
“All right.”
His brows raised. “There’s food and a scanner on the table. Everyone left. It is just you and Nora. Help yourself to anything that you need or want. What’s mine is yours. I will check in sometime tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay,” Collin repeated, assessing me, his puzzlement obvious. I could tell he had expected a fight. “Also, going forward, the ball, the running, the rule-breaking”—he tilted his head—“that ends now. Things will be very different.”
“Fine.”
“Well, good.” Collin walked toward the balcony, but he paused. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” he asked quietly. Concern thrummed in his usually powerful voice, and it threatened to break me. I couldn’t take his kindness. Not tonight.
“I am tired,” I told him. My soul felt too heavy. I was tired. Tired of everyone’s secrets. Tired of roles. Tired of pretending.
“I will be back tomorrow. You have my information on your Comm Device if you need anything . . .” He trailed off like he knew that even if I did, I wouldn’t reach out. “Right. Good night.”
“Do you ever just want a way out?” I stared at the outskirts of our city, beyond the fires, to the world the ancient humans had destroyed. I could barely make out the overgrowth beyond the smoke. In all my time in the clouds, I had never really looked.
“All the time,” Collin murmured. “Maybe then my mind would go quiet.”
I turned toward him fully. Collin held my broken gaze for a single breath before he turned to the balcony for a Pod.
I watched him leave until the thick smoke swallowed him and he disappeared into the night. I didn’t go looking for food. I crawled into the bed that was as soft as a cloud.
The sound of a door opening and shutting echoed through the empty quarters.
I closed my eyes against the stinging, refusing to let any tears fall.
When I went to sleep, I didn’t dream.
I AWOKE TO SUNLIGHT AND QUIET. MY COMM DEVICE DINGED as Nora walked in, wearing a simple cream dress and holding a cup of tea.
“I was coming to wake you. How are you?”
“Fine. You?”
“Horrible,” Nora told me, even her sad smile absent. “More so now that we’ve been summoned.”
“What do you mean, summoned?”
“All of the Elite have been. There’s a ball tonight. It’s mandatory for Elite to attend. The Illum will be there.”
“Is that normal for them to do something like this?” I asked.
“No,” she said, her expression grim. “It most certainly is not.”