Page 126 of Feathers of Ash and Hope
A knock on the door makes us both freeze. I rest my brow against Ara’s, willing whoever is in front of this door to go away.
The knock sounds again, and I groan.
“Go away, I’m sleeping,” I shout, hoping the person will take the hint.
“Centurion, open the door,” a male voice demands. At the formal address, Ara and I look at each other in shock.
“Fuck,” I hiss, setting Ara down gently. I grab my shirt, pulling it over my head, and Ara dives for hers.
The knock sounds again.
“Um…one minute,” I shout, looking frantically for a place to hide Ara, but there is nothing here to hide.
I go over to the door and take one last look at Ara, checking that she isn’t visible from the doorway. Then I place a shield of air right behind me, guarding her and muffling every sound she makes beforeI slip out the door, closing it behind me.
I come face-to-face with Deputy Commander Foley.
Despite probably looking like a mess, I don the cool mask I’m used to wearing.
“Yes, sir?” I say, keeping still while his gaze wanders over me.
“Did I interrupt something?” He smirks, and my blood runs cold.
“I was sleeping, sir.”
“Are you sure you weren’t doing something …” He leers at the door behind me, and the thought of him looking at Ara like that has my temper flaring up.“Or should I say someone else?” He looks back at me, and maybe he sees the threat in my eyes because he takes a step back.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”
“So you want to tell me I won’t find anyone when I inspect your room right now?”
“No one, sir,” I bluff.
“Very well, then you won’t mind me having a look, will you?” He smiles, his eyes full of triumph.
Fuck. He knows.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
ARA
I situp on the roof, braiding my hair up and straightening myself out. The city is a rug of glittering lights beneath me, and the wind cools my heated cheeks. I send my thanks to Tempos, the god of weather and wind, that it isn’t raining. I hightailed it out of Tate’s window as soon as he was through the door.
That was close, too close.
If I wait until Tate is alone, would he be interested in resuming where we left off? Or will he send me off like a lost puppy because his conscience got the better of him again? Does he even deem whatever this is between us worth the trouble?
I bite my lip. He affects me in ways no one ever has, and I’m not used to overthinking every little decision. It drives me nuts.
It’s only three days until Picking, and tomorrow will be rough. Maybe I should just…wait it out? Thinking of all the things I haven’t told Tate yet makes that option very appealing.
Coward.
I’ll concentrate on tomorrow first. My brother’s visit will make it an…interesting day. I make my way along the roof and down the path I have taken once before. My landing is more graceful this time, so I knock softly against Joel’s window minutes later.
“Again? Are you serious?” Joel scowls at me when he opens the window. He hauls me in before I have the chance to move myself. “Look at you.” He gestures at me, and I look down at myself. My clothes are rumpled, my braid surely anything but neat, and I push a few loose strands behind my ears. My lips still tingle and are surely swollen from Tate’s kisses.
