Page 82 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

“And Cassius is her squadron leader,”Daeva comments. She’s right.

“I will have to have a word with him about that”

“She will come at you swinging if she gets wind of that,”Daeva adds her opinion and sounds gleeful. I guess she isn’t over me telling her to shut up. “She is fierce,”she continues.Together with her statement,she has guts, a few days earlier,this is the most approval Daeva has ever shown for anyone before.

I will stay away from Ara, I vow to myself.

I’m a risk for her, and if I let her in, she’s a weakness I can’t afford. I know what happens to people I care for, and her being so…reckless on top of that. I shake my head. I can’t let her close.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

ARA

Dammit.I shouldn’t have crept out again today. Two days in a row is madness, especially after running into Tate yesterday. I push against my window, but it still doesn't budge. Someone locked it, or it got stuck when it slammed shut earlier. I shift my weight, trying to press my body close to the wall.

This is the perfect ending to a shitty day. Tate avoided me all day like I had the plague. Disappointment and hurt course through me, remembering how he backtracked as soon as he saw me sitting in our place in the library. Our place…gods, I’m pathetic. He doesn’t know I saw…well, felt him, but his magic signature gave him away.

The guard will come around the corner any second now. I hold my breath, fitting as much of my body into the nook of the window as I can. I’ll have to sit it out until he’s gone again.

My face is pressed against the windowpane, but there is no movement inside. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or put out about it. It would depend on who was moving, I guess.

Calix has been in a mood today, too, and even Mariel seemed subdued and monosyllabic, both acting like I should know what was going on when I asked about it.

I listen to the guard’s footsteps, bracing for shouts of alarm and hurried steps, but nothing comes.

I just had to see Sloan before we head out. I can’t leave her worrying about me, especially since there is the chance that I won’t come back.

Now I just have to get back inside without being caught. The drizzle of rain and the wind make the situation even more uncomfortable. I go through all my options, but really, I can only think of two: knock on this window and hope it’s Calix who wakes up and not someone else or climb to Joel's window.

Joel has his room to himself. Joel, it is.

He will be furious, of that I am sure, but he won't rat me out. I can weather a bit of screaming if it means getting into the warmth.

He is up on the third floor, so instead of going back down, I climb up to the roof. I lie down, making myself as flat as I can so I’m less visible. My front gets soaked by the wet roof, and I grimace.

I lean over the edge and search for the window that has to be Joel’s.

I walk over the roof until I am right above it, only to realize there is no rain pipe close to it. I lean over again. I can get down at the next window over. There is no light, so whoever’s room that is hopefully sleeps. With the windowsill as a foothold, I should be able to jump to his.

As soon as my plan is formed and the guard wanders out of sight, I set it into motion.

I hold my breath as I drop in front of the first window. I wear my uniform, and while the gray is great for hiding in the dark, I’m not naive enough to think my silhouette isn’t a clear outline against the moonlit sky. No one stirs, and I pause only long enough to find my balance; then I jump.

In one fluid motion, I sail through the air, my feet touching Joel's windowsill. My right foot slips since the wet stone is slippery. I curse and thrust out my arms for balance, knocking into the window with a crash. My fingers grasp the frame, and I barely manage to steady myself before the window flies open, knocking my balance out of whack again.

Strong fingers grip my wrists before I slip over the edge, and I’m hauled inside by an at-first stunned and then furious-looking Joel.

“You gotta be kidding me!” He looks mad enough to spit fire.

“Sorry to bother you.” I send him a sunny smile.

“What is wrong with you?” He still holds my arms but seems torn between pulling me into him and pushing me away in anger.

“Oh, I'm fine. No worries.”

“Fine? Fine! I really should…” His volume rises with every word.

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