Page 26 of Storm Caller

Percy brings us to a stop before a guard approaches and peers into the jeep. He clearly recognizes everyone until his gaze falls on me.

“Who’s this?” he asks, his voice low, gruff.

“A special guest of First Lieutenant Athira,” Percy says, and it takes me several moments to process the fact that he’s referring to Rook.

First Lieutenant. Of course. Another soldier of the Veil. An officer, in fact.

The guard huffs and then waves us through. Percy throws the jeep into gear, and we trundle past the gates. Slowly, we approach the towering opening carved in the side of the mountain, shadows enveloping us as we enter a vast cavern. Inside, we find a hive of activity. Several more vehicles are parked neatly in rows along one edge, their sharp corners glinting in the soft light as dozens of people move about.

I can’t help the way my jaw drops as I take it all in. Every time I think I’ve seen the last new thing, something else happens to alter my perception all over again. This is organized. This is civilization. It might not look anything like New Manhattan, but this is life.

A snort draws my attention to Calliope, who’s watching me with a disdainful look. “She really can’t believe we aren’t eating out of ditches and walking on our knuckles, can she?”

I snap my mouth shut, mortified to be caught having those exact thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell them how stupid I feel. How utterly confused and angry I am. I’m burning with the need to know why we were lied to, why the truth was deemed too dangerous for us.

Percy brings the vehicle to a stop in a line of other jeeps and cuts the engine. Immediately, Fisher and Calliope hop out. I inhale a fortifying breath, suddenly terrified of leaving the safety of this warm enclosure. It feels like there are two versions of me. The one I am right now sitting in this seat, and the one I’ll become as soon as I enter Cloudspire.

I’m afraid that neither version will recognize itself ever again.

“Poet?” comes a soft voice. It’s Rook. He’s standing outside the jeep, waiting for me. He holds out his hand, and I reach for it, letting him pull me across the seat.

When my feet hit the ground, I keep my balance for a fleeting second, but my knees wobble, and I stumble. Rook catches me, his arms wrapping around me, his hands settling at the small of my back. I flatten my palms against his chest and lean into him, my forehead pressing against the ridge of his collarbone as he holds me for a moment. I feel his nose bury into my hair, and my body craves the comfort of his arms and that safety I found in our dorm room at Amery.

“Ready?” Rook asks. “I can’t wait for my mom and dad to meet you.”

My head snaps up as he tips his head with a hopeful smile.

Oh shit.

His parents.

8

All day, I knew we were headed toward them. I know they’re the ones who run this place. But the way Rook just said those words . . . The way he’s looking at me now suddenly makes this entire moment shift into something with much higher stakes.

His parents. His family.

He lied to me.

But then he took a knife for me. Got me out of the city safely. If the Extinguishers had captured me, I would already be dead.

I’ve been trying to convince myself I wasn’t really in love with Rook Athira, but maybe that was never true.

Either way, I’m being pulled along, not entirely voluntarily, but there’s also nowhere else for me to go.

Tunnels have been carved into the mountain. We’re surrounded by natural rock, but everything has been made more accessible with metal and tiled floors and sometimes actual walls. Lights glow overhead, set into the ceilings.

We pass through a pair of doors that hiss open at our approach. Rook and I walk in front, with Fisher and Calliope marching behind us.

Upon arriving at the encampment, it became apparent that a certain established hierarchy existed. Based on our capture, I assumed it put Rook under Fisher. But now I think Rook outranks everyone here. That much is evident as he strides down the hall with his head up and his shoulders back, while several people nod and salute as he passes.

He checks in with me, his mouth pressing together, a million thoughts written in his eyes. I look away, noticing two people quickly approaching us.

Immediately, I know who they are.

High Commander Summit Athira bears a striking resemblance to his son. Incredibly handsome, with tanned skin and dark hair peppered with the tiniest hints of silver. Brown eyes with the finest of lines surrounding them. A broad, tall frame dressed in a black T-shirt and dark cargo pants. The grin that splits his face is so like Rook’s, it makes my breath catch.