War Storm (Red Queen) - Victoria Aveyard Page 0,68

money to me?” she replies.

As they laugh, grins wide, I press my hand to the lock of the door. With my other hand, I flick open the canteen holstered at my side. Under Sentinel Haven’s power, I can’t see what I’m doing, and so must rely on touch. It complicates things, but only enough to slow me down.

The water swirls around my wrist, kissing my skin, before worming between my fingers and into the keyhole. It fits to the mechanism, filling the space as I exhale. Through the water, I press along the tumblers of the lock, touching each one, forming a key of my own making.

I nudge sideways with my foot, reaching for Jidansa. She nudges back.

Some yards away, a tree branch cracks under her ability, crashing to the paved stone. Perfectly masking the sound of a turning lock.

“Raiders in the city?” the female guard says, her laughter replaced by panic.

“No bet,” the man responds.

They rush to investigate, leaving us to slip into the observatory undetected, unseen, unlooked for.

Wary of any kind of security cameras, Sentinel Haven keeps us shrouded as we enter.

“Laeron, through,” whispers the Nortan nymph. We sound off in turn, unable to see one another.

“Jidansa.”

“Rydal.”

“Niro.”

“Iris.”

“Delos,” says the Haven Sentinel.

Grinning, I ease the door shut behind us.

Infiltrate the observatory prison. Done.

I don’t allow myself a sigh of relief. That won’t come until I’m on the ground at home, with Bracken’s children safely returned. And even that is premature. As Mother would say, no use sleeping while there are wars to be won. And we certainly have a war exploding around us.

Jidansa’s footsteps echo slightly as she rounds the room. Her search takes several long minutes, enough to put us on edge. The tension ratchets with the passing seconds, until she returns. I can hear the smile in her voice.

“They’re truly foolish,” she says. “No cameras. Not one.”

“How can that be?” I hear Laeron mutter.

My teeth grit together. “Perhaps they don’t want a record of the children being here,” I reply, giving the only explanation I can think of. It shouldn’t affect me. Horrible things are done in war, even to Silvers. I know that firsthand. “Or what they’ve done to them.”

The realization settles over us, another curtain of dread upon the pile.

I raise my chin, smoothing my unseen hair, tucking pieces behind my ears. “Sentinel Haven, you may cease.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I can hear him bow, and then I see it.

We bleed into vision, all of us at once, as if a window has suddenly been wiped clean. Most look at their own limbs, examining themselves, but Niro is staring at me. He looks paler in the dim light filtering through the glass dome, which dapples his face in sickly green. His gaze feels like a challenge or perhaps an amusement. I dislike either option.

“This way,” I tell them, focusing on the task at hand. They fall into line, even Niro, and I’m glad to have Jidansa on my heels. The Sentinel too. I’m the queen of Norta, and he is sworn to protect me as well as Maven.

We round a massive telescope, pointed at the domed roof, made of tubes of brass and glass fixtures. A waste, I think. The stars are well beyond the reach of anyone, even Silvers. They are the realm of gods and gods alone. They are not for us to fathom. To try is to squander time, resources, and energy.

Several chambers lead off the round central room, but we ignore them. Instead I cross the floor, searching the marble beneath my feet for visible cracks. I don’t expect any, and loose the canteen again. With a nod at Laeron, I have him do the same.

Our water spreads around our feet and across the marble, expanding to the thinnest of covers. It prods and puddles over the stone, working into grooves and seams between the slabs.

“Here,” Laeron says, taking a few steps toward the wall. His own water bunches up like a giant droplet. As I approach, squinting, I can see tiny air bubbles trailing up through the water.

There is open space below.

Jidansa makes quick work of the slab, drawing it up and out of place with a wave of her fingers. Beneath, darkness looms, but not blackness. There are lights in the chamber below the observatory, somewhere farther down the passage. Enough to see by, but not to bleed through the tiny seams of the trapdoor slab.

Stairs lead downward, as if beckoning.

Rydal goes first, according to our plan, with Niro behind,