He stood, gathered their trays, and walked away. He set everything on an open ledge in the wall and walked to the archway to wait for her to join him. Then he moved off again.
She followed, glowering at the back of his head as they continued down the halls, sometimes skirting groups of boys. The boys always stared. She stared back, her animosity growing. They made several turns and wound their way deeper into the school.
He acted like this was all her fault. Had she asked them to come to her home and force her away? Had she asked to be lied to, tricked into going into the city? Had she asked to be tortured? Made to watch her mother be killed in front of her? A dry sob of rage and grief hiccupped in her throat before she forced it back down.
Reyes’s head moved at the sound, almost a concerned response. He stopped before a door to palm the security box. He turned the handle and moved inside slightly, stepping to the side for her.
Reyes tilted his head, trying to catch her eye.
She entered, brushing past him to stand in the middle of the room, trying to pretend he wasn’t behind her. She didn’t see the spare furniture in the front, the table, pair of chairs, book shelves. She hugged herself. Items spread symmetrically on a low table near the bed tucked at the rear caught her attention. Small earthenware pots had been placed carefully in a line with tiny twig brushes fanned out before them. She stalked over. They were her earthenware pots, her powders and dyes. She turned to step up on the bed and walk over it to a low wooden chest on the other side. She flipped back the top. Her clothes. Her hand-knit curtains. She drew in a deep breath. This was his surprise?
Clearly it was meant to make her happy. Slip back in, beneath the watch of other Council agents, no doubt, and bring her some of the bits and pieces that made up her home. It was a sudden, glaring reminder of all she had lost—no, of all they had taken from her. What they had done, what he had done, was no less than tear her away from the life she had built for herself, and because of it, she’d lost more than just things. She’d lost her mother.
She turned toward him, head down, gaze lowered. She spoke, voice low and tight. “Is this supposed to appease me?”
He pushed away from the door and moved to the middle of the room. “Please you? Yeah, I guess. I wasn’t really—”
“No! Not please me!” Her voice snapped out across at him like a whip. “Appease me. Is this supposed to appease me?”
Wisely, he chose not to answer this time.
“You brought my stuff. Great. Awesome. Thank you. Thank you so much for stealing back all this stuff. Never mind that I can never go back. Never mind the fact that you destroyed my life!”
“I destroyed your life? Because you lost access to a building?” A bare second later, he must have remembered she had lost much more. His mouth snapped shut.
“It wasn’t a building! It was my home! She was my mother!” She stared at him.
He honestly believed he’d done a good thing for her. He expected her to be grateful. Happy, even. Her home was gone. She couldn’t go back. Her mother was dead. This man had no capacity to understand either loss. How could he when he’d been made a Ward at five?
Just like that, her rage snuffed out. She deflated.
“Of course you don’t understand what I’ve lost,” she told him quietly, “because you’ve never had a home or a family. You’ve never built anything good. You’ve only been used to destroy. You’re not a person. You’re a tool.”
And haven’t you come here to be made into the same thing?
In spite of the mask, she could see the pain that flared in his eyes, quicksilver and then gone. Good. I hope it hurts.
Reyes opened his mouth to respond, but Lena held up her hand.
“Don’t. Just leave me alone.” She shook her head. “There’s nothing you can do or say to please me or appease me. So, please…go.”
He went.
A long time after he left, closing the door behind himself with quiet control, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing. She clasped her shaking hands together. When that didn’t stop the violent trembling, she tucked them between her knees. She wished she could cry. But she had nothing left, not even tears.
Chapter 12
Alex didn’t wait for Thom’s assistant to announce him.
“Is he alone?” He bit the words out as he strode through the outer area. At the startled assent, he snapped a nod back, and went in, closing out the office behind himself. He leaned his head against the door for a millisecond and then stalked over to stand in front of the desk, hands fisted in his pockets.
“That is not a happy face.” Thomas’s voice was guarded. He wouldn’t want to be disappointed. Not about this. He tossed the thin sheet he’d been reading back down onto the surface of his desk. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing.” Alex answered. “She’s here, safe, and installed in her quarters.”
“Then why are you so pissed?”
His brows dipped into a brief frown. “I’m not.”
Sure you’re not.