Page 86 of Cerulean Truth
The notion of her being protected by someone else was not only laughable but also…
"I want to," I spoke up louder.
Maria nodded. "Then so it will be. We will keep this between us three. Maurice and I will focus on investigating the three Radicals in the Bastille; I had them cleaned up, and you'll conduct the interrogations in the morning. Your concern from then on is Emma. We'll meet up covertly as much as we can to inform each other of the progress, and for now," she held up a hand to silence Maurice, who was getting ready to object, "we'll keep this from the rest of the Council. In time, we'll tell them once we know more, and are sure we do not have a leak."
It was clear the conversation wasn't over, but as Emma made a sound of restlessness, the Maumars stood up swiftly and left the room without another word.
I stayed all night in her room, watching over her as she slept.
PART 2
A MONTH AND A HALF LATER
TWENTY-THREE
EMMA
“NOOOOOOOOO!”
I woke up screaming. Again.
My heart was pounding against my chest, sweat soaked my body, my breath came in ragged gasps, and my hands trembled with residual fear.
“It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real,” I muttered, over and over again, desperately clinging to the reassurance that it was just a nightmare. I tried to discern anything through the darkness, which indicated it was still the middle of the night. Glancing at my Nexus, the yellow drops confirmed my suspicion: one thirty in the morning.
I sighed heavily, the weight of six weeks of night terrors bearing down on me, leaving me properly and effectivelyexhausted.
My eyes threatened to close again, but I forced myself to push back against the encroaching drowsiness. The last thing I wanted was to slip back into that same haunting dream. I had to remain awake for just a few more minutes, until the risk had passed.
Drawing in deep breaths, I focused on counting the agonizing minutes, determined to keep my eyes open. Until the heaviness of my lids won out against my fear and I fell back asleep.
I woke up at five thirty a.m.
Crap. I had overslept. Again.
I had never been a stranger to early hours, I’d gotten my fair share of short nights during all my internships at those law firms, but James’s schedule wasinsane.
He had me starting in the training room at six in the morning.Six. Which meant I had to get up at five every morning in order to look presentable, as James seemed to forget not everyone could pull off his “just out of bed”-look.
Darn it, I was going to have to run to make it in time.
As I ran down the stairs toward the connection-floors, still not able to translate myself a portal (or anything else for that matter), I couldn’t shake the feeling I was forgetting something.
Oh well, no time to dwell on it now.
I arrived at the training room all but ten minutes late, and short of breath.
“You’re late.” He grunted, his ever-so-charming mood shining through, “Where were you?”
I blinked. Where the heck did he think I was?
“Harvesting organs.” I deadpanned, dropping my bag with a dramatic sigh. He ignored my sarcasm, and I ignored his ignorance.Then why ask?
“Where’s your Skindo? I asked you to bring it along,” he pressed on.
Double crap.I knew I’d forgotten something.
“It’s in my dorm,” I replied sullenly, not exactly thrilled about the impending James-tornado.
