Page 30 of Xantera
When I reach her, I smile. “Good evening.”
She looks down at me from the second step, but I think I’d be taller than her if she stepped down. “Enjoying the sunset?”
Panic surges into my throat. Is she testing me? Hardly any light ever filters past the overhanging eaves of the complexes, so the strip of sunset that does make it through is as thin and sharp as the rapier at her side.
“Yes, it’s quite beautiful,” I reply, turning my face upward at the visible slice of sky. “On the way back from the Blood Moon Palace, I decided to take the long way to get some fresh air and exercise, and I ended up visiting a friend.”
“The perfect Sunday,” Malcolm adds.
I forgot he was there.
I blink through my nerves and plaster on another smile. “It was.” Turning to the sentry, I offer her what is my illusion of choice. “Please, come in.”
She steps across the threshold without bothering to wait for Malcolm to step back, so it becomes a weird shuffle of feet and Malcolm muttering “Sorry” multiple times.
I follow like she’s invited me into my own home, avoiding Malcolm’s concerned gaze as he closes the door behind me.
She walks confidently over to the chair on the opposite side of the room before sitting. Her hand sweeps over the remaining seats, and she encourages us to sit with a pleasant, “Please.”
I wonder if the Guardians sent a woman to make me feel less on edge, less threatened. Because she seems almost jovial.
Her wide, brown eyes sparkle in the low light, and her cheekbones are dusted with a naturally rosy hue. It’s a face you want to spill your secrets to—a face you want to like you.
But I don’t let my guard down as I sit, and Malcolm sits beside me like a dutiful partner before the sentry’s eyes bounce between us, waiting.
Waiting.
We’re all waiting.
The objects in my pocket feel like lead pressing down on my thigh. I resist the urge to look down to check if they’re bulging underneath my cloak. The Guardians can’t possibly know that I’ve taken them. Can they?
“Rosalyn,” she says finally. The sentry has a name.
Why does this keep shocking me? She must have a partner, children, a life of her own within the Wall.
Does Lucan have the same outside the Wall?
“Rosalyn,” Malcolm and I repeat in harmony, then my voice continues alone. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you.” She leans back against the chair and rests her forearms on both armrests. “I’m here because we had a healer report an argument between you and your fellow co-worker.”
My brain spins to catch on then tries to right itself. “Gaia?”
“Yes. Gaia. Can you tell me what your argument was about?”
Malcolm shifts, running his palms down his pants, as my own palms start to sweat.
It’s a trap question, one I don’t know if Gaia’s already given an answer to. All I know is that glaring man in the locker room definitely reported us for slightly raised voices.
A pain pulses in my temple, but if I take too long to answer, it will be even more suspicious. “It was over a patient,” I start.No, it wasn’t. It was over me begging her to access information about a traitor, one whose housing unit I just stole several illegal objects from.I clear my throat. “We disagreed on whether the patient should be released or not.”
Rosalyn squints at me. “Did you raise your voice?”
“No,” I assure her. “It was a professional discussion, at most.”
“I see.” Leaning back, she nods. “The patient?”
“Odette, a young girl.”
