“Because you may have to actually acknowledge how freaking hot those three men are?” Fly rolls his eyes and drops to the ground, Clare taking the spot next to them.
“I’m not hanging around to admire them,” I hiss. “It’s what they want.”
Fly leans back on the grass, making himself comfortable. “I, on the other hand, am more than happy to oblige them by sitting and admiring the eye candy, especially as there is nothing else to do.”
“Everyone else is here,” Clare points out.
I spin my gaze around.
She’s right, everyone elseishere. Which means …
“I’m going back to my room,” I blurt out, sprinting away before either can question me.
I race back into the campus, along the cobbled pathways until I reach my destination.
Nyneve Tower.
Amelia’s tower.
I tip my head back and peer up.
The lights are all out. Hopefully that means no one is in.
Leaning my weight against the door, I step inside and make my way up the staircase. There is no one to stop me this time and I make my way all the way up to room nine without meeting another soul.
I stare at the door. It’s plain. Nothing special. The number xx is embossed on the wood along with the new occupant’s name.
I reach out and touch the letters, imagining her name there instead.
How many times did she stand just here, unlocking her door, stepping inside?
I glance down at my feet, imagining hers positioned right here.
When I try the handle, the door is locked, of course. But it was worth a try. I give it a shove with my shoulder just in case I get lucky and it gives way. It doesn’t.
I yank a pin from my hair and drop to my knees, examining the lock. When you’ve been locked inside a room as often as I have, with nothing to do but attempt to escape, eventually you learn to pick a lock. It’s not as easy as people would have you believe. Of course, the more often you try, the more you practice, the easier it becomes. These days it doesn’t take me long and this lock proves to be a simple one. I have it clicking open in less than half an hour, listening out the entire time for anyone returning back to the tower. I got caught out yesterday. I won’t be so stupid again.
The room is dark when the door swings open and I stand frozen.
Stars knows why, but my skin prickles. This was the last place she lived. Her final home. It seems almost sacred.
I take a deep breath in, square my shoulders and step inside.
Immediately I’m disappointed. A bed, a wardrobe and a desk. The new occupant’s possessions scattered about – some clothes on the bed, books piled by the desk, shoes lined up along the wall.
There’s nothing special about it at all. It’s just an ordinary room.
Really, I knew it would be and yet I’d hoped to feel something. What exactly? Her presence? Her spirit?
I miss her so damn much. I’m so desperate to see her one last time. To talk to her again. To hold her hand. And I never ever will.
A sob bubbles up in my throat, but I swallow it back down, blink away the tears and go to investigate more closely.
There are no secret panels in the wardrobe. No loose bit of carpet. Nothing under the bed. I check everything twice – just to be sure.
Nothing.
I slump down on the desk chair, more disappointed than I care to admit. This was my only real lead. I have nothing else.