Page 99 of Winterveil

Trapped in this illusory hellscape, Julian had evidently lost track of time. “Then we should celebrate. Too bad all the liquor went to waste.”

If Crispin recognized the sarcasm in his voice, he didn’t acknowledge it. The confused frown on his face remained.

“I’ve never had anything to drink,” he said. He tipped his head. “What does it taste like?”

“It’s not about the taste,” Julian said. The whole conversation had taken on a bizarre, dreamlike quality. “Deckard has clearly neglected your education.”

“I would try it,” Crispin ventured, his voice growing quiet, “if I had the chance.”

Julian regarded him again, this time with the benefit of his glasses. He looked timid, innocent. It was hard to reconcile that with what they had done in the other room, not even twenty-four hours ago.

“Well, if I survive this, and if Deckard ever loosens his leash, we can meet up in the real world and I’ll be sure to thoroughly corrupt you.” Julian reached for the clothes on his dresser. “For now, I’ll settle for the thrill of solving more inane riddles.”

With that, he retreated to the bathroom to change. He could sense Crispin’s gaze burning him through the door. His skin prickled, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. In fact, he felt an idle tug of something that inexplicably approached fondness. Or maybe it was just survival instinct kicking in. His brief experience in politics had taught him not to spurn a valuable ally.

Thirty-Three

Spring 2037

Camp Peary, Virginia

Music was already playing in the great room when Nadiya descended the next morning. Sunlight, false as it was, poured through the windows and doused everything in the lodge in gold. Or maybe it was the buoyant feeling in her chest that made everything seem vivid and luminous.

She had left Giselle sleeping upstairs, her hair fanned out across the pillow. It had been hard for Nadiya to pull her gaze away. She wanted to keep looking at the gentle flush of Giselle’s cheeks, the delicate bow of her lips. She wanted to keep thinking about how they had felt against her mouth.

The person she had been last night was vulnerable with longing and reckless with desire.

“I didn’t think I would ever get a chance to do that,” Giselle whispered, when they had broken the kiss.

“Me either,” Nadiya admitted.

The corner of Giselle’s mouth quivered. “I was willing to wait, though.”

“How long?”

“However long it took, I think.”

That bubbly, joyous feeling soared up in her.

Now the music led her to the small alcove near the kitchen, where Nadiya was not surprised to find Klaudia already awake. She hadn’t returned to their room last night, as far as Nadiya knew, and judging from the blankets folded neatly on the couch, Nadiya suspected that Klaudia had slept there.

In the alcove, Klaudia sat at the head of the table, which was strewn from end to end with papers and books. The contents of every folder had been removed and arranged into piles. Of the books that were lying open, Nadiya could see paragraphs that had been marked and quotes that had been underlined. It looked half like the work of a master statesman and half, she had to admit, like the work of a madwoman.

“Did you sleep at all?” Nadiya asked.

“For a bit,” Klaudia replied, without looking up.

“You’re going to keel over from exhaustion at some point.”

“Unlikely.”

Nadiya lowered herself into the chair beside Klaudia’s. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For rescuing us. I’m sorry that I messed up.”

Finally, Klaudia lifted her head.

“Deckard is a liar,” she said. “You didn’t make some fatal error. He was just looking for a reason.”

The baldness of her words surprised Nadiya. “How do you know?”