I honestly have no idea what time of day it is anymore. I’m sure it won’t take me long to get used to a nocturnal lifestyle, and for my internal clock to swap night for day and day for night. I should probably be exhausted right now, but I’m too wired up to sleep yet. Besides, there’s still something I need to do.
Eventually, I hear the other tributes come down the hall. I count the doors as they close, until I’m certain that everybody is in their places.
Waiting is a skill I’ve had to learn, and I’ve gotten okay at it, but it isn’t something I like to do. I have to stop myself from pacing my room, because if someone outside suspects that someone in here isn’t sleeping, they’re going to be paying attention. Since I’ve got nothing left to do to occupy my hands, I lie down on the bed and mentally map out the palace instead. There are large gaps in my knowledge, of course, but between what I know of the exterior and what I’ve seen of the interior, I can make some educated guesses.
Once I’ve gone over every corridor I walked through in my mind’s eye at least twice, I sit up on the bed, cocking my head as I listen.
The palace has been silent for an hour at least, probably longer. By my best guess, the sun has been up for a couple hours by now—not that anyone down here would be able to tell.
Time to move.
I slide off the bed, then kick off my shoes. I’m still wearing the ridiculous peek-a-boo lace dress, but at least I can move in it. That’s all that matters, really.
My door doesn’t make a sound as I open it, and I let out a shaky breath. I pad down the hall, eyes and ears open for any whisper of movement, and stop near the end, where it intersects another corridor. A guard decked out in his punk bondage regalia is pacing away from me. I wait, controlling my heart and my breath.
He turns right, heading down the intersecting hallway. I dart forward on bare feet and speed in the opposite direction, whipping around a corner—eyes first, of course, to make sure it’s clear—then stop short. The palace lights have been dimmed, giving me lots of shadows to work with, but shadows alone don’t matter too much. It’s the contrast I need. Even vampire eyes need a second to adjust. I’ve gotten really good at using that to my advantage.
There aren’t as many guards patrolling the corridors as I would have expected. The one I dodged in the female tribute wing seems to be the only one posted there. There are two by the main staircase that Connor had so much trouble finding, but they’re both bored and chatting. It’s a breeze to sneak around behind them and duck through the passage under the stairs. I consider a surprise attack but manage to talk myself out of it. Missing guards are sure to raise alarms, and I can’t let that happen.
I’m not going to assume anything, but I suspect if there’s only one vampire guarding the girls, it’s likely that there’s only one guarding the guys. Once I’m out of earshot of the stairs, the palace around me grows deathly quiet. I take a few turns that lead to places I definitely don’t want to be and have to double-back, but eventually I come to an area which is a mirror image of the female tributes’ quarters. There’s a guard leaning against one wall, scrolling through his phone. It would look odd to me if I hadn’t just spent so much time with the surprisingly contemporary Connor. The weirdest part is that he manages to get reception down here, honestly.
I wait, still and silent, in a dark alcove. Eventually the guard sighs, stretches, and mumbles something under his breath. I have no idea what the words are, but a second later, he turns and heads down the hallway. Maybe he’s supposed to make the rounds every once in a while.
Good. Gives me the opening I need.
I creep down the hallway, as silent as a human can possibly be. Identical doors line each wall, and I realize that there’s one obstacle I didn’t consider before I got this far. How the hell am I supposed to know which door is Nathan’s? I stop moving and press my body against one wall, listening as hard as I can. Nothing. I take a few steps down, then press against the other wall. Still nothing.
Working my way slowly down the hall, I keep my ears open for any sound, any hint that will help me find Nathan. I hear the sound of a man crying, and for a second, hope rises inside me. But the voice is too rough to belong to my brother. Behind another door, someone sounds like he’s muttering in his sleep, and in another room, I’m pretty sure a guy is jacking off.
Then I pick up a vague noise coming from a room a little farther down. I creep toward it and listen at the door.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” a voice mutters.
My heart leaps. Nathan.
I tap on the door lightly, in our special rhythm—the one our mom always used to use when she woke us up for school. There’s a lot I’ve forgotten about her over the years, but I remember that, and I hope like hell that he does too.
His voice cuts off cold, and I hear light footsteps on the floor before his door flies open. Nathan reaches out and drags me inside, closing the door behind me and crushing me in a giant, bony hug.
I’m so goddamn pissed at him. So frustrated that he let himself get this far into the shit, furious at him for not reaching out to me before it was too late. But he’s here, he’s whole,
