Why she wasn't allowed to go out with her friends on her birthday like any other normal sixteen-year-old girl.
She wouldn't have felt the urge to sneak off. Or, even if she did, she would have fought it, known that she wasn't safe enough.
And, yeah, maybe she would hate us for it, for exposing her to these things that denied her a normal adolescence, that made her a target of ugly deeds by wicked hands.
She could hate us.
She could scream and bemoan her fate.
But at least she would have been safe.
Home.
In her bed at night.
Smart-mouthing us, using that brain of hers like a whip, leaving scars in the wake.
But here.
With me.
Nowhere near V.
And her men.
And her evil intentions.
What was the point in taking Ferryn?
To fuel another bloody war?
To what end?
There was that thing about a reunion, my mind reminded me. She had said something about wanting to see my children and me.
But why?
My body stopped its frantic pacing, my forehead pressing into the cool metal wall as I let out a defeated breath.
Maybe why was the wrong question.
Maybe there was no why.
At least not one that made sense.
Maybe there was just power and insanity.
Just actions without reasons.
Just meaningless evil.
I turned, my back slamming against the wall, sliding down until my ass hit the floor, cold and solid, like I needed the grounding, because I was pretty sure I was sinking.
It sure felt like I was falling.
Further and further.
The night faded into morning before someone looked for me.
"You need to stop this," Lo demanded, voice steel, forcing me to bend to its will.
My own was gossamer, weak and hole-filled when my mouth opened. "V has my daughter."
"And sitting here is doing nothing to help that situation."
She didn't deny it, I realized.
That it was V.
Maybe they knew now, what I had known for the better part of a day.
"There's nothing I can do. I don't have what you and Janie and..."
"You have children who are wondering why their sister didn't come home to torment them last night, who didn't get good night wishes. You have a man who is going on thirty hours without sleep, who needs not to have to worry about you on top of it all. So get your ass off the floor, and get to work. You don't get the luxury of falling apart now."
Lo was a soft friend, an ever-present shoulder, an open ear, an overflowing heart.
But this wasn't Lo, my old friend.
This was Lo, badass leader of Hailstorm telling me to stop believing in my weakness and find and use my strengths.
Wife.
Mother.
The glue that held my family together.
It wasn't as flashy as computer hacking or bomb-building or head-bashing, but it was every bit as important.
So I got my ass off that floor.
I met my boys for a late breakfast.
I assured them that Ferryn was fine while reminding myself that some lies were kind, were for the greater good.
I called my husband for an update, putting grit and determination in my voice, even if it was just for show, even if I was nothing but ash and ember inside.
This was my part to play.
For now.FIVEFerrynI think a day passed.
It was hard to keep track, to count when the pain and exhaustion made my eyelids heavy, blinking closed without permission, making me wake with a start seconds or minutes or hours later. I had no idea.
The one window, situated over the woman currently racked with chills on the floor, withdrawing from whatever cocktail that had been in her system, was blackened from the outside, not even a hint of sunlight or moonlight to suggest what time of day it was, how much time I had lost already.
My neck ached from hanging to the side when sleep stubbornly claimed my consciousness. It was a constant sharp twinge when I tried to turn my head. But it paled in comparison to the pain in my head, like my skull had been wrenched open, though I knew from inspecting the spot with weak fingers that it was unlikely. Just bruised and miserable with dried blood caking to the hair around it. My face felt swollen, gums tender, and a back molar wiggly. Wiggly, but not hurting aside from when it pulled against the thin nerve it was still attached by.
But, all in all, I was okay.
Okay enough that I needed to stop thinking about it. I needed to focus on other things. I needed to force my numb legs to hold my weight so I could make my way to the communal toilet, maybe see if there was something there I could bash off, hide down my bodice for the next time someone came down.
No one had.
And it was both a relief and a source of never-ending tension.
Because they would come. Eventually. And a part of me just wanted that part to be over with, so I stopped spinning possible scenarios in my head about what might happen when they did.