The Dazzling Heights

The hoverboard started toward the hotel, moving more slowly now, to keep Leda from falling off. Watt took off running in its wake.

“You really care about her, don’t you?” Nadia asked him, oddly subdued.

Yeah. Watt couldn’t believe it had taken a life-or-death crisis for him to realize it, but he really did.

AVERY

AVERY HAD LEFT the party. She’d returned to the hotel, but once she walked in the enormous entrance, all curved, carved stone and glittering tiles, she’d found that she wasn’t ready to go upstairs. She didn’t want to face her cold, solitary bed; a bed that would never have Atlas in it again. The prospect of a life without him stretched before her, empty and bleak and impossibly, torturously long.

She wandered over to the dramatic windows of the hotel lobby and stood there awhile, just looking out into the endless black of the sky. The stars were so bright here. She wondered when the next round of fireworks would begin.

An arrangement of mood-flowers on a table near her began to glow; stupid things never worked, Avery thought, because they were flashing a hot angry red when all she really felt was hollow. She kept working on her drink without registering what it was. Behind her she occasionally heard voices, the click of heels on the polished floor as people moved through the lobby on the way to their rooms.

Everything that had happened tonight—learning the truth about Calliope, confronting her, and then, worst of all, the way Atlas had told her good-bye, with that aching finality in his voice—had all left Avery strangely empty. Her mind had become a swirling, churning vortex with no bottom. She took another sip of her drink, hoping it would fill the void that threatened to break her in two.

“Avery?”

“Hey,” she said, not even turning at the sound of Cord’s voice. She just kept looking at the dark stretch of water below them, the bridges spanning the space, dotted with lights. Party guests moved back and forth across in a dance of scattered shadows. She wondered how many of them were with the person they loved tonight—and how many of them were alone, like her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. She knew what he meant. What was she doing standing by herself, in the dim light of the window?

“Where have you been all night?” she asked, since she hadn’t seen much of him.

Cord shrugged. “I only just got here. Guess I’m a little late to the party. It’s a long story,” he added, in answer to her questioning look, “but I was with Brice.”

Avery nodded. They were both silent for a while, the only sound the occasional murmur of hotel guests, and the distant strains of music.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Atlas, about the look on his face when he’d told her that they were through. She wanted to drown that memory out, pound it into oblivion until there was nothing left of it. She’d thought that alcohol would help, but all it had managed to do was sharpen her melancholy. She wondered if she would ever be able to forget.

“Avery, are you okay?” Cord asked. Startled, Avery turned to look at Cord—really look at him.

Driven by some foreign impulse, she rose up to kiss him.

For an instant Cord tensed, startled, not kissing her back. Then one of his hands was cradling her head, and the other was curled around her waist, and they felt scaldingly good on her numb, cold skin. The kiss was rough and insistent, a little frantic.

“Avery. What was that?” Cord finally asked, stepping away.

“I’m sorry …” Avery tried not to feel panicked, but the moment Cord’s lips had left hers, the darkness was back, worse than before—tugging relentlessly at the corners of her mind, dragging her down into its endless, terrible depths.

She wasn’t sure why she’d kissed Cord. Some logical part of her knew that there were plenty of reasons she should stay away. He was her friend, and it would ruin the friendship. And, of course, the biggest reason of all: she loved Atlas. But Atlas no longer wanted her, which was the only reason she was here with Cord, instead of in his arms.

No matter what she did right now, Atlas would still be gone.

She leaned in again, knowing she might regret this, knowing she was playing with fire, just as a message from Leda danced before the backs of her closed eyelids.

Where are you?

Avery hesitated. She didn’t know what had prompted it, but the message was enough to make her step away—like a cosmic stroke of fate, protecting her from doing something with Cord that she could never turn back from.

Cord looked startled. He knew her so well. Avery wondered if he could read her right now, could see how hurt she was, how close she’d almost come to kissing him again.

“I’m sorry, but I need to go,” she whispered, and ran toward the elevator bank without looking back.

RYLIN

WHAT A FANTASTIC night it had been, Rylin reflected as she walked through the enormous entrance to the hotel lobby. She couldn’t decide which part had been her favorite. She’d listened to the music for a while, and wandered across the beautiful bridges. She and Leda had perched at a table to eat three full martini glasses of the bacon risotto. She’d even danced with a few of her classmates, the girls from English class she sometimes ate lunch with. Truthfully, the whole night had been perfect, except for the fact that she’d never found Cord. She wondered if for some reason he hadn’t come, after all.

Rylin didn’t feel too disappointed, though. They would see each other again soon enough, when they were both back in the Tower.

She’d started toward the hotel’s private elevator bank when a shadow moved in her peripheral vision, and something about it gave her pause.

It was Cord. He was over by the windows with Avery Fuller; the two of them alone in the dimly lit, deserted lobby. Of course she would see Cord when she was least expecting it. Rylin swayed in her heels, debating whether to go say hi—

And then her body went cold all over as Avery leaned up to kiss him.

They stood there, their faces pressed together, clinging to each other. Rylin wanted desperately to look away but she couldn’t; some cruel masochistic instinct forced her to watch. Her blood pounded through her body, close to the surface of her skin, like liquid fire. Or maybe liquid pain.

Then Rylin realized how she looked, just standing there watching Cord and Avery like a complete fool; and what if they glanced up to see her? She had the presence of mind to dart toward the elevator bank, where she began hitting the button furiously, blinking back tears.

How funny hearts were, Rylin thought, that she wasn’t dating Cord—had no claim on him anymore—yet this hurt her as much as ever. More so, even, now that she knew the girl he’d chosen over her.

She’d been stupid to think that she could ever truly belong in this world. Oh, they let her attend their school, show up at their parties, but she wasn’t one of them. Rylin realized with a startling clarity that she never would be. No matter how hard she tried.

Why would a boy like Cord ever pick a girl like Rylin, when he could have Avery Fuller?

LEDA

LEDA SCREAMED AND kept running down the corridor. It went on and on, no doors or end in sight, just the jagged floor beneath her and the shadows chasing her, flapping their great dusty wings above her face. They looked like harpies, scratching her with her claws, cackling maliciously. Leda recognized them for what they were.

They were all her secrets.

Her cruelty to Avery, her bitterness toward her father, the things she’d done to Watt … every last one of her misdeeds, her years of meddling and spying and plotting all coming home to roost at last … and foremost among them was what she’d done to Eris.

The harpies came closer, scratching at her face. They drew blood. Leda fell to her knees, wailing, and threw her hands up—

A sudden wetness on her face jostled her awake. She rubbed at her eyes. They stung a little. She put her hands below her, feeling the unfamiliar, lumpy surface. She was on a couch somewhere.

“Leda! You’re awake!”

Watt’s face appeared before her, his strong jaw dusted with a shadow of stubble. “You’ve been out for hours. What happened? Nadia hacked a med-bot, got it to deliver adrenaline, which we’ve been feeding you in small doses—she thought you might be getting close to waking just now, which is why I threw the water on you—”