Reclaimed by Madeleine Roux

Author:Madeleine Roux [Roux, Madeleine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780451491855
Google: t7LQDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0451491858
Publisher: Ace
Published: 2021-08-16T23:00:00+00:00

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Three hours later, Senna put on the mauve dress and her same shapeless shoes and shuffled out the door. Things remained fuzzy in her mind, but three things stood out as true: Anju had gone to the effort; she wanted answers or at least clarification from Paxton; she didn’t know what else to do.

The dress, stretchy and clingy and not at all her usual style, was the nicest thing she had ever worn on her body after the fancy VIT from Agent Tiwari. Senna had stood inspecting herself in the bathroom mirror, hair curling around one finger while she twisted back and forth, realizing she had the wrong underwear for the outfit, but none better to change into. Over the dress she wore a loose, cottony beige jacket that hid the obvious outline stamped around the butt of her dress. She felt more like herself once she pulled on the jacket, swaddled and undefined.

On the way out the door, she passed the paints still on the kitchen table and stared at them longingly. She would have preferred to stay in and just paint. Images burned to flow from her heart to her hand, but they would have to simmer awhile longer.

Just to make sure she had things right, Senna checked the facility map on her VIT and then navigated to the balcony outside the dormitories. A walkway wrapped around to the right that would get her to Paxton’s officer faster, but she chose to go down the ramp and through the courtyard instead. The “sun” was setting, and the rosy-orange glow smoldering through the Dome seemed like it deserved to be experienced. If she was going to paint again, she would need to fill herself up with color, get drunk on it, remember what it was like to speak only in that bright and imperfect language.

The courtyard was full of inspiration, empty of people. Empty, that is, until Senna reached the bottom of the ramp and let her eyes wander up toward the walkway. She saw the hint of a shadow there, and hands wrapped around the railing. Following the pale-blue-and-white-mosaic trail to the right, she turned and shielded her eyes, and caught sight of Zurri standing in the center of the suspended walkway, frozen and staring. She didn’t look well.

Twenty minutes to seven. That was enough time. Senna took the stairs up to the catwalk as quickly as she could, and even then it felt like she was moving through oxygenated pudding. Everything was in slow motion since her nap. It would get easier, both Paxton and Dr. Colbie had assured her; healing the brain took time.

“Hey,” Senna called as she reached the top, out of breath. She saw a tendon jump in Zurri’s jaw at her greeting, but nothing else. “Are you all right?”

She approached with her hands out in surrender, loath to startle her, sensing the fragility of a wounded animal, and one perched on a precarious ledge. The fall was long and while probably not fatal, certainly painful.

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