Storm Fall by Tracy Banghart

Author:Tracy Banghart [Banghart, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-12-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

The large living room of Galena’s home sat cloaked in shadows and neglect. The air smelled of the dusty remains of flowers, a scent she always associated with her grandmother, who’d died years ago.

Beside her, Pyralis hesitated on the threshold.

“Thank you for coming today,” Galena said. He’d flown in that morning, for no other reason than that she’d asked him to. “I’ve . . . I’ve been meaning to do this for months, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been back?” Pyralis asked as he stepped inside.

“A long time.” Her voice sounded too loud in the hushed house. “When I returned from my . . . ordeal, Josef was dead and Milek living in Atalanta. I couldn’t bring myself to stay.”

She’d been living in a suite at the capitol ever since.

“It’s okay if you need more time,” Pyralis murmured.

With a sigh, Galena said, “No. I refuse to let this place haunt me.”

Truthfully, it was that and more. At this moment, Milek’s team was searching for Aris Haan, and so much depended on whether they found her: the integration movement, but also Milek’s happiness. It was a day for distractions, for putting ghosts to rest.

Pyralis’s warm brown eyes blinked into the darkness. “I understand the weight of memories.”

Galena tapped the light panel and several lamps blinked on. Pale-blue walls led to a dramatically pitched ceiling. The living room’s clean lines were echoed by the simple golden wood furniture. The white tiled floor was streaked with the dust.

“It’s like a museum,” Galena murmured, running a finger through the thick dust on the back of a chair.

“One that holds your happiest memories,” Pyralis replied.

She glanced back at him. “Not all of them.”

They sifted through her belongings, dividing everything into piles. Those items she wanted to keep, and those she would give away. They did the easy rooms first: the living room, where they stacked most of the furniture on the “donate” side of the room, and the kitchen, where everything but her grandmother’s tea set would go.

“Milek thinks we were getting close to Elom,” she said, as she stacked plates. “That’s why Lieutenant Haan was shot down.”

Pyralis continued collecting silverware into a large basket. “I met with Lieutenant Latza yesterday. Among other things, he mentioned that his contacts think the intel on Elom was a setup.”

“A setup for what?” Galena leaned against the counter, her hands resting on either side of the stack of plates, all to be given away. She couldn’t live with their reminders of the life she’d had with Josef and Milek. The quiet, distant meals, where no one knew what to say to one another.

Pyralis sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. When he met her eyes, she saw an emotion with which she was intimately familiar.

Regret.

“I think you were right about Lieutenant Haan becoming a target,” he said. “We have reason to believe Elom set a trap for her specifically.”

Galena’s stomach sank. “But how did they know about the invisible wingjet?”

“I don’t think they did,” Pyralis said.

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