ADRIAN
I don’t say a word until we’re three corridors away from Darian’s room.
Kelvin’s trailing behind me, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to keep up. I take a turn down a quiet hallway and slip into one of the unused storage rooms near the east wing.
It smells like old wood polish and dust and secrets. I shut the door behind us and finally let myself breathe.
“That went well,” I mutter, leaning against a pile of crates.
Kelvin drops the bag of supplies he brought for Darian onto the floor. “You think Zeus will actually keep us out?”
“Oh, he’ll keep us out,” I say. “He’s probably gloating to Father right now. Can’t wait to watch us squirm.”
Kelvin sinks down onto a crate and scrubs a hand through his curls. “We don’t have time for this.”
“No,” I agree. “We don’t.”
The
