Chapter 202: After Curfew

The last orange streaks of sunset had burned away by the time the group left the aquarium. Darkness settled over Bellhaven with surprising speed, turning the sky a deep, hazy blue. Someone waking from a long nap might have checked the clock and wondered whether it was nearly morning.

They had made it through all three sections of Bellhaven Marine Park, which was more sightseeing than Cyrus had expected to get out of a school trip. The day wasn't entirely theirs, though. St. Alder had booked overnight accommodations for the students, and the teachers had been clear that everyone needed to return on time. Missing a room check would turn a pleasant outing into an argument Cyrus had no interest in having.

Around six, the four of them reached a busy shopping street filled with restaurants, little takeout places, and storefronts lit from within. The businesses had similar facades, giving the block a neat appearance despite the crowds moving from one menu to the next. Dinner smells drifted out whenever somebody opened a door. Cyrus was in a considerably better mood by the time they picked somewhere to eat.

All four ate together, and the food was good enough that he bought more on their way out. His bag held a few things he could snack on later, provided he didn't finish them before reaching the hotel. It wasn't that he was hungry after dinner. He simply saw no reason to pass up food he liked while it was right in front of him.

Besides, he had money to spend. There had been times when an extra snack required serious thought. Tonight he could afford one without calculating how many meals he'd have to skip afterward. Cyrus considered that an excellent development and bought the extra food without guilt.

At seven, the streetlights blinked on along the road. The sky had gone dark enough that their reflections were visible in the shop windows.

Owen filled him in on the sleeping arrangements as they walked. The academy had paid for two hotels, one for the girls and one for the boys. Cyrus was impressed. He'd expected the school to find somewhere to put everybody and leave it at that. Separate hotels sounded downright generous.

Then Owen mentioned the distance between them.

The boys' hotel was across a bridge, roughly fifteen minutes from the girls' building on foot. Teachers were also doing evening room checks, which meant that anyone hoping to sneak over to the other hotel would have some planning to do. Cyrus wasn't interested in that particular challenge. He was more concerned with arriving in time to put down his bag and enjoy the snacks he'd bought.

The first check was at eight. It was only a little after seven, but everyone was already heading back as instructed. After seeing Audra and Gemma to the entrance of the girls' hotel, Cyrus and Owen continued toward the bridge.

There wasn't much traffic. An occasional car passed with a low rush of engine noise before the street settled down again. Beyond the railing, the water reflected lights from the buildings farther along the shore. Every ripple broke the colors into small pieces, so that the surface looked covered in moving tiles of blue, gold, and pink.

The wind coming off the water was colder than the view suggested.

Owen, still carrying a folded wrap he'd bought on the shopping street, shivered when a gust came across the bridge. He pulled his jacket closer with his free hand, then looked down at his food as though it had given him an idea.

"Hey, Cyrus, I've got a question for you."

"What kind of question?" Cyrus asked.

Owen examined his wrap with exaggerated concentration. "You know how everybody associates Italy with pasta? What's the first thing people associate with Amsterdam?"

Cyrus almost said waffles. The answer was already on his tongue when he noticed Owen's expression and understood where the conversation was going.

"The stuff they have to pixelate in the pictures," Cyrus replied.

Owen burst out laughing, nearly folding over with his dinner still in hand. Cyrus couldn't help smiling at how pleased his friend was with such a stupid joke.

For the record, Cyrus was a perfectly respectable person who never watched that kind of material. Being familiar with a subject didn't mean he participated in it. He simply happened to know a lot of things.

By the time they reached the boys' hotel, Owen had recovered enough to act normal again. They went upstairs and found their assigned room, a plain space with two beds, ordinary furniture, and a small balcony. Everything appeared clean and usable. That was about all Cyrus could say for it.

He glanced around, remembering how impressed he'd been when Owen described the academy's hotel arrangements. Somewhere along the way, he'd started imagining that the school might have booked rooms like the ones in travel magazines. Apparently he'd given its budget far too much credit.

Two hotels had already been a generous expense. Expecting luxury on top of that was getting greedy, especially when he wasn't paying for any of it. Cyrus put his bag down and stopped entertaining expensive fantasies.

He took a bottled sweet tea out of his snack bag and held it in his palm. The drink cooled while he stood there, saving him the trouble of looking for ice. After a short while, he twisted off the cap and stepped onto the balcony.

From there he could see the same stretch of water they'd crossed earlier. The lights across the waterfront seemed steadier at this distance, and the bridge looked smaller than it had during their walk. A few cars moved along it, their headlights passing through the darkness.

Owen joined him outside and immediately pulled his jacket tighter. He glanced at Cyrus, who was drinking his chilled tea without so much as rubbing his hands together. It was a chilly evening, and Cyrus seemed completely unaffected. Owen could only admire his tolerance for the cold. He stayed on the balcony for a little while, keeping his jacket closed against the wind.

They spent the remaining time amusing themselves in the room. Cyrus had no trouble finding things to do when nobody was expecting him to be anywhere else. Before long, the clock reached eight.

The hallway had gone quiet enough for them to hear a teacher working his way down the rooms. A knock sounded farther along, followed by muffled voices, then another knock a little closer. Eventually someone rapped on their door.

A male teacher checked that both boys were present. He reminded them not to wander around the hotel or go out after curfew, and to be ready for another check later in the evening. There was nothing unusual about the warning. A building full of students away from home probably required repeating it in every room.

Once the teacher had finished and left, Owen let out a breath. His relief was a little too noticeable for somebody who had done nothing wrong.

He waited until the footsteps faded, then turned to Cyrus with a conspiratorial expression.

"Want to sneak out for a little while? We could go have some fun."

"It's getting late, so I'm staying here," Cyrus said.

He stretched out on his bed, looking completely prepared to remain there until morning. His snacks were within reach, and he had no desire to run into a teacher while wandering the halls.

Owen glanced at the time. Something occurred to him, and he tried a different approach.

"We could go back out for a late-night bite."

Cyrus turned his head. "What about the second room check?"

Owen was supposed to be one of the responsible students in their class. Apparently all it took to make him forget that was a school trip with an overnight stay.

"That's not until ten," Owen said. "We can get food on the same street and come back before they check again. We've got time."

The argument was much more convincing when food was involved. Cyrus had eaten dinner and bought snacks, but getting another meal wasn't an unreasonable way to spend an evening away from school. Provided they returned before ten, the plan sounded manageable.

"All right, I'm in. Are we going now?" he asked.

Owen's shoulders eased, apparently relieved that his second suggestion had worked.

"Wait until I give you the signal," he said.

He slipped out of the room almost immediately, despite having just sat through a lecture about staying put. Cyrus watched the door close and shook his head.

Owen used to be more reserved about this sort of thing. Now he was making plans to sneak out of hotels and recruit friends to join him. Maybe spending more time with people had finally made him bolder. Cyrus supposed that could count as personal growth, even if the timing was questionable.

About five minutes later, his phone vibrated. A message from Owen told him to meet halfway across the bridge they'd walked over earlier.

At least he'd chosen a straightforward meeting point. Cyrus pocketed his phone, grabbed his room key card, and left the hotel. It would be ridiculous to sneak out successfully only to get locked out of his own room.

Nobody stopped him on the way down. He passed through the lobby, stepped outside, and made for the bridge without drawing attention. The plan appeared to be working, which was more than he had expected from Owen's sudden enthusiasm for breaking curfew.

A figure was waiting ahead when Cyrus reached the bridge. He noticed the person from a distance and slowed slightly. The silhouette wasn't quite right for Owen.

His brow tightened. In the darkness, his pupils deepened, and his Frostborn eyesight picked out details long before the person ahead could make out his face. He knew who was standing there now.

It was Iris Wexley.

Cyrus checked his phone. The message had come from Owen, yet the person waiting at the appointed spot was Iris. He studied the screen for a second and tapped something before putting the phone away. Then he continued walking.

As he came closer, Iris turned toward him. Cyrus gave her no indication that he had recognized her from farther away. He stopped at a conversational distance, his voice as even as usual.

"Where's Owen?" he asked.

Iris said nothing. She watched him directly, making no effort to answer the question.

Cyrus waited, then tried again without changing his tone.

"I asked where Owen is."

Iris's restraint finally began to crack. Irritation broke through her expression, though she seemed to be making an effort to keep her voice under control.

"Owen this, Owen that. Has anyone ever told you how incredibly annoying you are?"

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. She looked genuinely worked up now, and that was interesting. The corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile.

So she'd finally lost her patience with him.

"Actually, nobody has," he said, his voice lifting with unmistakable amusement. "Do you want to be the first person to tell me?"