Against one wall are lockers labeled with scribbled names on masking tape. Lining the back wall is a familiar rack of weapons similar to the one in the Lodge basement.

Sel walks along a row of clothing racks on the wall to our left. “Gill said to gear up with whatever you need.” He points to the clothing, shelving units of boots and jackets, and a smaller rack of weapons that all look rather… collapsible and small. Meant for concealing on one’s person.

Sel points to the desk and the massive gray-and-white machine in the corner. It looks like a printer, but I can’t see where the paper would go. Instead, there’s a stack of plastic cards nearby. “She’s sending photos over for IDs. They’ve got a collection of fakes already. Said there’s cash in the drawers.” He pivots and heads back upstairs without another word.

William and Alice move toward the clothing, and I follow Sel’s retreating form with my eyes until he’s out of sight. He hasn’t spoken to me since the fight before breakfast, and I assume that, with how we left things, he’ll be taking off on his own to find Nick. I hope we can get a chance to talk before we part ways, but he’s not making an opening for that very clear.

Alice waves me over, a smile on her face. “Come on, Bree, this is like shopping at the badassery store, except everything is free.”

Ten minutes later, I’m back in our small bathroom, twisting around to see myself in the mirror while Alice makes her phone call to her parents. Everything the Lieges had in their communal closet was made for comfort and mobility. I’d found a long, flowing charcoal tunic split along the sides and a dark red embroidered V-neck top, matching leggings, and a hooded jacket. Alice found us both low-heeled, shin-high boots that are clearly used. The size isn’t quite perfect, but the leather is supple and seems ready to fit and flex around my ankles and toes.

After contemplating my options, I decide to braid back the front of my curls so that my hair would be out of my face in the event we run into trouble. It’s been twelve hours, but the back middle section of my hair is still damp to the touch. I’m debating braiding it, too, when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I call.

“It’s me.” William’s voice is muffled through the door, and I swing it open to see him standing in the room wearing an uncertain expression and a pair of dark jeans, a black sweater, and a black jacket. A Sel outfit if I’ve ever seen one. “Do I look okay?”

I smile. “William, you look fantastic. I would not have guessed it, but black is definitely your color.”