Bound by Glass

32| Warm Skins, Cold Memories

I winced every time my knees banged against the metal. The ventilation shafts stretched out before me, every turn Vace behind me instructed me to take looking exactly like the previous one we had crawled through. I was relying solely on the rebel leader—I had no idea where I was.

My breath became ragged, my dress despite the bare back restricting me and making it difficult to breathe. The material which seemed so airy and free when I had worn this dress the first time was now stiff and feverishly hot. I banged my shoulder blades against the metal on every corner, because I was taking the turn too quickly. I could feel a bead of sweat drip down my nose, but I didn't mind.

"Left," Vace grumbled behind me.

I turned into the next sideway on my left, and suddenly we were in a large open space. We were still in the ducts, yes, but this seemed like a crossroads of the sorts. There were openings on every wall, ladders zigzagging over the walls like a giant metal web. They led to every passageway, some of which were even on the ceiling. We could impossibly still be in the tunnels surrounding the Blackwater Residence. We must have switched over to the main air- and water ducts, or even the ones under the Globes. We did climb down some ladders when we were crawling through the air ducts, so that was a possibility.

I climbed out of the ventilation shaft, marvelling at the amount of connections this space had. On the empty pieces of wall snaked countless cables and tubes. A few were leaking, spraying all kinds of fluids over the floor. Some tubes were hastily fixed, hardly doing the job. The stench of foul water drifted in my nose as I stretched, feeling the joints of my spine pop. I rolled my shoulders. I stepped over a puddle of an unrecognisable liquid, turning around to see where Vace was going. I tried to ignore the smells, focussing on the hum of the moving air instead.

I heard a clang of metal behind me. I snapped my head around, to see that Vace was fumbling with one of the tubes. He pulled loose one of the makeshift repairs, water immediately spraying out of the opening. He cupped his hands under the stream, drinking it up. He came back up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. His jacket was dusty and ripped, and I couldn't even begin to imagine what my clothes looked like. A few buttons of his blouse had sprung open, revealing parts of his chest, glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"Water," he said, "It's ungodly how warm it is in those ducts. Want some?"

I declined his offer. "No thanks, I'm fine."

"Aren't you hot?" Vace asked, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief. "In the literal sense, of course," he added quickly.

I laughed, sinking down to the ground. I scooted over to the wall, leaning against it. The concrete was cool against my bare back. A shiver ran over my warm skin, the chilled stone refreshing me. "Yes, of course I'm hot—in the literal sense, obviously," I said, "But I'm fine. The heat comforts me."

"How can heat ever be comforting?" Vace asked, sinking down next to me, leaning against the wall.

I exhaled slowly, letting the air escape between my parted lips. "I can't see my breath," I said simply.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. "Back home, there was always this rule of thumb," I continued, owing Vace an explanation. "If one's breath churned into vapour once they came outside, winter was close. So, as long as you didn't see your breath, winter was at bay. You were safe," I said. "We always dreaded the first morning we could see our breaths—and every day that would come after that. Because if we could see it, that would mean winter would come. That would mean the days of relative safety were over—you had to prepare yourself for wolf attacks and carvings," I added.