The new room was a square with four pillars and a floor that looked clean enough to perform surgery on. Which meant, of course, that it was going to lie to me.
The lie appeared as thin, shimmering lines in the air. The word 'No,' stitched into the very fabric of the space, so faint you only noticed it after you bumped into one and the room tutted at you like a disappointed aunt.
Valeria hummed, a bright, dangerous sound. "How many invisible fences can we poke before it writes us a ticket?"
"Let's not find out," I said. "Read first."
Julius stood by the door, his hands behind his back, a level surface in a deceptive room. "Stop trying to buy the space at retail," he said, his voice calm. "Use what refuses to move."
"Use the holes."
"Use the parts of the room that aren't trying to impress you," he corrected. "Questions first. Answers later."
