“Fuck!” The Glemarian pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, like he was pushing back tears. “Are you a friend?” he asked, a kind of desperation coating the lilt of his words. “Of his? Of Lady Lyriana’s?”
“That I am,” Auriel said. “Very much so. Of both.”
There were shouts from nearby. Too many voices to track. But they were close. If we didn’t run now, we’d be seen.
The Glemarian took a deep breath and gestured. “Follow me then. Now. Hurry.” At last, he pulled back his hood, revealing pale, northern skin, familiar dark brown curls peppered with flecks of grey, and soft, forest green eyes.
It was Rhyan’s uncle. Sean.
Chapter
Nine
LYRIANA
Sean put his finger to his lips, and removed the vadati from his pocket.
“Turion Matthias,” he said, his voice clipped and short. His Glemarian accent was completely gone.
The stone glowed blue and a voice called back, “Soturion Calden.” The dead soturion.
“We’re in pursuit of Lyriana right now,” said Sean, turning off a pathway, and leading us through another cluster of trees. “She’s alone. Heading west from the Urtavian Woods—looks like she might seek sanctuary in the Temple of Dawn.”
“I’m ordering my unit to the temple now,” said the turion. “Good work.”
The stone went white and Sean pocketed the stone.
“That should buy us some time,” Sean said, his accent thick again. “Both of you, follow me!” Sean started sprinting back through the trees, heading east, out of the city and back towards soturion housing. The opposite direction of where he had told the turion. One look from Auriel, and we ran behind him.
Sean had us stop beneath a cluster of moontrees that led out onto an exposed waterway.
“We’re nearly at my house,” he said, “You can hide there—as long as you need. We’ll keep you safe.” Then he stilled. “Shit. Don’t move. Someone’s coming.”
Sean vanished, loudly shouting at another soldier to draw their attention. I kept my back pressed to the tree, holding my breath. Auriel squeezed my hand.
Sean reported the same false story he’d given his turion— that I was spotted on the other side of the woods, heading into the city. He mentioned needing another sword back at home, then he waved the soturion off.
At that moment, the bells began to ring again. The fifteen minutes were up. Curfew had started.
“Hurry, they’ll see us,” Sean said, coming around the corner. He pointed across the waterway. “First house on the right.” He lifted his hood, carefully covering his hair and eyes. “Be ready to run. On my signal.”
He stepped forward, looking left and right. I did, too, checking for soturi, but the waterway was clear. And the porches of the homes before us were empty. He turned, making his way toward a small house. He knocked on the door with three rapid taps. There was a pause. Then two taps. Then one. A code.
I didn’t understand. All I knew was that this wasn’t his house. Otherwise, he would have had a key.
The door swung open as if on its own. No one stood in the threshold, but Sean didn’t wait. He dashed inside, gesturing over his shoulder for us to follow. I sensed someone nearby. But I never had the chance to see who it was because Sean didn’t stop running. He led us through a modest living room and then into a small kitchen with a back door which he pushed open, again gesturing for us to follow.
“Wait! Why are we leaving?” I asked.
“We’re not. We haven’t arrived,” he said.
“What?”
“You can’t be seen on the waterway with the curfew,” he said. “Trust me. The only way to keep you hidden is to go through the houses. Now stay close.”
We had entered what appeared to be a small yard. Several dolls lay discarded in the grass, like a child had been playing with them but forgot to clean up, perhaps rushed inside by their parents when the bells rang. The yard led into a neighbor’s property that Sean had us cross as well. We hopped over a fence, and then another before we entered another home from the back door, entering right into someone’s kitchen.
We rushed into a small living room. A green flag, embroidered with the silver sigil of Ka Hart, hung above a fireplace.
