This time, Blaze laughed. “That little minx. I know exactly where she is.”
Augustus felt outside himself, following, but wouldn’t dare to hope. He remained still, needing them to reach their conclusion soon. And he wouldn’t dare interrupt by speaking. He barely trusted his impatient thoughts, let alone the tone that would erupt.
Blaze met his eyes. “Selene knew about the island, Augustus. I told her about it.”
Oskar spun the Ranger around, clearly needing more. “What are you saying?”
“Selene escaped Thorne’s ship knowing she would find people on that island.” Blaze laughed again. “She knew because I told her about them.”
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. But the moment the words left Blaze’s mouth, something inside him clicked into place.
Selene was on one of those islands.
The word “mate” clanged through Selene like a bell sitting where her heart should be. The echoes of her past lives turned in chorus, all of them searching Roman’s face for the truth none of them could remember. None of those lives answered to the name Eva.
Theydidn’t know him.
Not like that.
The dronsian squawked in the corner and flapped his wings, stretching his body as if in preparation to fly. Even if he wanted to, those chains around his ankle wouldn’t allow it.
Aspasia ignored him and darted around Roman with the blade?—
Roman’s movements were too swift to follow. He countered her deadly thrust with his bare hands, even as Selene spun to avoid it.
Selene stared at the weapon and the determined woman holding it. Resolve filled Aspasia’s eyes, and not a hint of guilt.
The woman truly meant to kill her.
Aspasia twisted and ducked Roman’s arms, his body, and the barrier he was determined to be. They didn’t grapple like normal people might. They moved like trained warriors, evading and reacting with instinct.
Far more skilled than she.
Selene backed away from their fight, knife at the ready. If she could just slip past them?—
Roman and Aspasia tumbled past the exit and slammed into the wall of bookcases, rolling across them and scattering everything in their path. They traded the upper hand while books and scrolls toppled to the ground along with woven baskets. Dried herbs strung with twine were demolished underfoot. Clay pots shattered and shot into all corners.
If Selene was going to escape, now was the time.
Turos squawked again, eyes large and pleading.
She couldn’t leave him like this.
The key was hooked to the tall pole deeper in the room.
She raced to retrieve it, praying to any gods listening that she be granted more time. She lost precious seconds working the key into the small hole in his shackle. Turos held very still, though she sensed his anxiety matched hers. Time was of the essence.
Roman grunted, barely dodging a wide sweep of the blade?—
“He’s mine!” Aspasia snarled, voice drenched in something too bitter to belove.
Her anger was cut short by an attack by Roman, followed by the clatter of a falling chair.
Turos and Selene shared a fast look as the lock clicked, and the shackle fell open. The dronsian burst off his post and flew for the open door. Selene sprinted after him into the sunlight, but in those few seconds, he was already gone—nothing more than a shadow slicing across the treetops.
Fly free, friend.
Petrina popped out from behind a tree. She gave Selene a once-over as her hands hooked to her hips. “What did you do?”
