Some, she startled to realize, had normal eyes—they weren’t reincarnated. Those who were, however, recognized her and whispered “Eva” as she passed. But unlike Roman, they hesitated to do more than smile and watch her curiously.
Fine by her.
They walked for several minutes before the wall became visible through the man-made structures and over the thatched roofs. They just needed to keep this pace a little while longer?—
A horn blew in the distance, then twice more. The villagers had stopped to count each blow.
Silence, then all eyes fell on Selene and Petrina.
Petrina filled her hands with knives. “Run.”
They broke into a sprint, and people scattered out of the way—the signal had been for them.
The Drynopian Guard appeared in the streets, outfitted in deep green tunics that hung to mid-thigh. Leather chest armor fit snugly to their bodies, and they wore matching vambraces and leather pauldrons. Secured to their belts were short swords and curved daggers.
Petrina led a path through the streets that Selene followed with ease. She’d trained for this. This was an obstacle course, just like back home…with very obvious differences. This was a real place, with real people, and a very real danger.
The passageways and alleys narrowed in many places but widened in others. They took stone stairways and crossed raised platforms. The guardscame from all directions, appearing out of shadows and through doorways. Only sheer instinct kept them out of reach.
A familiar squawk drew Selene’s attention toward Turos, who flapped overhead. He guided them away from guards and dead ends, and provided them with shortcuts through the market.
Still, the guards closed in.
Finally, the edge of the village came into sight, and the women ran through a hub full of food stalls and boiling cauldrons.
Petrina paused at one, skidding on loose gravel. She aimed her knife at the vendor. “Move.”
He did, and she snatched a thick, fork-tipped stick from his hands.
“Keep going, Selene,” she said, then rammed the fork under the lip of the smoking cauldron.
Selene sprinted for an alley where Turos had turned.
Behind her, Petrina tipped the boiling contents into the road just as the guards drew close. They retreated, leaping out of the way and tripping over one another. Screams rang out, and new orders were shouted into the wind.
Selene turned the corner just as a large net came down like a shadow from overhead?—
Reflexes took over, and she leapt back. Petrina spun them both out of the alley just as the net landed with a rush of air and dust.
Petrina’s gaze flicked between the failed trap and the villagers on the roof. “We literally can’t trust anyone, can we?”
Those weren’t guards. Those were her people.
These aren’t your people, she reminded herself.
Turos, with a furious screech, dove toward the roof with claws outstretched. The people scattered away from the edge, ducking and screaming. The dronsian’s anger pulsed through the air like a heartbeat.
“We have him on our side, at least,” Selene said.
“A lot of good that’s doing us.”
They didn’t have the time to debate it. Too much time had been wasted to avoid this trap, erasing the gain Petrina had given them. Time Selene had desperately needed.
They had a clear path to the wall now, and it was the Blade obstacle course all over again. Selene got through it all, only to find herself falling short at the end.
“I can’t do it,” she said, her legs screaming, her lungs burning. “I can’t run the wall.”
“You have to,” Petrina said. “Don’t think. Just do it.”
