What is your problem with me?I nearly ask as we step through another door. But the pace is brisk, and I’m reserving my breath for what’s actually important.
Besides, I can probably guess what some of her problem is with me, given she caught me with her brother’s tongue in my mouth recently.
Through another door, and we descend a staircase that extends farther than the light reaches. The air below is markedly cooler. Stale with age. Even the lights down here are dimmer, as if they don’t expect people to come often enough to waste too much Ether on lighting the place.
“We have less than ten minutes,” I estimate. “If the goal is to escape, why are we going down?”
The twins share a wary look.
“Too much talking, not enough moving.” Pia says, ducking to pass through an archway off an ancient, crumbling landing. We’re clearly in an unused part of the structure. Through the archway is a long hallway of barely enough light to see by. Every time we pass a glowing sconce, the light sets my mind at ease, sort of. But then we plunge into darkness again as we continue down the long passage with haste.
Seconds tick in the back of my mind like the clock cogs in the arena. Even though we’re all in peak fitness, our breathing is labored.
“Pia, we’re not going to make it out in time—” Just as Lucan begins to speak, a low chime sounds, the same as before. I was wrong. Prayers in Mercy are shorter than those outside the spire.
We all stop, and our eyes drift upward. Somewhere in the spire above us is where the knights have gathered for prayers. Where those same knights are now emerging from their distraction.
“I know. I didn’t expect us to. Fortunately, we didn’t have to; our way out is on this level. We have time before anyone wanders from the chapel within Mercy Spire down here.” Pia pushes off from the wall she was leaning on, still out of breath, and carries on. The hallway gives way to an old smithy—geared more for larger, simpler weapon creation than the artificerworkshops I’m familiar with.
“The way out is underground?” I force myself to avoid distraction and follow closely behind. I hate asking Pia, of all people, but I’m still mostly ignoring Lucan, even if I’m extremely aware of just how close he is. Of how often he looks my way, as if trying to catch my eyes.
“If you are within Vinguard, it’s underground. But the exit is at the ground level beyond the wall,” Pia answers, still begrudgingly. But I don’t really care if she likes me or not as long as she’s answering my questions.
I’d never thought of the ground on the outside of the wall as being lower than what Vinguard’s ground level is. But given how built up Vinguard has become over the years, it makes sense.
“We’ll connect to the main central passage of Mercy Spire—think of it like a corkscrew. It functions as the primary route up and down. At its base is the way out,” she continues as we go through another storeroom, which connects with a nondescript workshop consumed by two long tables and various tools for renewing all manner of objects. “Dazni will meet us there. We’re not far now.”
“This seems to be going well,” Myla says as we leave the workshop through a back door and rush down another hallway. At the end, I can see a sloping passage that I assume is the “corkscrew” Pia mentioned.
“Myla, don’t—” Ember is interrupted by the harsh clang of a bell, probably marking the transition of guard shifts. We all halt as heavy footfalls echo to us from the sloping passage beyond. “Tempt fate,” Ember finishes by narrowing her eyes at her sister.
“It’s fine, keep focused.” Pia speaks calmly, but her shoulders are nearly up to her ears. “Like I said, we’re lower than most go. The only people who would come this far down are a hunting party, and there’s not one scheduled.”
“You’re sure, Pia?” Lucan’s eyes dart to the passage ahead. Thefootsteps seem to be getting louder.
She sighs in a way that painfully reminds me of Saipha’s older sister. But, to her credit, she does seem to take the concern seriously. Pia pauses, opening one of the last doors before the corkscrew passage. It’s a small storeroom with a dusty assortment of supplies like waterskins and bedrolls that I imagine a Mercy Knight would need on a hunting mission, lit by a single, flickering sconce. “All right, you four wait in here; I’ll go on ahead to make sure no one is actually coming this way.”
“Pia.” Lucan takes a small step toward her. Worry furrows his brow.
“I’m going to be fine. They haven’t suspected me for all these years. They won’t now.” She grins, but it looks forced, even to me. “Just keep the door shut for anyone but me. If someone tries to open it, they’ll think it’s locked or barricaded. So much of this place is crumbling and unused.”
“Stay safe,” Lucan barely manages to say before she leaves.
The moment the door is shut, Ember places her back to it. Myla leans next to her sister, gripping the handle. That leaves Lucan and me, toward the back of a very narrow closet, staring at each other.
“You probably have a lot of questions for me.” He rubs the back of his neck as he makes his pathetic attempt at conversation.
“Not really,” I reply briskly, glancing his way. We both keep our voices at barely a whisper to avoid anyone beyond the heavy door hearing.
“Isola—”
“I don’t care what you have to say, Lucan. You lied to me, over and over.”
He sighs. “You know I couldn’t tell you the truth. It’d be admitting to high crimes against Vinguard.”
“You mean like I admitted to high crimes to you?”
“Ooooh.”Ember hums.
