Dietan looks past Marcus to his men, who are waiting patiently for the signal to advance. “You two should turn back now. I wish you would listen to me. Marcus, take some of the men and get her out of here and keep her safe.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m not leaving you,” I tell him, hiking my rucksack higher on my shoulders. “Didn’t you hear the priest?”
Dietan sighs.
“What she said,” adds Marcus.
Arguing with both of us is a losing battle, and Dietan knows it.
“Fine. You’re free to make your own decisions—I won’t issue an order—but this is a bad choice.”
“The same one you’re making,” I shoot back.
With a resigned sigh, he nods to the men, turns on his heel, and strikes out to cross the bridge.
My skin feels tight all over my body, like it’s being tugged in different directions. Every instinct in me screams to turn back, but I push down my fear and put one foot in front of the other, following Dietan into the acrid haze. The buildings on either side are empty; some doors are cracked open, but I don’t see any movement in the dark behind them, as if the people who lived here left in a hurry.
Loose scraps of parchment blow down the empty street. Window shutters clack against their siding, sounding a rhythmicrat-tat-tatsound that echoes my pounding heart. I would swallow my fear, but my mouth is too dry.
The trusses overhead creak and groan in the wind, secured by ropes stretched above us like a spider’s web. Ragged Loegrian flags flap on their poles. Everything about this place sets me on edge. It feels like we’re being watched, and I want to believe that it’s just my imagination, but I can’t shake the dread creeping down my spine.
Marcus’s bootsteps are quiet, as if he, too, senses that something is wrong. The wind barely helps clear the smoke and visibility is low. Even Dietan, who walks a few paces ahead, is merely a shadow.
I look up and spy fabric whipping around one of the rooftops. I freeze, staring at it. Was it just another flag? Or is someone—or something—up there? Blood roars in my ears, and I try desperately to listen for any movement, but the wind drowns out all else.
I try not to panic as I catch up to Dietan. “It feels like we’re walking right into a trap,” I whisper, leaning in close to his ear.
He nods, his eyes still ahead. “I know. I feel it, too.”
My stomach twists as we pass under a large arch festooned in tattered pennants and broken wind chimes. It’s the halfway point. Now we’ve crossed onto Estyrion’s side of the bridge.
I look over my shoulder, at the path leading back to Loegria. Marcus and his men are a good distance behind me. Marcus catches my eye and nods. He’s frowning, focused, and never takes his hand off the sword at his side. He gestures to his men to speed up, to draw even with me and Dietan.
But it’s too late.
I hear it first—the distinct sound of rope sliding against the metal above us.
I hurl myself onto Dietan’s back, shoving him forward. We fall to the ground just as the archway collapses behind us in a great cloud of dust and debris.
The sound is explosive, like a whip cracking. My ears ring loudly. I can’t stop gagging on the dust, and I’m shaking uncontrollably.
Dietan’s hand finds mine, and his tight grasp helps me up. We’re both unhurt, but his beautiful face is pale and smeared with dirt.
I can hear Dietan’s men shouting from the other side of the rubble. The arch that marked the border between kingdoms has been reduced to a tangled mess of support beams and stone.
We’ve been completely cut off from the others.
Marcus’s face appears in a gap in the debris. He reaches his arm through an opening barely wide enough for a person to slip through. He beckons me to grab his hand and climb through the opening.
“Quickly! Now!” Marcus shouts.
Heavy footsteps hammer on the beams above us, surrounding us on all sides. From below comes the sound of wood splintering and stone cracking. The ground beneath our feet starts to crumble. The impact is tearing the fragile bridge apart.
Dietan shoves me forward, and Marcus grabs my arm and begins pulling me through the opening. Then I turn and reach for Dietan, but my hand grabs nothing but air.
“Dietan!” I cry.
“Don’t worry, I’m right behind you!” he shouts even though I can’t see him in the dust and haze.
