Reconciliation, Tate mouthed.
Roslyn jerked, looking toward her father with a strange expression on her face.
Now she got it.
Maybe the task Tate had asked of her wouldn’t be so difficult after all. Tate made sure to keep her expectations reasonable. They might work well together now but that didn’t mean he’d forgive Roslyn for turning her back on her lineage.
That being said, this was a positive development.
Night lifted his nose and sniffed the air.This way.
The Veles took the lead with a loping run, the pace brisk as Tate brought up the rear. They raced across the palace grounds, leaving the din of the survivors quickly behind. Tate chanced a look over her shoulder, seeing the night sky dyed orange from the flames as they spurted from the windows on the left wing of the palace. Further in the distance, a column of orange reached for the sky.
“How the hell did they do all this?” Tate asked herself quietly.
Stone shouldn’t be able to burn. It might melt from the strength of the flames, but burn? No. Yet that was exactly what she was seeing as the flames ate at the stone—like it was a form of fuel.
It had to be a relic or ancient weapon of some kind. That was the only way for the impossible to suddenly become reality. It also fit with Peter and Nathan’s methods. Both men had a penchant for using the tools of the past in horrible ways.
Of course, it was always possible this was someone else’s doing. An enemy of the emperor or empire that had no relation to Tate.
As much as she’d wish that over the alternative, she couldn’t quite make herself believe it. Maybe if she hadn’t seen Peter or if this impossible fire wasn’t burning.
No, this had to be Nathan’s work. Maybe he and Peter had teamed up to do this.
Either way, she needed to stop whatever they had planned. The consequences if she failed were unimaginable.
Tate slowed as Night paused, pressing his nose closer to the ground as he circled. Although a Veles’ nose wasn’t as sensitive as a canine’s, it was a thousand times better than any humans. If anyone could track Peter, it was him.
Night sneezed.Got him.
He darted away, Tate following. The path they took led them out of a side gate and into the Upper. They dashed through the government district, leaving it behind quickly as they headed into the well-cultivated neighborhoods where many of the nobles resided. Before long, the sights grew familiar as they approached the cliff’s edge that divided the Upper and Lower.
“I think I know where he’s heading.”
Me too. He’ll head for the elevators; it’s his best chance.Night and Tate shared a look before they increased their pace, sprinting at a dead run.
In retrospect, it was an obvious conclusion. Peter would stick out no matter where he went in the Upper. Society was tight knit up here, gossip making the rounds faster than light. With his Silva coloring, he would attract attention ensuring people remembered his passage.
There were also few people who would rent their mansions out. To these people, perception and prestige were as valuable as gold. They wouldn’t want their neighbors calling them low born, after all.
No, the best place to hide was in the Lower. It was more populous and would provide better cover. Although there were two ways down, the elevators were faster than the hill. At this time of night, they’d be busy with those returning home for the evening.
The elevators came into view a short time later. Tate and Night sidestepped the back of the large crowd already queued up and waiting for their turn to descend.
I lost the trail. There are too many people. It’s making it difficult to parse the scents.
Tate had been afraid of that.
“Guess we’ll have to do it the hard way then.”
Check each person one by one until they found him.
Tate pushed through the crowd as Night did the same, taking precious time to glance at each face.
Seeing someone wearing a hood, she raced toward them, reaching up and yanking it back. A loud protest greeted her as the hood’s owner glared.
Not Peter.
