“Left here,” I breathe, feeling like I’m speaking through water, tugging at his hand even though everything feels disjointed and lost now.
Somewhere behind us, shouts erupt.
Then the snaps of a crossbow.
“Run,” Saeth urges.
We run.
We hit another wall, and for an instant, I can’t remember which way to turn. There are a lot of false tunnels down here, deliberate mistakes so anyone without a real reason to be here couldn’t sneak into the palace. I close my eyes and think back to my teenage years. Waiting for my mother to finish yet another game of chess. Waiting for my father to set aside his bottle of brandy and retire for the evening. Counting the minutes until Cory would tap on my wall, waiting for my signal that the coast was clear and we could slip into the servants’ passageways.
Back then, if we were using the passage out of the butchers’ kitchens, I always whispered just a little too loudly around the guards that I was sneaking down to the wine cellar for a bottle.
I’m still reeling from the knowledge that they knew I was actually sneaking out of the palace, and they didn’t care.
Or they were too afraid of my father to care.
“Your Majesty,” Quint urges, and I realize I’m still at the wall, deliberating.
These memories help.Left, I think, and I tug his hand.
I’m glad it’s dark, and the sounds of battle have faded behind us. There’s nothing but silence now, and once we’re out, no one will be able to follow us.
But that includes Thorin, too. My steps slow, and I come to a stop. My breathing is loud in the narrow tunnel, my heartbeat rocketing in my ears. I strain to listen for anyone. Anything.
Nothing.
“How much farther?” says Saeth.
“We’ll be out of the tunnel soon, and I’m not leaving Thorin.”
“We don’t know how many they—”
“I’m not leaving him,” I say. “You heard what Sommer said. If they catch him, they’llhanghim.”
But in my heart, I know they’ll do worse. They’ll torture him to try to findme.
The tunnels remain silent.
Please, I think.
“We need to move,” Saeth says.
I plant my feet. “Not yet.”
I count to ten.
To twenty.
To a hundred.
And then I hear a breath.
Saeth shoves me aside, lifting his crossbow.
“It’s me,” says Thorin, and his voice is rough, coming closer. “You need—you need—”
Then I have no warning because he grunts and nearly runs right into us. Saeth catches most of his weight and swears. I don’t realize the problem until he says, “Shit. Where did they get you? Ben,talk. Where?”
