Well, of course there’s nothing. Asher leapt onto his back within minutes of my arrival. We leapt into this sewer a few minutes later. I have no idea how long his men will wait before checking, but I doubt it’s going to be soon.
The worst part is that I don’t know what outcome to wish for. I keep my hand on Asher’s shoulder, and I keep walking. The odor never dissipates. Eventually the noise of the palace fades away, leaving us in silence. I expect to come to an exit point, but we don’t. It seems that we walk formiles. The only sound is my tense breathing and the wet slap of our feet through things I don’t want to think about.
But then, almost without my being aware of it, the smell abates. Or...itchanges. Instead of the bizarre cloying warmth of the tunnel, the air turns sharp and cold. Light fills the space up ahead, and I can finally see them both more clearly. Well, I can see Ky. Asher’s hood is still drawn up, his features lost in shadow.
“Stop,” says Asher. “Hold him. I’ll see if it’s safe.” He takes my hand off his shoulder and puts it on the king’s arm.
Hold him.I want to let him go.
No, that’s stupid. Ky would surely kill us both. The rage hasn’t left his gaze, and now that his eyes have shifted to me, I want to wither from the intense fury there. He left his bracers and blades back in his quarters, but he’s still wearing a breastplate and greaves. I saw the hidden knives strapped to his wrists when he first disarmed, and I’m sure he has more weapons hidden.
If he gets free now, I doubt I’d have an opportunity to draw breath.
In the faint light, I can see the scrapes and bruising from where Asher choked him and pressed him into the floor. His jaw is hard and sharp, the rope gagging him so tightly that it’s leaving marks, too.
The betrayal in his gaze is the hardest to look at.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and his eyes seem to darken. He doesn’t believe I’msorryat all. It makes me rush on. “Please—you must understand. I need to explain. We had to get out of the palace. I didn’t know Asher would—”
But then Asher is back. “It’s clear,” he says. “Come on.”
The tunnel empties into a stream in the middle of the woods. I have no idea where we are, but the air is silent and undisturbed. We have to wade through a few inches of flowing water until we step up a snowy bank—a bit of a relief because it washes our boots clean, but also a bit of torture because the icy water slips past my laces to freeze my toes. The cold is almost violent, the morning sunlight doing nothing to ease the bitterness of the wind slipping between the trees.
I was relieved about the snow, but Asher looks down at our muddy footprints and frowns, then glances up at the sky. “We need to walk through the brush,” he says. “We’re only about a mile from the palace, and it’ll be harder to follow.”
A mile. That’s somehow closer and farther than I expected. Wind whips around us, stinging my eyes.
Asher gives the king’s arm a tug. “Come on.”
This time, Ky plants his feet and holds fast. It’s not just fury in his expression now, but willful determination.
Asher swears and jerkshard.Ky tries to catch himself, but the knotted bootlaces don’t let him go far. He stumbles to his knees in the snow.
But once he’s there, he sits back on his heels. His eyes are like fire.
Asher draws a blade.
I suck in a breath. “Asher.”
He’s not looking at me. “Get up,” he snaps.
The king tries to speak around the knotted rope in his mouth, but he can’t. It doesn’t take an exceptional mind to figure it out, though.
Fuck you.
Asher steps right up to him and puts the point of that dagger against Ky’s throat. “I said,get up.”
The king doesn’t move. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. His eyes are dark and full of hatred, and the rigid stillness in his frame says volumes.
A trickle of blood appears at the edge of the blade, but he doesn’t even flinch.
I can’t keep watching Asher hurt him. Maybe I really am naive, but I never want to see him harm anyone again.
Heedless of the weapon, I step in front of him. “Asher! Stophurtinghim.”
From under the hood, his expression is dispassionate and cool, and I really don’t expect him to obey. He’s a vicious stranger, not the man who hung upside down from my rafters, offering to share his cookie.
But then his eyes soften, and he’s Asher again. He withdraws the dagger point from the king’s throat, but he doesn’t put it away. Icy wind whips between us again, and my control over this moment feels very tenuous.
