But he might be if I go through with this. If I turn him in as a bargaining chip.
No. They won’t kill him,I reason.A peaceful trade. That’s all.
“Not happening.” I pull my pack over my shoulders and keep my ear to the door until I’m sure they’ve passed. Then, sliding the door open, whisper, “Come on. We’re moving.”
It takes a solid two minutes to bully Jude into sitting up and another three to get him moving down the hall, in the opposite direction from where I think the men went. He stumbles out of the compartment like a drunk from a bar after last call.
“I suppose we’ll just outrun them?” he slurs ahead of me as I shush him. “After all, there aresooomany places to go!”
“We’re getting off early at the next stop,” I snap at him under my breath.
He turns a knowing—if a little delirious—grin at me. “Oh, someone feelsguilty.”
“I just need to think about it a little more. Don’t get excited.” Damn it. I’ve never been good at making decisions. But I need to be sure about this—before I hand him over.
“Would youmiss me, Alistaire?” Jude takes a stumbling step forward, catching himself. “That’s very sweet.”
“Would youstopleaning into the wall like that?” I nudge him down the hall and peer over my shoulder. “Someone will hear you.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Are thechainsyou tied me up with making too much noise?” Jude leans a hard right, loudly scraping the Eleutheraen gold against the bronze siding of the wall, emitting a wretched screeching sound.
I panic. “Okay!Okay.” I throw another nervous glance over my shoulder and grab at his cloak, searching for where I’ve clasped the chain shut and freeing his wrists. “Don’t make me regret this,” I hiss, piling it back into my pack.
A horrible grin slides up Jude’s face, and I have less than a second to realize my mistake before he bursts into a run down the hall.
“You werefaking!” I call, bounding after him.
“Acting, Alistaire! There is a difference.”
Jude is faster than me, and he knows it. Which is probably why he takes the time to drop into a low, graceful bow before skirting through the door into the next carriage with a wink.
I navigate the narrow hall, sparing careful glances over my shoulder as I crash into the next compartment—the common carriage, with long sets of seats lining either side. Most of them are full with strangers, whose eyes turn to me upon my haggard arrival, aside from a few sleeping passengers.
Dread sinks into my bones as I pass each set. Jude could be disguised as anyone if the Eleutheraen gold has already worn off.
I scan the following three carriages for signs of him—a loose lock of copper hair, a golden eye,anythingthat might indicate a clumsy costume in his fatigued state—but for the most part, they all look like regular people.
Until I see a whisper of a familiar cloak down the aisle and make a dash for it—
Only to find Jude’s cloak hanging neatly over an empty seat.
My furious expression must give me away, because I sense someone staring curiously in my direction as I drop the cloak and turn—a woman with chopped, light hair and a narrow chin. She smiles just a little too sweetly as I pass, and my ear itches toward a conversation in the passage ahead. Casually slowing by the sliding door, I listen in.
“A moment, sir—I’ve just received wordmumble mumbledon’t mean to alarm you—a passengermumble mumblejumping off the—”
Suddenly, I forget all about being cold. I’m pretty sure my blood is boiling.
Jude is gone.
With any luck, he’ll return himself to the Playhouse. Without that luck, I’ve set a Player loose on the world to do gods know what near a city he’s sworn to take revenge on.
As I grip my pack and return to my seat, some senseless part of me chants:Hunt him down.But he could look like anyone or anything. I register vaguely that the blond woman is staring at me again as I pass back through to my carriage.
When I reach my compartment, I collapse onto the seat, exhausted. The space feels extra empty. In a strange way, Jude’s absence is louder than his presence.
We probably weren’t being followed at all. I was hyper-fixated on anything suspicious, and Jude picked up on it. For all I know, he could have conjured the sounds of that conversation outside our door to make me panic in the first place.
Time feels too precious to dwell on it, though.
