I hadn’t known.
I hadn’t known, nor anticipated that knowledge.
I heedlessly believed that if Zrenyth’s collar came off my neck, my wyrm would come back with full force.
Jett’s hand whipped over a shoulder, and he gripped the smooth hilt of his sword. It whined a low note as he unleashed the blade.
I skittered out of its reach, chills slithering down my spine.
“How about you go look for that escape tunnel instead? That’s the only way you’ll ever find yourself free of us.” The keen edge of the sword glittered in the corridor’s dimness. Jett struck out fast, slashing his sword against the stone wall right beside me. A shriek almost escaped my mouth as I scuttled sideways. The wake of spraying sparks warmed my back. The smell of singed material wafting through the air.
Holy shit!
“How about I give you further incentive to find the tunnel?” he asked slyly.
Tension ran rampant, making my knees lock and muscles knot. Part of me wanted to flee back to the tower. “What the hells does that mean?” I barked back, refusing to let him see me weak and fearful.
“I’ll give you five minutes before I begin my hunt for you.”
My mouth went dry. “And what will you do if you find me?”
“Payback, Wychthorn, for the godsdamned brunnie you set upon us,” he snarled. He stared upward as if he could see through the ceiling to the upper levels of the Keep. “It won’t be long before we trap it.” The bloodthirsty gaze leveled at me sent terror flooding through my entire body. “If you fail to find the escape tunnel and I capture you in the library, I’ll drag you up there and toss you right in its path. The beast’s all riled up now, and I imagine it’ll be eager to tear you in half.”
Oh my gods…
He was deadly serious.
Perspiration flashed along my hairline as I considered what the hells to do. Jett remained quiet for a long moment before he arched a brow and spoke. “I’ve started counting, rat. Less than five minutes to go before I hunt you down.”
My skirt whirled wide as I spun around and fled.
Behind me came a heavy…clang…clang…clang…of Jett striking his blade against the adamere wall, the rhythm perfectly timed with his silent countdown.
I hurtled through the Keep, through the hallways and the gallery with all those stoic faces of the Crowthers’ ancestors staring at me through oil paint edged in gold, Tabitha with her earthy fingers and breezy smile, mocking me as I sprinted past.
There was a split decision I needed to make—should I run to the tower as Graysen had urged if ever I was in trouble?
But there would be Ferne and too many soldiers between me and it.
And besides, ultimately, I had to find that godsdamned escape passage.
I burst into the library. The brothers had certainly amused themselves, leaving me alone to rummage through here hoping to discover the escape tunnel. Fucking bastards!
At least now I knew for sure it was somewhere in here. But could I find it in five minutes?
I skidded to a jittering halt, trying to remember where I’d already searched and how many books were left to check. The place was gigantic, and ancient tomes filled every wall and shelf.
Too many, too many…
How much time did I have left? Three or two minutes before Jett would make his appearance and claim me? He’d drag me, kicking and screaming, and toss me in the path of the brunnie.
Where…where…where…?
I headed to a wall I was sure I hadn’t previously checked and started pulling books from the shelf. My fingers wrapped around each book—tug, fall, move on, tug, fall, move on…
They spilled onto the ground in a chorus of thuds.
The floor behind me was left in great big swells of books.
