A large frame with eyes of orange and black, hidden beneath an executioner’s mask. Their gazes locked. Faintly, she knew that she could accidentally kill him. That this magic was too far gone, her rage and guilt and grief and pain muddling the lines between rationality and reactivity.
But Reid of Mireh did not look afraid.
He breathed. His chest rose and fell. Her magic adjusted, it made room for him, it welcomed him inside the prison she’dcreated for herself. A place where she could harm everyone, and no one could touch her.
It let him in.Shelet him in.
He met her where she stood. His hand raised and settled on her cheek. “Let it go,” he whispered. “Run with me. Live with me. Let me give you everything the world should have given you sooner.”
Her magic stuttered. She gained a semblance of control over her body, like her weight had a foothold on the stones beneath her again. She looked at what she could see of Reid’s face, at the familiar curves and lines of it. And then suddenly she was there again, on that platform at the Icrurian election, their future playing out behind her eyes.
A future she could have, if she only let herself.
Vaasa took a grounding breath, then with everything she had, hauled the magic back within.
It slammed into her body as if she’d been thrown from a great height. She screamed in blinding pain. She stumbled back and fell, hands scraping the stones beneath her, tearing through her skin.
Reid hauled her to her feet as she gasped down air, the pain transforming into a sharp awareness of her surroundings.
“Run for the port,” Reid commanded. “I’ll guard your back.”
Vaasa took off in a sprint. She panted, arms pumping, the people in the square parting and fleeing from her. The sentinels and city guard were all behind her now, all dead or dying or injured. She looked over her shoulder to see Reid running, someone hot on his heels, and they raised a sword.
A scream broke from her lips.
Red hair came flying from the left, and the man went tumbling to the ground, steel clattering, Sachia rolling with him until they hit the wall Reid had perched on earlier. The piratesprang to her feet and ran, leaping over a body as she went, blood dripping down her face.
Reid’s hand wound around Vaasa’s and tugged. She raced to the edge of the square, past the platform that held the iron pole. They scaled the sea-facing side of the Sanctum until the fiery port came into view.
A loud whistle sounded from their right, and Sachia darted toward the stone parapet that lined the ocean. Reid led Vaasa that way. Their footsteps pounded against the stone. Sachia threw herself over the parapet, body dangling by her hands, and then dropped.
Vaasa’s stomach hit the parapet and she peered over. A small tender floated in the water just feet away, far enough from the flame-consumed port that they had a clear path out into the bay. Sachia swam to it.
“Go,” Reid instructed.
Stone cut into Vaasa’s waist as she pulled herself over the side of the parapet and fell, the icy water below soaking into her dress as it swallowed her. She broke the surface with ease and kicked. The hem of her gown tangled with her legs, but she swam as well as she could, crossing the mere feet until she reached the boat. Arms came down and hauled her up, the dress heavy and threatening to pull her back, but she finally slid over the side.
“Get down,” Sachia commanded as the boat rocked, two people Vaasa didn’t recognize reaching for Reid. He was up and over in seconds, and then Vaasa hit the deck, rolling beneath a bench seat. She shivered. Reid rolled into her, clung to her, their breaths coming in and out in tandem. Blankets were thrown over them as the tender carved a path into the Iron Bay.
CHAPTER
39
Vaasa waited. She could hardly think as the boat rocked on the waves, heading for the prison. Her mind spun as magic clawed at her insides, seeking more to feed from. She reached into the pocket of her dress and gripped the necklace with a barely audible sigh, one of her fingers dragging along the set of keys she’d tucked next to it. Relief flooded her—they weren’t lost.
Her magic sputtered out at first contact with the necklace, her body quiet for a moment though dread curled low in her stomach.
The last of the day’s light broke through the smoky haze as Vaasa’s blankets were pulled off her, revealing the sky to heronce again. Sachia sat on the seat across from them, and Reid sat up. He hauled his executioner’s mask off.
They weren’t being chased, then. The port was distracted, engulfed in flames.
Sachia started rummaging through one of the storage latches, pulling out a bundle of clothing. It was a uniform meant for a sentinel. “Change into these.”
Vaasa tucked her hand into her sopping pocket and then unfurled them, displaying the keys. She wondered for just a moment if Roman had managed to escape. The thought of him burning, the sound of his screams…
“Wait,” Sachia said. “Are those the keys to the prison?”
“I don’t know everything he had access to, but I think so. In case you struggle with your magic, we have a backup plan.”
