“Yet here you are,” she shot back.
A pause. “I told you I’d come.” He spoke like he was gasping for air. “Blasted lantern ran out of oil.”
She bit back a smile at how he’d misunderstood her criticism as surprise that he’d kept his word and come when she’d meant he was wasting time here in the middle of the tunnel. She decided to needle him in a way he could not mistake. “And you’re afraid of the dark.”
“I’m not afraid!” he snapped. “I’m fine.”
His voice came from below her. Was he on the ground? “You’re not fine. I could hear you unraveling. How long have you been here?” When he didn’t answer, she softened her tone. “Breathe, Kurtz. Slowly in, slowly out.” She crouched and reached out until she found his shoulder—he was sitting or kneeling. She placed both hands on his face. “Focus on me. On my breathing. Match it.” She breathed in for three seconds and held it. Then exhaled for three.
Kurtz breathed with her, reached up and covered her gloved hand with his, drawing a shiver through her. They stayed like that a few seconds longer than they probably should have.
Quietly, tentatively, Kurtz said, “ZolZanna?”
He’d never said her full name before, and she liked it more than she cared to admit.
“You’re going to have to trust me,” she said.
When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “I can do this. Just…lead the way, eh?”
Sure, now he was fine. His pride wouldn’t let him admit otherwise. Zanna bit back a sigh. Typical Kurtz. Embarrassed at being caught broken, then annoyed about being embarrassed. Still, if pride was what kept him moving, she could work with that.
“Hold on to me.” She stretched her arm down, her hand searching the air until it struck his forearm. His strong fingers closed around her wrist, the grip almost too tight, like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.
With her free hand braced against the wall, Zanna started back toward the prison, towing Kurtz behind her like a ship dragging its anchor. His breathing steadied with every step, and despite herself, Zanna grinned.
This was going to be interesting.
Zanna pressed back against the damp stone wall, holding her breath as a pair of guards trudged past the entryway to the fifth floor. She glanced at Kurtz, who stood on the other side of the opening. Hand tight on the hilt of his dagger, he peeked out, then nodded.
Zanna went first, striding along the fifth-floor landing like she belonged on this level. Kurtz followed, their steps clicking in unison as they made their way past the cell doors on the right.
Over the waist-high rail on Zanna’s left, the atrium yawned out, a vast diamond-shaped void plunging to the yard below. Railings curved around each floor in perfect symmetry, drawing the eye up and down the towering space. Every level mirrored the last—identical walkways, narrow cell doors. Distant voices and the faint clatter of chains were nearly swallowed by the sheer height of the space.
Crispen’s cell was two from the end of a narrow corner, just before the walkway flipped around to the other side. A guard would be positioned there, would see them coming. Zanna only hoped he’d ask questions first before calling for help.
Sure enough, as they neared, a figure approached. A torch lit the guard’s face just long enough for her to recognize Revik Tagg.
Her stomach twisted.
“You know him?” Kurtz asked from behind her.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she whispered. “He’s smaller than most guards, but has a crude fixation on me.”
“Can we use that?”
The thought made it feel like worms were crawling over her body, but she swallowed hard and said, “I’ll try.”
“Then I’ll hang back a bit,” Kurtz said.
Wonderful. Tagg strode toward her, his gait casual, but his dark eyes gleamed in a way that made her cringe. She stopped and forced herself to hold still as his gaze roamed over her.
“Well, now, Anna Tankel, this ain’t your floor.” His grin was all teeth. “Decided to take me up on my offer at last?”
What would Mistel do? Zanna curled her lips into a playful smirk, pretending his very presence didn’t turn her stomach. She traced a finger down the front of his uniform. “Couldn’t stop thinking about it. But…maybe somewhere a little more private?”
His smirk widened. “Knew you’d come around.” He leaned in, the stench of ale thick on his breath, and reached for her waist. “Couldn’t resist me, huh?”
Kurtz cleared his throat.
