And the other end of the long rope falls out of the barrel.
I cry out in panic.
Throwing the torch aside, I sprint forward. I was supposed to go back and check that this was the right corridor, but now I don’t have time. I need to fix the rope.
With my heart hammering against my ribs, I race down the corridor. As soon as I reach the other end of the rope, I yank it up and then shove it back down into the liquid. After making sure that it stays there this time, I cast one last desperate look back at the doorway that may or may not have been the right one.
Then I take off down the hallway and pray to Mabona and every god who will listen that I’m right.
Corridors and rooms flash past on either side of me as I race through the basement while panic clangs like giant bells inside my skull. I take the same turns I did last time, but since the hallways all look the same and I didn’t have enough time tomemorize what the different rooms looked like, I have no idea if I’m going in the right direction or not.
Please let it be right. Please let it be right.
Another doorway appears up ahead.
I throw myself through it.
And slam right into Isera.
She sucks in a sharp breath as I crash into her from the side, and both of us tumble down on the floor from the force of the collision. Pain pulses through my hip as I land on some of the books that Alistair tossed aside earlier when he ripped down the shelf. But all I can feel is the immense relief that flows through me when I scramble onto my knees to find both Isera and Alistair there.
“Mabona’s tits, Selena,” Isera huffs as she pushes herself into a sitting position as well. “You couldn’t?—”
She abruptly stops speaking right in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes widen in shock as she stares down at one of the books she almost landed on top of.
Confused, I follow her gaze.
A thick tome is lying there on the floor, and on the front, the title reads:Register of Fae Life Slaves.
Isera yanks the book towards her and flips open the cover right at the same time as Orion skids into the room.
“Done,” he announces. “Let’s go.”
I scramble up from the floor, but Isera remains there on her knees.
Emotions pulse across her entire face as she starts frantically flipping through the pages.
“Isera,” Orion growls. “We need to go.”
She doesn’t even seem to hear him.
“Now!” Alistair snaps, and reaches for her arm.
She yanks it out of his grip, ice curling like spikes along her arms. Alistair stumbles back, wide-eyed, but makes no move to grab her again.
Paper rustles as she shoves sections of pages back. Then a snarl rips from her throat and she slams the book over on the other side and starts from the back instead.
“Just bring the whole book!” Alistair yells.
I whip my gaze down at the pocket watch. We now only have ten minutes to make it up from the basement, through the castle, and out of the blast radius before this entire palace explodes. This is going to be tight.
“Isera,” I call. “We?—”
She sucks in a hiss. The pages fall open to reveal a drawing of a woman who looks almost identical to Isera. Lots of text is written on the other side. Pain crackles across Isera’s features, but she takes a firm grip on both pages and then rips them out of the book.
“Run,” she says as she leaps to her feet and shoves the pieces of paper into the pocket of her fighting leathers.
None of us hesitate.
