Rune.
Golden markings shimmering up his thick neck. Somehow he’s bigger out here, as if he’ll take up all the space the sky will give him. His eyes glow like blue flame, the playfulness at odds with his rough voice. I fight, trying to knee him, trying to get my arms free, but it’s like being encased in marble. He squeezes until my chest feels like it will implode with need for breath, but when I still, his grip loosens, if only a little.
I angle the bone shiv in my hand, prepared to fight to the death as he drags me back down to the cell.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, his eyes bore into mine, shining with curiosity. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”
I swallow, seeing no reason to lie. “No.”
The edge of his mouth twitches, and when he lets go, his gaze pins me in place, freezing my feet despite how my heart races, and when I don’t move, he offers a predator’s smile, sending a thrill of something I don’t dare name arcing right towards my middle.
His attention flicks over me from head to toe, compounding the issue. For a moment, his attention stalls on the bone in my hand. “It’s my turn to set the terms.”
I should fight him. Should sink this makeshift blade into his groin and run. But the tension in the air doesn’t feel like violence, and if he wants to set terms, it means he’s been thinking about the map as much as I have.
“You can try.” I don’t let my voice waver. Even with my blood pounding in my ears, drowning out the screeching seagulls above. Even with the animal in me whispering, always whispering.
Run.
His smile stretches impossibly wider, revealing canines as sharp as a shark’s. “Escape me now, and you’re free. On my honour, I won’t pursue you. But if I catch you, you return willingly, and then you’re trapped here until you prove the treasure is real, or I toss you overboard.”
My mind trips over itself, trying to absorb the words. Is it a joke? A trap? Freedom, just like that. They brought me here. And he’s letting me go? But he doesn’t give my racing thoughts much time.
“I’ll give you the count of three.” He steps to the side, revealing the gangplank and empty street beyond. When I don’t move, he draws the bone dagger at his hip. “This is what you wanted. Now’s your chance.” Another second passes, and the next time he speaks, it’s a frustratedgrowl. “Sorun, Odelia.”
The shock of the word echoes through me a split second before my legs bound into action. The map, the treasure, it all leaves my mind as he calls out behind me, true to his word.
“One!”
The wood of the dock pounds under my feet, then I fly over old cobblestone.
“Two!”
The shadows of the warehouses engulf me, but it won’t be enough to hide. I’ve got to outpace him.
“Three!”
I can’t help but look back. He clears the gangplank in a single leap, his long legs eating the ground between us.
Adrenaline shoots me forwards like a cannonball, and I take the most crowded alley I can find, dodging parked wagons and empty crates. With any luck, it might slow him down.
Something explodes behind me, banishing the hope. His steps pound the cobblestone, echoing off the sleepy buildings. I swerve, taking a last minute left. Anything to get farther from the docks. Air saws in and out of my lungs, straining my barely healed throat. I haven’t had the chance to run like this since I was a child, and the exhilaration mingles with fear in my veins. Fear of what, I don’t know. All of it. The ocean. The past. The way my hands will never be clean and what that means for this dream that steps back every time I think it’s in reach.
Rune is the least of my fears. This whole race is a game. A test—for both of us.
On the next street, there’s a tavern with people spilling out the door. Some exclaim as I dart past and the shouts grow louder, making me assume they’ve spotted Rune as well.
I veer right, trying to find my way out of the town. There’s no cobblestone here, just packed earth and small gardens rowed with green that blurs as I pass. With enough practice in my other form I would probably be faster, but it’s been too long, and shifting now would likely end with me rolled in the dirt in a tangle of legs.
I dart down the space between two buildings, so narrow each step grazes my shoulder to a wall on either side. When a shadow darkens the other side, my stomach drops even as I goup,scaling the houses with just the strength of my toes and fingertips. The top is wood, not thatch, thank the sea’s mercy. Or the land’s mercy?
I don’t have time to ponder the turn of phrase, because when I reach the top, he’s climbing the opposite building, that damn smile still plastered to his face. The strange tattoos on his arms and neck glimmer even more now. His shirt is tighter than the last, short sleeved and hugging the kind of muscle you’d expect from a sailor or bounty hunter or whatever he is.
Back to the race, Odelia.
Before he gains his feet I jump to the next house, slipping on clay shingles. If he’s not careful, he’s going to break that pretty neck. Instead of fighting the fall, I let go, rolling as the ground comes up to meet me.
