I grunted a no. “I did not mean to suggest we torture him. Not yet.” Then I quirked up one side of my mouth. “Even if we were to take such measures, we would wait for our battle chief’s return.”
My majak exhaled, clearly relieved that we would not be taking even the smallest step to replace Kolt.
“We will get him back,” I growled. “I swear to Lokken and the gods of old. We will get both of them back—then we will make the Zagrath pay.”
Chapter
Sixteen
Skye
Even with a head start, there was no way we were going to remain free if we didn’t get off the streets and make Kolt look less like a Vandar. I eyed the nearly seven-foot-tall alien with dark swirls spooled across his bare chest and a tail that slashed anxiously behind him. Not to mention the leather kilt and thick boots. There was nothing about this guy that made him easy to hide.
So far, we hadn’t run into many of the locals, but that was because we’d kept to back alleys. It couldn’t last forever, and soon word would be out that escaped prisoners were on the loose. Already, distant sirens and muffled shouting put me on high alert. How long until soldiers tracked us down?
I glanced up at the clothes dangling overhead. “Can you grab that?”
Kolt flicked his gaze to the air-drying garments, reaching one arm up to snatch a white cloak that looked only moderately damp. “This?”
“We need to cover up all your…” I flapped a hand at his markings. “Vanderness.”
His dark brows pressed together. “Vanderness?”
I glanced over my shoulder, certain that someone would come around the corner and spot us at any second. “Didn’t you notice the locals? They don’t appear to have tails or tattoos.”
Kolt touched a hand to his markings. “These are not tattoos. Vandar are born with?—”
“I know, I know, but they don’t know because they’ve probably never seen a Vandar before.” I sighed out a hot breath. “How long until they spread the word that a dangerous, tailed alien is on the loose and we’re caught?”
His scowl deepened, and he attempted to put on the cloak. The fabric strained across his shoulders, and the front didn’t come close to closing. Still, for now, it was better than nothing.
“It’s wet,” he said.
I touched the fabric covering one bicep, trying to ignore how hard the muscle was underneath. “It’s not sopping wet.”
He grunted, clearly unhappy.
“We’ll find something better,” I said as I waved for him to follow me. “But right now, we need to move.”
He didn’t argue as we continued down the alley and turned, ducking into the alcove of a doorway so a couple could pass. I pushed Kolt behind me so his imposing figurewould be less noticeable. Still, I wasn’t crazy about the curious looks we were getting.
As much as I tried to steer us away from the sounds of crowds, it felt like we were going deeper and deeper into a maze. I’d lost all sense of direction or even if we were still heading away from the prison.
“I think soldiers are behind us,” Kolt said.
“Why do you…?” I started to ask before I heard it—heavy boots pounding the ground accompanied by barked orders. He was right. They were closing in from behind.
My pulse jackknifed as I hurried forward, leading us closer to the sound of people laughing and jeering. I should have been trying to avoid crowds, but the alternative was soldiers, so crowds it would have to be.
The next narrow street was packed with people, and I hesitated for a beat. Kolt walked into me, his body a strange mixture of hard, warm muscle and damp fabric.
“Keep moving,” he husked, bending his head low so that his mouth buzzed my ear. “The crowd will provide cover.”
I wasn’t sure if they could hide his bulk, but Kolt bent down, curling around me from behind so that his head no longer poked above everyone else’s. We allowed the surge of people to carry us forward, even though I wasn’t sure where we were going with the throngs of locals. I peered ahead, spotting tall doors leading to some kind of stadium or theatre.
My chest tightened. Once we were inside, we’d be trapped. I spied an alley that ran beside the building, and my gaze snagged on the symbol that had been etched into the bench. Itook it as a sign and maneuvered us through the crush of people until we were spit out into the alley.
I didn’t bother to look behind and track the approaching soldiers. I hurried down the dank, narrow space that reeked of fetid water and urine and prayed it wasn’t a dead end.
