“And we will not be marching over open grounds.” She gave a glance at Cason, one not entirely apologetic, but filled with a promise of making it up to him later. When she could. Her gaze shifted back to the city. “We’ll be traveling under them.”
* * *
The tunnel had gone undiscovered.Brela didn’t bother hiding her whimpering noise of relief as Elias nudged the rock out of the way, revealing the entrance just tall enough to fit the horses without riders.
Her people could have escaped. They could have made it to the valley away from the soldiers and run far away from this place. A chance to live another day.
Where they went was not a question she had time to think about now. Nor did she have time to think about the last time she was in one of these tunnels.
She ducked into the circular room that made the last waiting space before escape, observing the chests that had been emptied of supplies. Good. People took the food and clothing and left when it was safe.
With the last bit of sunlight, she found the torches and merely waved them in front of Cason as he entered the cramped room, his horse complaining the entire time. She didn’t dare look at him longer than she had to, mumbling her thanks when he lit them with his fire before she faced the tunnel.
Even with the shadows reaching down the twists and curves, she still couldn’t feel anything at the end. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. Whether they’d reach the manors and not find an exit, or if they’d reach the end and she would find something she wasn’t ready to face.
“We’ve got to start walking or we won’t fit in this room with the horses,” Farrah whispered, setting a gentle hand on Brela’s shoulder. Her blue eyes shimmered with understanding. “Moonheart is good with tight spaces. Go until the last door, right?”
Brela could only nod, her fists clenching and loosening with each breath.
Elias poked his head inside and gave her a similar look. “I’ll close this behind me and take up the rear.”
Farrah gave Brela’s shoulder a squeeze and took the torch from her as she led Moonheart a few steps down the tunnel. Like a silent tug, Brela stepped forward before she could turn and run away, dragging her horse who resisted slightly, as if it could feel her hesitation. Serill took up his place behind her as Elias hid the tunnel entrance and the last bit of sunlight became darkness.
Only their torches and horses made any noise, Cason’s mount complaining the most when the passageway became more narrow. Brela was inclined to agree with his horse, but Farrah’s continued glances over her shoulder forced her to keep a brave face. She kept her gaze trained forward, not on the walls that closed tighter and tighter, squeezing the air from her lungs. Tried not to curl her shoulders inward at the threatening, heavy darkness.
This. This is what would make her sick, to hurl up nothing but stomach acid. Sweat dripped down her neck, cold and hot at the same time. She shivered, desperate to wrap a blanket around her but also rip off every piece of fabric that touched her skin. Even her hair prickled and weighed her down.
Breathing. When did breathing get so difficult? It was like a hand, digging and gripping at her throat. Restricting airflow. She stumbled over feet that weighed more than a ton of bricks. Her vision blurred, and she could have sworn Ovir stood in front of her, blue eyes hungry as his fingers tightened—
“Hey, someone up there,” Elias whispered loudly from the back. “Has anyone noticed that Brela’s not breathing?”
“What?” Serill blurted.
Crushing. Gods, she couldn’t suck in enough air. Her legs didn’t move, couldn’t move, yet she was spinning. Or was she falling?
Warmth wrapped around her hand and tugged it away from her throat. She yanked back, gasped for air and tried to claw at her neck, but it held firm.
And then she felt it.
One squeeze. Two. A soft pulse, like a heartbeat through her palm.
Three. Four.
“You know,” the voice began to her left. Not Ovir’s voice. “I was so incredibly grumpy at the auction because Serill was being a pain in my ass.”
Eight. Nine. Brela pulled in a breath that actually reached her lungs.
The voice continued. “He and Boelyn were teasing me because I have no capacity to have fun, nor the capabilities to flirt with women. Boelyn had to order me to get a drink and not lean against that pillar all night.”
Nineteen. Twenty. Her head cleared just enough to realize the fire wielder was the one standing next to her.
Serill spoke from somewhere behind them. “To which you replied that there were twenty-nine others you were going to visit.”
Cason chuckled and continued to squeeze in rhythm. “And then you walked in, and I swear I thought I was dreaming. The dress was something spectacular, but thatsmirk. Four hells, it broke my ability to function.”
Brela kept counting the subtle pressure Cason sent into her hand, letting him tug her forward. To take one step after the other.
“And then our dear friend Serill somehow weaseled his way past my perimeter because I was so gods-damned distracted by you. I thought I was going to setmyselfon fire from embarrassment when I realized you had known I was watching you. Then I considered setting Serill on fire for some of the things he said about me.”
