“Shit.” Rell’s arm tightened around Elora as he began backing up, dragging her with him step by step. “You’re making this very difficult,” he said, though a teasing edge still laced his tone. “But I think I’ve got something you don’t.”
Rell leaned in close, his breath brushing against her ear. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.
“What?” she hissed.
“Just do it,” he snapped, sharper this time. Elora obeyed and squeezed her eyes shut.
“What could you possibly have, mercenary?” Fane snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin.
“A good exit strategy.”
A second later, a blinding flash of light exploded behind Elora’s closed eyelids, followed by a loud, ear-splitting crack. Fane grunted, stumbling back with a string of curses as the light disoriented him, his massive frame colliding with the narrow walls of the alley.
Rell didn’t wait. He released Elora, but grabbed her by the wrist instead. She gasped in shock, her protest dying in her throat as he took off at a sprint.
“Come on.” He tossed a glass vial behind them.
It shattered, and the alley exploded with the sound of pounding footsteps, the echoes bouncing off the walls in every direction. Itsounded like a dozen people were fleeing, their phantom steps mixing with their real ones.
“Decoys,” Rell said, as he veered into a side alley.
Elora barely had time to process what was happening before he ducked into a nearby building, kicking the door shut behind them. The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by their ragged breathing.
Rell didn’t stop. He dragged her up a flight of narrow stairs, each step creaking, before pushing open a door to a small, faintly lit room.
He finally let go of her and Elora stumbled from the momentum. Her heart was still racing, her breaths coming in short gasps. She backed away from him until her back hit a wall, her mind still catching up to what had just happened.
“What the hell was that?” she managed to choke out.
Rell rested against the door, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips. “You’re an escaped ward from The Institute, aren’t you?”
Elora stiffened, her blood running cold.
“You’re not worth two hundred gold for nothing,” he continued, his dark eyes fixed on her. “Rumors are flying about an escaped ward on the loose. Didn’t think I’d stumble across her in the flesh, though.”
“Are you going to turn me in?” She clutched her satchel like it could save her if he tried anything.
Rell tilted his head, his smirk softening, though the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Nah,” he said, his tone casual. “I’m not interested in the money.”
His fingers tapped lightly against his arm, his gaze flicking briefly to her satchel before returning to her face. “But I think there’s something else you can offer me. I need a good alchemist.”
The chaos of the last few minutes—the alley, Fane, the bounty—had left her reeling. And now this. She crossed her arms tightly, ignoring the tremble in her hands. “So, what?” she snapped. “You ‘rescue’ me just to drag me up here and act like I owe you something?”
Rell chuckled. “Owe me? Oh no, Elora, you’ve got it all wrong. You don’t owe me a damn thing.” He stepped aside, gesturing toward the door with a sweeping motion. “Door’s right there. If you think you can handle Eron Fane on your own, be my guest.”
She considered bolting but the memory of Fane’s hulking figure advancing on her stopped her cold. She didn’t move, and Rell raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. He was enjoying this, damn him.
“Thought so,” he said as he leaned back against the door again. “I’m not forcing you to do anything, Elora. But unless you’ve got some secret army hidden in your satchel, your options are pretty limited.”
She hated the way he said her name, like he already had the upper hand. Elora swallowed hard, the image of Fane’s cold, assessing gaze flashing in her mind. She couldn’t stand that Rell was right, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, she straightened, lifting her chin. “Fine,” she said sharply. “What do you want? Let’s just get this over with.”
There was a flicker of something sharper in his expression now, curiosity, maybe even interest. “What I want,” he said slowly, “is to make a deal. You’re an alchemist, aren’t you?”
Elora hesitated but finally nodded.
“My organization recently lost its alchemist here in Ravenpoint,” he said, gesturing to his belt, where vials of various shapes and sizes hung loosely. Some were cracked, their contents long gone, while others looked dangerously low. “Let’s just say that’s made things complicated for us. I’ve been making do with what I’ve got left, but I’m running out. Fast. And I could use someone like you.”
Elora frowned, confused. “What do you mean, someone like me? Are there no other alchemists in Ravenpoint?”
