My heart stops.
No.No. No. Will. No. All this. I’ve come all this way. We tried so hard. Don’t. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone here.
“Will,” I cry, crawling toward the hole in the bars,heavingmyself on. My chest is a heavy stone. I’ll get to him even if every second is a roar of agony. Even if it takes everything. I’m not leaving him.
“Will.”
The flood has broken me and I’m bawling, gasping through tears. Please. I don’t want to die. I don’t want him to die.Please.
Will’s limp hand twitches. He pushes himself up on his elbow and chokes on a cough. Blood splatters on the stone floor as I wail in relief. The sight of him breathing, moving—I’d trade anything for it. He ignores his injuries and throws himself through the gap, wrapping himself around me immediately. I whimper, too exhausted to cry anymore. Too relieved to say a word. His chest is pounding. Alive.
“I’ve got you. You’re not dying on me today,” he rasps, and picks me up like he did the day he carried me into the cottage. In his arms, I reach up and use my thumb to smudge the blood flowing out of his ear.
“Will, you’re bleeding a lot,” I mumble.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, and smiles down at me, attempting a glimmer of his usual self. “Don’t worry.”
I’m a frayed floss of cotton, unable to speak or think or move, so I bury myself into his chest. He can do it. He can get us home.
We get as far as the nearest side entrance when the emergency horn destroys the quiet. Will startles and grips me tight as the clockwork of the castle churns to life—the distant echoing of the emergency bell, shouts from rallying guards, that metal grinding on metal.
There’s a waft of magic that sputters out and Will’s voice strains. “Stay awake, Fliss. Just a little longer.”
The cool night air is a welcome gift as he sprints, not toward the castle courtyard, but straight for the surrounding wall.
“Halt!” It’s Ava.
Will keeps running. He summons a breeze. It fades away. It dies like snow on a fire.
“Fuck.”
A few feet from the stone wall, Will whips around and faces the handful of guards who’ve caught up to us. They stand in a curved formation, blocking any escape.
“Evening,” he greets them.
I wonder what they see. A boy, the ends of his brown curlsmatted with blood and terror beating in his chest? The trembling in the hands that carry me?
Or someone to be hunted? Feared?
“Put Fliss down right now,” Ava orders. There’s the sound of a sword being drawn.
“Come now, Captain. That wouldn’t be sensible,” Will teases, but I can hear the edge to his voice. He’s almost as starved and spent as I am.
Bastion runs free of the line of guards in an oversized coat, just like the night in Will’s memory. In his hurry, the prince must have forgotten his sword. Regardless, Will takes a step back. His heart hammers against my ear and the wind starts to weave itself around us like Gill between our feet, building slowly while Will recuperates his strength.
“How the fuck did you get out?” Bastion seethes.
“You forget that I’m incredibly talented.”
“Let Fliss go.”
“Oh, her?” Will says, like he hadn’t even noticed he was holding me. He uses the moment to adjust his grip and lift me a little higher, stalling for more time. “Huh.”
“This isn’t a game, Will. She might die!”
“I know that,” Will says, his inflection suddenly sharp. “Don’t be an idiot. What do you think I’m doing? Do you wantmoredeath on your hands?”
Bash, interestingly, isn’t spurred to anger. Through heavy lids, I watch the realization dawn on him. He knows where Will plans to take me and knows Ruth might be my best chance.
