“Well, you’re close.” She points beyond the cells. “You’re nearly there. Go through that door and you’ll find it.”
Gin tugs on my arm and motions to the other cells filled with Ophir prisoners.
“There’s no time,” I whisper. “We can’t unchain them all and get the relics before the Blackcoats catch us.”
Silva overhears. “You must. Or else they’ll be used in the tournament. Look, just help free a few of them and then we’ll help each other.”
“Gin set the arena on fire,” I say. “There is no more tournament.”
Silva shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Once the fire’s put out, it will be business as usual. Nothing will come between them and their bloodlust. They have guests to entertain. They throw the biggest party in Lacon every year. There are expectations. A reputation to maintain. And whenever there’s a rebellion, they make the spectacle twice as big to prove a point. It will be up and running in no time. Once they assure the audience that all is well, it will be back to the usual. Or even worse.”
Right. Of course I can’t leave all these people to face the same fate I almost did. I try the key on another cell. It doesn’t fit. Same for the next, and the next. “This is the wrong key. Where are the others?”
Silva wrings her hands. “I don’t know.”
The Ophir prisoners are a sorry bunch. They don’t even look back at me. They have no hope left; their eyes are blank, empty. If I abandon them, they’ll die. The vision of Uncle, betrayed and bleeding out, flashes through my mind, the way it has over and over again ever since the trials, nonstop, alongside the promise I made, to never do that again. And never again is right now, or else my promise means nothing.
“Come on, we did what we could. We need the relics,” Gin insists. “Without those,allthe Ophir are doomed. If we save them and fail to secure the relics, it’s all for naught.”
She isn’t wrong. But I can’t abandon them. I think of Uncle. I can’t do that again.
“You go,” I tell her. “You head to the vault.”
“Alone?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’ll stay here with the prisoners in case guards return to take them. Until we can get them all out.”
“No. I’m not going without you,” she says, her voice raised, in either anger or panic. Likely both. “I can’t do it without you. You’re the thief, remember?”
“Of course you can,” I say patiently. “You don’t need me to pick a lock. Not when you can break one with your mind.”
“But—but—” Then I see the fear in her eyes. She thinks that if she goes to the vault and leaves me here, I’ll die trying to defend the prisoners.
“I’ll be all right,” I tell her. “I promise. Now go. Get the relics.”
“What about you?”
“I’m a thief, remember? If anyone can steal these people out of here, it’s me,” I say with a grin.
She grits her jaw as she looks from me to the prisoners and back again, clearly torn.
“Go to the vault and collect the relics. I’ll meet you and Darius at the eastern garden as planned. Hurry, it’s almost sundown.”
“Okay. You’ll be there?” Her eyes are hopeful, searching.
I want to reach out and hold her, but I resist. If we have a dramatic farewell, it feels permanent. Instead, I conjure my most charming smile and say, “Yeah. Of course I will. I’ll be there.”
Then, I can’t help it. The pull toward her is too strong, magnetic, inevitable. I step closer, and she comes willingly, falling into my arms like she was always meant to be there. I cradle her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks, memorizing the shape of her, the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers. How strange to think I didn’t know her just a few days ago. And yet, somehow, I feel like I’ve known her forever—that I’ve spent my whole life waiting for this exact moment, forher.
She tilts her face up to mine, her eyes wide and searching, and for a beat the world holds its breath. My heart pounds like a war drum in my chest, and then I lean in, closing the last inch between us. Our lips meet, and the kiss is electric—lightning cracks through me, flashing from her mouth to mine, igniting something deep in my core. It’s as if fireworks are exploding behind my eyes, and the whole world falls away, shrinking to this single, perfect moment. Her hands clutch at my shoulders and I pull her closer, deepening the kiss, because I don’t want to stop, not yet, not ever.
When she pulls away, lightning is glowing in her eyes, little streaks of gold. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You better be there. The eastern garden. Sundown.” Then, without another word, Gin runs off into the dark, alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUREBAN
“Quickly,” I order Silva once Gin disappears from sight. “We have very little time.”
