I rush to the next, working quickly to pop the lock open. The footsteps pound overhead.
I run from cell to cell. They’re coming. Any second they’ll be here. I rush the rest of the prisoners out, until all the cells are empty. I’m the only one left. I did it.
But before I can move, I hear a voice behind me.
“Well, would you look at the dirty Ophir thief, caught in action. How rare to get such a treat.”
I spin around to see a man standing in the entryway, flanked by two bodyguards.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” the man says. “You must be Eban. The great thief, the Shadow of the Sleeve, they say. Or as you’re called around here, the Weasel. A coward who can’t even pay his debts.”
The botched heist. So that’s why that failed. It was a setup, just like this one. I would never have hit a Laconian gaming hall otherwise. I should have known that job was a trap. And now here is the one holding it. I stare him down and realize I’ve seen him before. “And you must be Rollo. Or as Gin calls you, the liar.”
“Does she now?”
“She knows exactly who you are.”
Rollo laughs. “I don’t think so.”
A group of Blackcoats enter the room. Far too many for me to have the slightest hope of taking them all on.
“The relics aren’t down here, though I’m sure you already know that.” Rollo gestures around at the now empty prison cells. “Just looking for extra work, or…?” He chuckles again, then looks at me intently. “Anyway, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Eban. I know how badly you want the relics. How you think you’re going to pull off the biggest heist in Lacon history and bring the relics back to Ophir, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to disabuse you of that notion.”
I fight to keep the shock from registering on my face. How does Rollo possibly know about the plan? About the relics? Did he already capture Gin and torture the information out of her? Or is he bluffing? “Where is Gin?” I demand.
“Actually, I was hoping she’d be with you,” Rollo says, and strangely, I believe he’s telling the truth. Which means he hasn’t captured her—yet.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll find her soon enough. Whatever you think you’re going to do, just let it go. Don’t waste your time. Or mine, for that matter.” He raises his hand and waves his fingers, like he’s summoning another glass of wine at dinner. On cue, the guards draw their swords and step toward me.
I pick up the only weapon I have—a pipe. Metal meets metal with a reverberatingclang. For a few seconds I think I may actually hold them off, until Rollo, with a bored expression, orders the Blackcoats forward. “Finish this.”
I’m surrounded.
I spin out of the way of one sword, meeting another with the pipe. I still have a chance, if I make a break for it at the right moment. I might even get to Gin before they do. Newly invigorated by that spark of hope, I let out a guttural yell and charge at a Blackcoat, managing to knock him out of the way.
Right as I’m about to bound up the steps, a hand reaches out and grabs my leg, pulling me backward. I hit the floor hard, the wind knocked out of me.
Two soldiers grab me by the arms and lift me as I gasp for air, pain shooting through my bruised torso.
They yank my arms behind my back as I struggle to find my breath. While they tie my hands together, Rollo gets in my face. “You’re never going to see daylight again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVEGIN
I delve deeper into the underground passage, and soon I don’t hear the prisoners or Eban and Silva’s attempts to free them. The lamps that are lit are even fewer here, likely to deter anyone from stumbling onto the vault. I move slowly, back against the wall, listening for movement, for any sign of estate guards or Blackcoats. My nose twitches; I hold in the sneeze. Dust. Doubt creeps in. How can this way lead to the vault if it hasn’t been disturbed in so long? I wonder if that’s why most of the oil lamps are all cold and dark—if I’m actually going the wrong way once again.
No use in turning around until I know for sure, though. I scoot along the wall, willing my feet to step silently. I think of House Eternal and the nearly undetectable spy hole that peered into the ballroom. For all I know, there are similar spying spots here, only looking in at me.
My foot catches on something. There’s a loud, echoing clatter as I nearly trip over whatever it is. Something rolls around on the floor. I curse under my breath. If there are any guards around, my cover is blown. I reach down to see what I ran into.
It feels like a log, or a smooth piece of wood, at first. But quickly, I realize what it actually is. Bone. I ran into a pile of bones.
I stifle a scream and dash away, making more noise from running and scattering bones even farther into the passage.
But no one hears, no one follows me.
A few paces away, I slow down and let my racing heart settle. It beats in my ears, alongside the sound of my frantic breaths. I try not to think about what—or whose—bones those are. Some animal, most likely. A large one.
I continue creeping in the dark, each footstep placed gingerly on the ground, afraid to fall over another mound of mortal remains.
