No one said anything. No one moved. Toran didn’t dare point out the definition ofinvulnerable.
“Get her up,” he said at last. “The King is waiting.”
Quint pressed a kerchief to Damari’s head before he and Genna hefted her up, supporting her weight between them. They headed for the door, Suri a step behind them.
Toran turned back to Nes. She still stood in the doorway to the dumpstreet. The night cowered behind her. It was only then he realized the doorway was permanently open. The plow that had swept through only moments after they’d left the narrow street had taken the back door with it.
“The symbol,” she said, “on the back of your neck. It’s gone.”
He instinctively reached a hand up to feel the skin there. It was smooth to the touch, no pain igniting as he pressed down. He glanced over his shoulder at the unconscious Damari. “How is that possible?”
Nes’s eyes honed in on the floor. “She needed the magic to use for the corpses.”
He considered her a moment. Considered the stiff way in which she stood under the light. How she refused to meet his eye.
“You coming?”
At last, her gaze drifted from the small puddle of blood on the kitchen floor up to him. “My father will be free,” she whispered, her voice coming out hoarse.
He offered her his hand. “Let’s go.”
She took it without question. As if the other night never happened. As if she were just a girl and he just a boy. As if their whole world wasn’t about to change.
He squeezed her hand.
Toran had picked his side.
40
Nes
The city felt like one long maze. They’d left the Ditch behind and now it was just one cobblestone street after another, the stones blurring beneath her feet.
Nes thought she knew every street, corner, and Goddess-damned stretch of wall Gadore had to offer. She was wrong. The more she followed Toran, the more she realized how little she knew.
Toran was quiet as he led the group.
She wished he’d talk. Wished anyone would talk. She needed the distraction. Something to focus on other than the magic wracking her body. She ground her teeth so hard she’d be surprised if she had any left in her mouth by the time this was over.
At long last, they entered the westernmost edge of the Bark. To their left, the wall separating the city sector from the monastery grounds loomed heads taller than even Quint. Toran bent down and pressed a hand to one of the stones. Something cracked and whined, then a section of the cobblestone path split open to reveal a set of stairs.
“This way,” Toran said, descending first, followed by Quint, Genna, and Damari. She and Suri brought up the rear.
When she reached the bottom, Toran had a lantern waiting. The light bloomed around them, creating a bubble of visibility that illuminated only their faces.
“These are just like the tunnels in the Wharf,” Genna whispered, as if she feared the dark would steal her voice. “I had no idea they ran underneath the whole city.”
“The canals, too,” Quint said. “This used to all be marshland. Whenbuilding Gadore, the architects had to find ways to redirect the water or risk the city flooding every time it rained.”
“But streets still flood whenever it rains.”
Nes caught a piece of Quint’s smile, the light falling on only half his face.
“I never said they did a good job.”
They came to the end of the hall, where a slender canal yawned before them. Quint cut to the right, the water—crisp with the scent of the sea—flowing steadily to their left. The path narrowed the longer they walked, coming to a head with the canal at a stone archway. There was only enough walkway for them to pass through one at a time.
Nes hung back. She tapped her fingers in a relentless beat. The same beat was inside her—her magic thumping so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if her skin jumped. The world was closing in, her magic pressing forward.
