Toran struck a match and lit a lantern, taking the steps ahead of her as she followed. Light blazed around them, but the farther they descended, the less she could see in front of her. She inhaled deeply, salt and sea irritating her nose.
“What is this place?” It smelled too much of the ocean for her comfort.
“The underground,” he whispered. “The canals that crisscross most of the city aren’t there naturally. Gadore’s first builders carved them out of the rock to direct the fresh water from the Tremaw River throughthe streets. But there have always been a number of natural canals in the area, they’re just deeper.”
“Do any lead out of the city? Beyond the Walled Prison?”
“Probably, but I don’t know which ones.” He raised the lantern, then nodded. “This way.”
“So these underground canals,” she said, eyeing the way the light danced off the strip of water to her left, “they connect to all water sources in the city?”
“No, they’re kept separate. The builders had to make sure the canals they carved aboveground had no chance of merging with the natural ones, since these source from the ocean.”
“But do all the ocean ones connect?”
“Yeah.”
She stumbled, and he caught her by the elbow. His hand was warm on her skin.
“If you think about it,” he said, not letting go, “everything connects to the ocean.”
She didn’t want to think about it. To her, the ocean had only ever been an endless source of cruel death. She started tapping her fingers against her thumb again. Toran’s hand slid from her elbow down to her hand. His fingers spread hers, her palm opening to press against his. Her tapping stilled as he held her. They walked briskly through the dark like that.
Toran came to a stop in front of an archway. It had been sealed shut, but the builder seemed to have gotten tired of the job and stopped halfway up, leaving a window into the passage beyond. Holding the lantern high, Toran leaned over the half wall. Nes leaned with him, saw a flash of her reflection at the bottom, caught a whiff of salt water, and stepped back.
Toran handed her the lantern and pulled a rope off the wall beside them. “This tunnel connects to the Witch’s Well,” he said as he tied the rope around his waist. “It’s how they remove the bodies after they drown.”
She glanced between him and the still water waiting behind that half wall. A current of nerves tugged her stomach every which way.
“I’ll swim to the end and pull Genna out.”
She set the lantern down, freeing her hands. She’d trusted him. And now he was trusting her to pull him back, to keep him from drowning.
He stared at her, a question in his eyes.
She pressed her lips together. She didn’t have the right answer. “I don’t want you to die.”
He bit his lip, a grin breaking through. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She secured the rope around his waist, then the other end around her own, giving it a yank so hard she felt the fibers grate her hip bone.
“Just don’t let it be the last thing.” She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. The light of the lantern made them look more golden than brown. “Got it?”
“Don’t worry.” He winked at her. “I have plenty more things I want to say to you.”
Then he turned his back and began his descent into the tunnel.
23
Toran
It was colder than he expected.
The air was bitter, and it twisted around the rope he clung to as Nes slowly lowered him into the dark. Toran kept his arms close to his sides, trying to coil his own warmth deep inside. It would only get colder once he hit the water.
Water that, he reminded himself, a girl was already drowning in only a few lengths away. Not just a girl. Genna.
He took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling through his mouth.
