It hurt. Oh, God. It hurt. That burning smell was her.
She bit her lip to keep from screaming. Bit down until there was blood.
And then, finally, a blaze of light that was just as blinding as the darkness.
She stumbled back. “Asher!”
Was he all right? An arm wrapped around her shoulders and hauled her back. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”
The witch screamed as fire ran up her tattered skirts. Her black hair hung in matted tangles down her back, and her arms were skeletally thin. She danced around the cell, the flames casting grotesque shadows on the wall.
Asher grabbed her burned hand and her knees gave out.
“Sorry,” he said grimly, moving his hold to her arm.
He pulled her through the open door of their cell and turned left, pushing her to a run as the witch howled behind them.
“It won’t kill her,” he said. “She’ll follow soon, and there are still familiars about. Do you have any other weapons on you?”
She laughed. “No.”
They hit the stairs at a run. She slammed her shoulder into the wall as she lost her balance. Asher shoved her up the stairs. Darkness closed around them again. Either the witch had managed to put out the fire or they’d moved beyond the light of it. There was silence ahead. Silence below. She kept moving, remembering the stairwell from when she’d come here with Toby. It wasn’t long. They were almost to the top.
The main door wasn’t far past that.
Her foot hit the stone landing. They’d made it.
She nearly wept at the sight of stars shining through a gap in the roof. The flickering light of a far-off torch through a hole in the wall. She lurched toward the spot where she remembered the door.
And came up short as the dark form of a familiar unfolded from the shadows against the wall, blocking her way.
Asher shoved her back, out of the familiar’s path. He meant well. But the back of her head cracked against the stone, and her vision went blurry before she was able to gather herself. She might have blacked out. Because Asher had moved deeper into the dark, roofless hall, pushing the familiar away from the door.
The sight of him was jarring. When she’d last seen him in Jarn, he’d been a gangly youth on his first patrol. Now, he was a grown man fending off a familiar with a chunk of stone in his hand.
The familiar stepped forward, and Asher hurled the rock at the thing’s head. His aim was good. The rock hit the thing’s skull with a meaty thunk before falling away.
The familiar kept coming.
“Get out of here,” Asher shouted at her.
She pushed away from the wall, trying to get her balance, but the floor kept tilting. She pressed a hand to her aching head and winced when her burned palm made contact.
She wasn’t leaving Asher behind. Not when it was her idea to run. They were in this together.
She tripped over a rock—or her own feet—and fell to her knees with a crack. She scrambled around for a weapon, crawling forward while Asher retreated deeper into the hall.
The idiot. He was trying to lure the familiar away from her instead of running for the door. God save her from heroic men.
She couldn’t find anything to help them fight a familiar. Her hands sifted through rubble and dried leaves. Was that…a bone? It wasn’t even big enough to swing.
There was nothing.
She tried to get up, but her legs weren’t working right. Her stomach lurched and vomit crept up her throat. Her vision went black around the edges.
She wouldnotfaint. Not when they were so close to getting out.
She managed to get a foot under her, but fell forward when she tried to stand. Her injured hand smacked against the stone and she choked on her breath. Her heartbeat throbbed just beneath her skin…or whatever raw meat was where her skin was supposed to be.
