Page 154 of Under Restless Skies

Despite my determination and my trust in Laristella’s plan, my whole body’s trembling.

“You’re going to have to be super quiet,” I whisper, tucking each dragon into a satchel.

Ava chirps. Of course she does.

“Silent,” I insist, hoping somehow I can get them to understand what I mean.

I’ll pretend to cough if they make any noise near guards, but if it’s too much, we’ll be doomed.

Foros help me.

The satchels smell like orange peels and cloves, which should mask their scent from Auranius. I tested the scent using cloths—and it never failed. That said, this time, I’m carrying more than just cloths.

A thunderclap splits the sky, and I take a deep breath, telling myself I’m walking out of the room the same way as every day, when I’ve been coming and going at different hours, always carrying the satchels.

I leave the room and hallway with a calm, confident stride, then take the side door that leads outside, where drops of rain dot the cobbled path. My destination is Fourth Street, house thirty-five—close to the port, and I’m glad Laristella didn’t rent a room that would require me to make a detour.

The address is easy enough to find: a plain door tucked between merchant storefronts. The key Laristella gave me works, and I step in. Inside, I find a short brown wig and a gray cloak, and put them on.

Rain is pouring and the streets are empty when I step outside, my heart racing, hoping to get to the Rosalinda and out of this city in time. I take two steps toward the port, when a figure steps out of the shadow and approaches me.

A young woman, wearing a rain cloak.

I turn the other way, but then I hear, “Mayara?”

I turn again and see Nelly, closing the distance between us in quick steps. “You think you’re smart, don’t you?”

Her voice has a mocking edge that doesn’t belong to the Nelly I know.

My stomach twists as confusion mars my thoughts.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Catching a little mouse,” she hisses. “You thought you were better than me, didn’t you?”

“Most definitely not.” My hand goes to the satchels’ straps at my shoulder.

Nelly, here, makes no sense. She’s my friend—or was. Maybe I can try to appeal to that side of her. Softening my voice, I plead, “Let me go, please. I just want to escape.” Her face doesn’t change; it remains a mask of scorn. I hate what I’m about to do, but I have no choice. I pull a dagger. “Don’t try to stop me.”

She flinches, then sneers. “Oooh. Aggressive now?”

From the shadow of a wall, another cloaked figure emerges. A young man. It can’t be.

Alayel moves to her side and presses his lips to hers in the kind of quick, casual kiss he has given me many times. Nothing makes sense. It’s a horrific illusion, must be.

He pulls her close and says, “Well done.”

My chest chills, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. But I shouldn’t worry about them. What I need to do is get these little dragons out of here.

“Let me go,” I plead again.

“I don’t think so.” Alayel pulls a dagger while holding Nelly with his other arm.

My friend—or former friend—gives me a ridiculous smirk, as if this was a game she just won.

“Please,” I beg, and Nelly’s expression changes at once, her eyes widening in shock.

I blink, unable to understand what I’m seeing.