I collapse to the floor, as well, fingers frantic as I grab my mother's amulet from the lock and make sure it’s not broken. To my immense relief, it comes out whole and undamaged.
"We should keep moving," I say, fastening the amulet back in place and then retrieving the other tool—the skewer—from the tampered lock.
Gathering the boy who is almost too grown to be carried into her arms, Fox stands. "Lead the way, Malachi."
21
DEATH TO THE NOCTIS
Years of survival and instinct have led me to this moment.
Running is what I've always done best.
And so, without a second thought, I do as the king says.
I run.
A decade of solitude makes me forget the past week I’ve spent with the others, the vow we’ve made to help each other. All I think about is my survival. It’s in my nature. Fuck the odds stacked against me, I will do whatever it takes to live another day, as I always have.
It's not until I'm buried a few hundred feet into the black forest that I remember the people I’ve left behind.
Just when the guilt is settling in, I remember Rowland too. I can't leave without him. And I know he won’t leave without me either. Withoutus, I remind myself. He'll want to find Elison too. This whole predicament only started because he wanted to find her.
And now she has quite the target on her back. So does Mira.
"Fuck."
I should’ve never abandoned them. I don’t know what came over me.
I should double-back, but the ground already quakes with the stampeding of hungry noctis. They're coming for us, and whatever minuscule head start we were given, it won't matter if I sacrifice the ground I've already gained. Forward is the only option at this point. Even if it’s a shit one.
The king said that after the third day, those remaining alive are rounded up and brought back to the castle to be fed upon anyway, so it seems like even if I run farther into the Shadowthorn there’s no feasible escape. For all I know, the entire place is fenced-in. I could get all the way to the edge of the forest, safety just within my reach, only to find that there's a blockade standing in my way.
Or worse, an even larger army of noctis just waiting to snatch me up again.
I can't risk it.
But I can't stand here either.
There is only one exit that I am assured is open, and that's the way we came in.
And there's my plan. Find Elison. Find Rowland. Should probably find Mira too, if she’s still alive. And instead of running deeper into the Shadowthorn like the rest of the fools, the four of us will instead retrace our steps back to the border of Nigh.
Just as my racing heart begins to soothe with the comfort of having a plan, a scream cleaves it in two. The scream of a young woman.
* * *
Branches whip my face, the constant lashings drawing blood as I race through the blackened forest toward the terrified cries. My mind runs wild with possibilities. I imagine Mira, cornered and terrified, curling-up like a young girl who still relies on her parents to protect her. I imagine Elison, and the numerous horrific ways that any of the noctis who find her will feed upon her, shredding through her just for a taste of the unborn speck-of-a-child in her belly.
And as my feet pound against the hard soil, my hatred for the Devonshires erupts.
This is all the fucking king's fault.
He declared usdelicatessens.
He made us desirable, and convinced his regime that we were prizes worth winning, worth sinking their teeth into.
I'm so sick of him having the upper hand. I'm so sick of our only option being to run.
