Her sentiment damn near pulverizes through me… more than normal, even. It’s as if she’s learning how topushher heart at me.
That is very dangerous, love.
The things I’ll make her confess…
“You need closure, Jane. One way or another.”
“I’m worried we’re doing all of this just for someone who doesn’t care about me. This is possiblyidiotic. It’s just forme. I can move on without meeting him. I don’t—I don’t want to risk you at all, alright?”
“Are you growing fond of me, Jane?” I ask with a faint smile.
“I’m mostly fond of you while you’realive, rather than dead,” she quips.
Within the whirlpool of this surrounding anarchy, this tenderness directed right at me is whattrulytakes me off guard. It’s not just her words that brush against me, but the pulse of her emotion—an ache, fierce and protective, like she’s holding me at arm’s length and clutching me close at the same time. Or perhaps it’s not the affection, no, because I’ve hadthatdirected at me… This is different. Her emotions don’t just touch mine; they settle, weaving into me with a depth so natural it feels like breathing.
I want to bottle it up. Hold it, preserve it, protect it from the chaos around us. She doesn’t just feel for me. Shechoosesme, even when the stakes demand she shouldn’t, and the weight of that trust sinks deeper than I’m ready to admit.
“I wish I had a more simple answer, love. But I can tell if we run from this, wewillregret it. There’s something important to your father.”
She seems to accept that answer.
It’s a good thingshecan’t readme. I’m completely on fucking edge. The small calvary here is nothing compared to the loyal legion with the snake crest at home. Maybe we can escape viaship versus land. If we can get south, beyond the Balar Coasts, there’s plenty of space to recoup and organize. Write to my mother to tell her to get out and draw attention away from the families who follow me.
Death’s Wing is south, and that’s a loyalty bound by blood oaths, embedded in our stripes.
When a sudden shot of pain gnaws at my shoulder, I gently touch the very angry gash that’s closed on my neck. Jane stopped the bleeding and even bound some of the flesh so perfectly that it forms only the faintest raise of a scar, and yet it still aches as if it’s an open wound.
That stupid fucking hit.
I felt the damn strike coming; the pain seared before the blade sliced at my skin. But I knew I had to let it happen; everything told me to claim the injury. To seek out Jane, too.
Although, now I’m wondering if it’s not all just a bunch of shit. Clearly, my powers are being manipulated, so what if something can influence my instinct, too?
Rorge gives a hoarse bark to those around as he stops just beneath a lantern with red glass, one that creaks on hinges and hangs over a massive, dark archway.
The fucking Undercroft?
As I glimpse at one of Ritter’s men, his milky eye heightens my unease about whatever the fuck is going on here. These men have become the subject of rumors during Anya’s reconnaissance, existing as a hushed whisper.
And now they’re here, in broad daylight? As agroup?
It’s all too fast; no time for me to truly decipher what I feel. No time to analyze. Thank the fucking gods I can still feelmypeople surrounding us. Bones knows the Undercroft, and Anya even more so.
Even then, Iknowthis is moronic. Just like with the harbors, the rules underneath this city don’t apply like normal. And damning creatures haunt the tunnels.
Has Ritter been hiding there this entire time?
Jane’s persistence eclipses any of her unease, already stepping forward as my hand slides off her back; I prefer to be behind her than in front—better vantage as I can see clear over her head and I’m covering her backside. This time, I’m focusing more on what I see rather than feel. Even so, there’s a distortion in the air as we enter, a sensation I swear I’ve only felt before my sister was taken—the reason I’m here as a Zenith at all.
Every time I think I’ve honed in on the source of this aberration, the context turns to smoke. It’s unnatural, in fact. It reminds me of Cypress and the way she fucks with all our energies.
“I promise the Undercroft won’t bite,” Donna says from behind. “Not with us, anyway.”
“It’s not the Undercroft I don’t like,” I grunt, moving forward, accepting we have no choice. On top of everything, I still want to know how Ritter is tied to my sister. Cypress made it clear that helping the Scorpion’s daughter will guarantee answers.
I owe Serena this.
It’s a long, slow descent until I can no longer hear the rain, the air thick and musty. Along the way,wantedposters stick to the wall, drawings of men and women that have pissed off the wrong people. Garnering a wanted poster is common throughout the lands, but for a city of thieves to post them, the actions have to be doltish, audacious, truly barbaric, or a mixture of all three.
