Anya takes the dagger from where I dropped it and digs into her forearm, grunting and grimacing as she flicks something out. “Shit. We can’t lose that—” She places the blade down. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about it disappearing if it’s not in me anymore. It’s a part of Soren… maybe only he could remove it.”
We both search in the dark, hands on the floor, and I present her a few pebbles, clicking my tongue when I realize they’re not the mask. “What does it feel like?”
“You’ll feel the magic—it’shere. She faces me, the torchlight barely enough to see each other. “Where do you want it?”
I peer out the door. “Should we get out of here first?”
“Nobody comes down here. Not with the sirens. Only that guard was here and would periodically check, but he’s deaf.”
It’s the perfect opening.
“Forearm works,” I say, not wanting to waste this opportunity. “Just do it.”
I bite down on my knuckles as she slices me open, shoving the piece of Soren’s mask into my skin, and then the blue light of my palms emits in the darkness as I heal it in.
Soren.
“I don’t get anything from this,” I say, partially disappointed.“I can’t feel him at all.”
“Could be your ruby. It might still work. Let’s go. I’ll stay with you,” she pants out, my mind tunneling as so many details areuseless in the shadow of survival. I heal her arm as we step out, the body of that guard mostly burned at the shirt and chest.
“Anya, could you live if you left me? As in, now that everything is set into motion… You might as well try to run.”
She peers down both ways. “Cypress said to stay with you as long as I could. I could try taking on your skin, maybe run as far as I can while they chase me…” Her eyes are more apologetic than I’ve seen them. “I won’t get far, though. I’ve barely eaten in a week. No… I should remain, like the witch wanted.”
This is really fucking hard knowing someone is likely to die, and I can’t change it. As ifIknow what’s best for her.She’s making this choice on her own. Somehow, I have to respect that.
“Okay, well, let’s go right then? Maybe we can exit through the other end.”
It’s a heart-racing chase through the tunnels as we go down a path neither of us has been, Anya limping at times. When we pass by what looks like water, she drinks until her belly is full. We then come across a wooden door, which is unlocked.
“This place isn’t well secured,” I mumble.
“Ashfire doesn’t come under attack often, if ever,” she whispers. “I bet after this, they’ll change that.”
We move through to what looks like a storage room, and there’s even the smell of food. Anya faces me. “We both need new clothes. You look ridiculous. We can capture two people, tie them up. Take their stuff.”
It takes a moment for me to chuckle when I realize what she just said, and as I look around the place, I realize this might be the storage area for the kitchen with labeled boxes, bags of rice and flour, and stacks of eggs. I recognize an open box of tea leaves, spelling just like the ones used on me. “If we can stew these, even in lukewarm water, it will make them dreary for hours.”
“Okay, let’s find some cups.”
We’re like two mice back here, rummaging around until we find things we want. Every now and again, we can hear orders being barked somewhere down the hall, mixing with the sound of kitchen prep work.
As we strain the leaves in with the tea through a cloth, little droplets the only sound between us, Anya lifts her gaze to look at me. “This is Amy’s face, by the way.” Her voice wavers, but only for a moment, that deep expression of emotion breaking through like a soul trying to leave a body. “I don’t want to talk about it more. I just… it comforts me, and I wanted you to know.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks for telling me,” I say, staring at her more than usual now. It’s odd to think that this face was once someone that was to Anya what Soren is to me, and I’m sort of meeting this dead stranger. Anya keeps an eye out while I hide and strain; she’s better at espionage than I am. I brew what I can, hoping some of the components seep out. When the water is dark, I figure it’s good enough, placing the wet cloth full of moist tea leaves on the floor.
“How long do we have, with Jesper?” Anya asks. “Might be a while before we come across anyone since it’s night, and I don’t know who is down here. Might be worth moving forward.”
“He wanted dinner with me—I know, it was awkward as shit—and I attacked him rather quickly. He’ll be out for a few hours, but someone might check on the room before then.”
Her eyes appraise me. “That was smart, Jane.”
“I got the idea from you, and the time you wore the skin of that man’s mistress,” I reply, my smile almost painful as it feels conditional. Like at any point, she’ll be wiped away.
Anya’s eyes flush with gratitude, like her dying words really meant something, before she hushes me, and the voices of two women start to near us.
“You should apply to mornings, Bev.”
