Then it hits me—“The others,” I urge, knowing that we’re one of the first to cross, if notthefirst. “How will they cross?”
My father’s arm is placed in front of my chest, slowly nudging me to keep moving. “We get you to the ship. That’s the priority.”
“Theothers,” I reiterate, not willing to leave Soren.
Ern’s eyes are sterner than I’ve ever seen them, the display distracting me because he looks so much like my father even though his actual face hasn’t changed. “If Soren can’t figure this shit out, then he’s not worthy of you—” fear displaces stringency as Dad looks across the bridge. “I sense a Zenith. It’s not Soren.”
“I said torun!” Basilisk bellows, his deep voice echoing over the crevice.
Dad urges me forward, genuine concern emanating from him like heat from a forge. The three of us break into a sprint, feet pounding against uneven stone as we navigate through a crowd of people.
“If the Zenith are down here,” Donna manages out, her voice uneven from all the rushing, “They could be up top, too… and Basilisk… just cut off the main escape route.”
Oh.
Shit.
It doesn’t stop me, though. Dad is right that Soren will be relying on us to act as directed. At least, I hope so.
I hope he’s not stuck.
We’re on a hurried path for so long that my ability to pump my legs starts to fail me, my lungs burning so much it brings tears to my eyes. A sharp, aching stab in my side begins to slow me down.I’m out of shape.
And then, thestairs. They appear in maddening bursts—a short, steep set here, another long winding one there. It’s good that we’re moving up, but damn, this is more than I’ve moved in a long time, and my calves are even starting to protest. The stony ceiling is slowly getting lower, too, bringing on claustrophobia.
Glancing at Donna, she moves with precision, but even her breaths come hard and fast. Dad moves like a man possessed, his focus unbreakable.
Donna’s gaze finds mine when I keep looking around, my head growing dizzy. “Keep moving,” she commands, her face slick with sweat.
One more step.
One more set of stairs…
It seems to happen all at once.
Without any clear source of enemies, Dad’s primary blade is removed from behind his back, countering an attack from someone charging at us through an alley. Scraping metal and grunts surge a new round of adrenaline through me. Donna has both her short swords out in a flash, fighting off her own assailants.
Metal pierces flesh, blood splattering all over. Some wounds are of my people, and other, more fatal ones, are inflicted on those who pounced.
Quickly, I’m the only one without any injury.
My short sword is in my hand, although I know I have to be careful. I’m not trained; the stint with Bones was for last-minute muscle memory, not to train in the offensive.
Watching my father fight is terrifying, both in how easily he cuts through others and how much I can’t stand when there’s a close call. I’ve seen this happen all too many times, and I know all it takes is one misstep, one exhausted raise of an arm that’s too slow…
Balancing staying out of the way and wanting to keep these men off of my father is made impossible when one attacker’s eyes lock with mine. I grip my sword but then loosen it as I hear Bones in my mind:You’re not your father or Donna. Barrel roll your ass around until they’re tired.
Okay, evasion.
The man comes near me, sidestepping when one of the fights nearly takes him out, my father glancing our way—it’s enough to embolden me.
Don’t worry about me, Dad. I can heal my wounds if this gets nasty.
Whether he can feel that or not, I’m not certain, but if his powers are anything like Soren’s, then maybe he can tell I’m at least confident, which seems like half the battle.
I step back on the street, trying to glance at his footing when possible. “You’re wanted alive, woman. Don’t make us fight you.”
“Best I can do is dead.”
