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Rhea’s spell may not pinpoint our exact location while we travel on foot, but it’s giving Mathias enough to methodically tighten the net around us. We don’t have long before that net closes completely. I’d love for Sabelle to simply write in the thing and wish away all our problems…but magic that powerful is never easy and never immediate. And if it doesn’t work fast enough, or doesn’t work at all, we’ll have wasted precious resources we can’t afford to lose.

The dark shapes pause, their voices carrying faintly through the fog. They seem frustrated, arguing amongst themselves.

“Split up. Half continue south. The rest, follow me,” commands a gruff voice I don’t recognize.

Beside me, Sabelle’s breath catches. The Anarki forces divide before our eyes, half of them trudging away from our position, the others moving toward the village but along a path well east of our hiding spot.

I wait until their footfalls fade before raising my head cautiously. The way ahead looks clear, a narrow corridor between search parties.

“Now,” I whisper. “Stay close. If we move quickly through the gap, we might make it to the village before they regroup.”

Sabelle nods, her eyes bright with determination, despite the mud smeared across her cheek. Seeing magickind’s princess willingly filthy and still fighting ignites something fierce in my chest.

“You’re doing well. Keep going. I’ve got you.” I squeeze her hand.

She squeezes back. “I won’t let you down.”

I whip my gaze back to her. Sabelle is running for her life, and she cares about me? The woman amazes me. How is it possible that she and Bram are even of the same bloodline, much less share a father? In my eyes, she’s every inch a princess. But Bram is no Prince Charming.

We settle into a consistent pace, slower than I like but she still jogs behind me. With each step, I grow more confident. And when we reach the outskirts of town, my wide smile threatens to break my face. We escaped, without injury—and with the book!

Or at least I thought so until, through the bushes covering the bend in the road, I spot three robed wizards fanned out across the route leading into town. Bugger! Doing my best not to sully her with the mud covering my body, I clutch Sabelle to keep her close and safe.

Against me, she breathes hard. “How did they find us?”

“I don’t think they did. I suspect they’re guarding the road as a precaution.”

And I’m not certain how we’ll evade them so I can get Sabelle to safety. Anarki at my front, back, and sides. No means of teleporting…

She takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you teleport across town, get a car, then?—”

“Steal it?”

“Unless you own one here, yes.”

Though most think I’m a lowlife and a thief, I don’t steal. I never have in my life. But desperate times clearly call for desperate measures.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then take Bram and steal one, drive to that church down the road, and collect me. I’ll sneak against the side of this cliff and escape detection.”

Stealing aside, it’s a solid plan, except… “I cannot drive. We should stay together and?—”

“And be caught trying to find a way into town. No. Let’s reverse roles,” she breathes against my cheek.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from turning to her, kissing her…and likely blurting the vow that would be the biggest mistake of my life. Already, Sabelle intrigues and compels me beyond all logic. It’s laughable. Sabelle Rion mated to a Rykard? Sounds like a plot from one of those damnable human television comedies.

“I have an idea. You have the pack with the book. Give it to me.”

She sets it on the ground at my feet. With my boot, I nudge it under a bush. She gives it another little shove. Now when she leaves, the diary will stay hidden where she placed it. I can escape, if need be, and it should remain there.

Sabelle nods, seemingly satisfied. “Stay here and stay quiet.”

When she begins to creep away, I grab her wrist and pull her back. “Where the bloody hell are you going?”

“To get a car and take it to the church. See the lights down the road, through the fog?” She points to some glimmering, distant point to my right.

“I do, but?—”