“Roman. You must awaken. We have no time!”
I squeezed my eyes tightly.
This is my soul talking to me, readying me for death.
A strong hand shook my shoulder.
“Roman!” the voice hissed.
“Go ahead and take me. I’m ready,” I said, unwilling to open my eyes.
“Roman! This is not a dream. You’ve got to wake up!”
“Who are you? Am I dying?” I said as my eyelids fluttered open.
“Not if I can help it.” Large arms thrust beneath me and hefted me in the air like lifting a child. “I’ve got you. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Who are you?” I asked again, comforted by this man’s cradling embrace.
“Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is to get you out of here before Balthazar returns. Balthazar must not know I was here. He will return soon. We must hurry.” He shifted me in his arms to open the door, closed it behind us, and then padded on soft footsteps down the hall. “It’s not your time to die, Roman. This is only the beginning.”
The dim candlelight in the hallway made me squint. I’d been submerged in darkness for too long.
The man trekked his way through an archway, and we were outside.
I took a deep lungful of the fresh air. “Where are we?”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is where we’re going.”
The man carried me toward two horses.
“I can’t ride,” I said. “I’m too weak.”
“You must ride. All you have to do is cling to the horse’s back. I’ll be right by your side.” He maneuvered me onto the horse’s back, where I collapsed, clutching the mane to keep from falling. My legs dangled, broken, weak, and useless.
“I’ll fall,” I said.
“I’ll be right here,” he said, mounting his steed.
I could only make him out from the corners of my eyes. When I tried to look at him directly, he disappeared, convincing me I still had fever dreams. But no dream had ever felt so real. This mysterious man was saving my life.
“I’ve got your dagger,” he said, grabbing my horse’s reins. “I’ll keep it safe until we arrive at our destination. I am here to help you.”
“But why? Who are you? Are you a figment of my imagination?”
“I can assure you I’m no figment of the imagination,” he said. “I will keep you safe. But we must hurry—Balthazar can’t find us.”
I looked at him again, peering through the darkness at his emerald eyes. How could he possibly have known where I was held captive? Why was he helping me?
My relentless questions made my head hurt.
All around us, the night insects kept up their soothing song, rubbing their wings on the backs of their bodies. A sliver of a moon shone overhead.
Taking comfort with my escape and lulled by the steady clop, clop, clop of hooves, I collapsed, gripping the neck of my steed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Olivia
What was wrong with me? Where was my strength?
