“Runnow.”
The woman did. The moment one of the soldiers moved to stop her, Safire swung the club, slamming it down between his shoulder blades. The provocation worked. He turned away from his prey and back to her.
“Stupid girl,” said the Lumina whose club she’d stolen, rolling up his sleeves. “That’s all right. I’m feeling generous today.” He glanced to the others, cracking each of his knuckles. “Let’s show her how we treat enemies of the Skyweaver....”
Safire flipped the club, catching the base. Ready for him. Ready for all of them. She’d been here a hundred times before. There was nothing they could do to her that hadn’t already been done.
But before he could even throw the first punch, Eris was there. Free of the rope that bound her a moment ago. Her eyes bright, her hair gleaming. She held the spindle in her hand—retrieved from Safire’s pocket—and was bending down, drawing a glowing silver line across the sandy cobblestones....
Her hand slid into Safire’s as she rose. Silver mist flooded the alley, engulfing the Lumina, who disappeared first. Then the noise of the distant market. Then the street.
Safire couldn’t see—not Eris, not anything. But she felt those warm fingers, woven tightly through hers. Pulling her through.
“Don’t let go,” said Eris.
She didn’t.
Twenty-One
When the mist turned to dark gray fog, Safire looked up. For a single fleeting moment, the sky was deep black and littered with stars. So many stars. Brighter and clearer and closer than ever before. So close, Safire lifted her fingers skyward, convinced she might touch one.
And then, quite suddenly, the fog dispersed. In its absence came the sounds of the night market they’d left behind. Warm bodies jostled Safire. The smell of sugar and flowers enveloped her. Music played by multiple stringed instruments beat loud and strong in her ears.
“Hells,” Eris cursed, materializing beside her, their fingers still entwined.
“What just happened?” Safire asked, looking around them. Skirts twirled and ribbons fluttered as couple after couple spun or stomped past them, lost in the throes of the music. The girls all wore flower wreaths on their heads and their smiles were brighter than stars.
A tightly packed crowd ringed the dancers, watching and cheering them on.
“I was so desperate to leave that alley... ,” said Eris, looking around, too, the anguish clear on her face. “... I was thinking more aboutitthan the place I wanted to go to.” She shook her head. “The crossing got muddled. So now we’re back here.”
None of that made any sense to Safire.
“Where ishere?” she hissed.
“It’s a betrothal dance,” Eris said, watching the particular steps of the dancers now. Her grip was getting increasingly tighter by the moment. Safire looked from the rosy-cheeked couples spinning around them to the ring of spectators closing them in. All of them laughing and singing and shouting encouragement.
It was suddenly familiar. They’d passed this way not long before, she realized. But they’d been outside this dancing circle then. Now they were inside it.
One by one, the gazes of the crowd fell on the only couple standing still within the circle: Eris and Safire. Their brows furrowed and their lips moved. Someone held a flower wreath out for Eris to take, misunderstanding their reason for being there.
Safire looked beyond them, farther out in the square, where Lumina soldiers rushed by, stopping revelers to question them, shouting for other soldiers to help in their search for the fugitives.
Eris must have seen it, too. Because suddenly she was sliding the throwing knife from the knot of hair at the back of Safire’s neck, making her hair fall loose around her face.
“What are you doing?” she whispered as Eris took the flower wreath, then set the ring of blue forget-me-nots on Safire’s head.
Eris’s arm slid around her waist. “Pretend you’re hopelessly in love with me,” she murmured, eyeing the soldiers out in the crowd. “And follow my lead.”
Before Safire could protest, Eris was leading her in the steps of the dance—while the Lumina hunted for them just beyond this dancing ring. Normally, Safire’s uniform would have given her away. But she was still in the unmarked clothes she’d worn to spy on Jemsin in the Thirsty Craw. There was nothing to distinguish her as the visiting dragon king’s commandant.
Someone gave a whoop of encouragement. Safire looked to find the crowd cheering as she and Eris joined the betrothed couples. Most were pairs of men and women—except for one pair of young men on the far side, beaming at each other, both wearing wreaths on their heads. Eris tipped her head at the man who’d handed her their wreath. But Safire could see her eyes searching the square beyond, keeping her attention on the Lumina—none of whom thought to check the dancing circle. Why would they? They were looking for a dangerous fugitive and a disobedient soldier, not a lovestruck couple.
Safire should have stopped Eris. Should have dragged her out of that circle and brought her to the searching Lumina. But she’d seen the look in that man’s eyes. He’d wanted to hurt Safire in the same way he’d hurt the one she saved from him.
She remembered Eris’s account of the night the scrin burned.
What if she was telling the truth?
