Elena clenched her fists until they no longer trembled. She stood.
With a steady hand, she grabbed her brenni’s bridle. It nickered but held still as she patted its mane. And as the smoke grew thicker, as the inferno’s song grew louder, doubt and inhibitions fled from her mind until all she felt was the sweet, intoxicating, dangerous power rippling through her veins.
“I’ll go far enough,” she told the fire.
CHAPTER 42
YASSEN
To be forgiven, one must be burned.
—a Ravani proverb
Yassen awoke at dawn to the smell of smoke. It permeated the cabin, lining the floorboards, and when he saw the bed empty beside him, fear leapt up his throat. Had there been another attack? Had the Arohassin already taken Elena? He threw on his clothes, dashed out of bed, and stumbled down the porch stairs.
Elena’s brenni was gone. With a groan, Yassen lifted his saddle with his left arm and threw it on his steed. It neighed, nostrils flaring. Yassen fumbled with the clasps of the girth. His fingers felt swollen, clumsy. He cursed. He tried to use his shoulder and lean against his brenni while he yanked up the girth, but the animal threw back its head in protest.
“Easy, easy,” he said, but it backed away from him.
Just then, he heard hoofbeats.
Yassen turned as Elena tore up the hill. Soot coated her face, and her expression was grim, resolute. The pressure in his chest burst. As soon as she jumped down, he grabbed her and pulled her close.
“It’s all right. I’m fine,” she gasped.
She was alive. She was here. The Arohassin still hadn’t found them.
“You idiot,” he whispered into her ear. “You stupid, beautiful idiot.”
She pressed her face into his neck, squeezing him hard for a moment, and then drew back.
“The mine exploded,” she said.
“Did they see you?”
“Only smoke,” she said.
But Yassen knew it would not be long. The Jantari might be tricked into believing it a forest fire, but the Arohassin wouldn’t take it at face value. How could a forest fire spread so quickly, so close to a mine? If the Arohassin were here, they would come for them.
“Elena…” He shook his head. “Why did you go alone? Why didn’t you wake me?”
Her smile was sad, pained. Early-morning light stole through the canopy, highlighting the dirt and ash in her hair. She touched his cheek.
“I got soot all over you,” she said.
He leaned into her hand. “I’m just glad you’re safe. But we must go.Now.”
“I need to finish what I’ve started, Yassen,” she said, and there was a heaviness in her voice, an ache he had never heard before. Her eyes met his. “You saw the army. You saw what they’re doing at the hovertrain stations. I have to spread the fire, just a little more. And then I can go.”
“But the tunnels,” he said, his voice dry. “If we blow up the other mines, they might collapse. How will we get to the Black Scales?”
“The new mining tunnels might collapse, but not the old ones,” she said. Her eyes glimmered as she stepped closer. “You said it yourself—the red ones skirt around the mines. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Yassen chewed his lip. A part of him screamed for him to turn and run. To leave.
But hadn’t he been running all his life? From Ravence, Veran, Jantar, the Arohassin—himself?
“I—” he began. He looked to the sky, to the smoke that was eating the horizon.
