“Last chance Dane!” Weston roars.
Dane jolts slightly, as if Weston pushed the sword deeper into his skin, warning him he is serious, and I start begging. I beg the gods, beg the island, beg whoever is listening to keep Weston from killing Dane.
Suddenly, the pressure around my neck falls away, and the bite of my dagger is gone. It hits the floor with a loud thump, and I follow it, my knees crumbling underneath me. I scramble around, searching for my weapon until my hand wraps around the hilt and I instantly feel secure.
I stand just as Dane whips around to face Weston, and my eyes finally lock on him. The point of his sword is aimed at the base of Dane’s throat, and the ferocity in his eyes makes my stomach tumble. They glare at each other face to face, neither willing to make the first move.
“Willing to stab a man in the back, Weston? I didn’t realize the First Guard was such a fucking coward.” Dane’s grimace is met by Weston’s unmoving stare, as if his words have no effect on him.
But they have an effect on me.
Do theyknoweach other? More than just from being on the island? Why else would Dane know Weston is the First Guard?
I replay everything from the story Sig told me. The fight between them, giving Dane his scar, the slash of Dane’s knife through Weston’s abdomen.
Now that I hear the words from Dane’s mouth, the fight feels like more than just retaliation for killing the Guardian. But I was so focused on the fight and learning that Dane lied about his scar that I completely forgot the first part of the story.
Dane jumped through the remnants of the dust as Weston traveled through the magic with the Guardian. Dane is from Blackwood. Dane knows my mother, so Dane must know Weston.
And Weston didn’t tell me about any of it.
I can’t be angry about it. Not now. Not when we need to get away from this manipulative monster. Both of us.
“Get behind me,” Weston grumbles, and I know the command is directed at me. His eyes don’t leave Dane’s, his training keeping him poised to respond to any attack.
I scamper past Dane, my bare feet slapping on the wooden floor as I slide behind him. His free arm extends backward, herding me farther back and making sure I’m safe. I reach out, wrapping my hand around his belt, the feel of the leathergrounding me as I hold my resolve and keep my dagger trained toward Dane.
“This isn’t over, Weston,” Dane says. He doesn’t advance toward us, doesn’t attack. He didn’t even spare me a glance as I moved away from him. Dane just stares Weston down, with obvious hatred written all over his face.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Weston says, his voice full of the commanding authority that I recognize only appears when he is deathly serious. “We are going to walk out that door. I have archers trained on it, waiting to put an arrow through you. If you so much as step foot out of this cabin to follow us, they will take you down.”
Dane scoffs. “You’re going to take the coward’s way out and let someone else have the fate that should be meant for you?”
“I said put an arrow through you,” he snaps. “Their orders are to maim, not kill.”
An eerie smile pulls at the corners of Dane’s lips. “Just remember, you can’t leave without me.” He pats the pouch at his side and my eyes flicker to it.
I didn’t even think to take it while I was still near him, while Weston had him held down with the threat of the sword. I was too focused on getting as far away from him as I could, and I don’t know what would have happened if I tried. He probably wouldn’t have let it go without a fight, and Weston wouldn’t let me fight it. I can’t put him at risk.
Dane’s eyes shift to me. “That was your plan, wasn’t it? You were trying to get the dust.” I glare back at him, not giving him the satisfaction of confirmation. He doesn’t need it though. He knows that’s what I wanted.
He huffs a laugh, a small smile playing at his lips as he shakes his head at me.
“Like I said. Useless.”
“Remember what I said, Dane,” Weston growls, and takes a step backward into me, urging me toward the open door. His sword stays leveled at Dane, his focus still on him until we are outside and Dane still hasn’t moved.
Weston grabs the door and slams it shut before he’s moving frantically, sheathing his sword and wrapping his hand around mine, squeezing tighter than he ever has before.
“Run.”
He takes off, yanking me behind him as we tear through the trees, darting to the side of the safe house, in a completely different direction than when Dane and I arrived. The soles of my feet scream as every rock and branch they hit pierce through them. My boots are still sitting just inside the house; I didn’t have time to put them back on before our escape, and I’m feeling it now as I try to keep up with Weston’s long strides.
I’m so focused on getting as far away from the cabin as we can that I didn’t even think about the Castaways we left behind, the ones who were waiting to protect us against Dane.
“The archers! We can’t leave them behind!” I cry. “What if Dane finds one of them?” Whoever Weston has hidden in the forest needs to get back to the ship immediately. I don’t want Dane or any of the Voyagers to catch them and harm them in retaliation.
“There are no archers. Just fucking run.”
