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“Shit,” I breathed.

Zaira’s voice trembled. “Each ward will require a higher price.”

Whatever Mortis had done to get ahead, they weren’t the ones paying the price—Lord Sharma was. We were, too. And I couldn’t help but wonder just how high that price was going to be by the time we reached the last of the wards.

Chapter 49

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The path had turned mean. My calves ached as we hiked up a mountain of narrow ledges carved into stone. The golems had been a fun diversion; Visha had taken one out with a bow, Kazmyn had knocked the other’s heart-stone out with a thrown dagger. I was pretty sure Hawl was still sulking over not being able to count a kill. They seemed to be not-so-secretly hoping we’d run into more golems.

The dwarves, I had decided, were a truly impressive people—and also insane. For instance, the path we were on right now had clearly been created by someone with no concept of gravity. We moved around a bend and came out on the edge of a gorge. I stopped so fast, Medra walked into my back. I slipped my pack off to rub my shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around my waist, leaning her forehead against my back with a sigh. Ahead of us, a chasm split through the cavern. A waterfall thundered down the far side in a spray of white, crashing down into churning waters far below. A mist rose up from the gorge, wetting my face and hair.

Stretched out across the gorge, swaying in the breeze, was a long rope bridge. “Look,” Medra whispered. There were people on the far side of the bridge: House Mortis. About fifteen of them were gathered there. On the plus side, we were obviously catching up. On the downside, there were more of them than us.

My eyes scanned the pack of red and white. No sign of Dinesh Sharma, which meant there must be more of them and they’d already taken him ahead, somewhere out of sight. My gaze landed on Professor Alastor Vane. The tall, thin man stood slightly apart from the others, like a raven among lions. Even now, his mouth was pressed in a line of disapproval; apparently, the grass wasn’t always greener on the other side.

I kept scanning. Nearby Vane stood Larissa Diamantis—she’d been one of Regan’s friends. Gretchen Cameron crouched next to her, going through a heavy pack. I smirked; the scar on her cheek was fading, but I could still see it even from here. A little lesson Pendragon had taught her the year she’d arrived.

A figure stepped forward and my eyes narrowed: Silvio Santos. Golden skin. Brown eyes that looked warm until you realized how much cruelty lurked there. Square jaw, clean-shaven. Sure, he was a pretty boy—a pretty boy I’d enjoy carving open soon.

He saw me. His face lit up with delight.

Visha was ahead of me. I shot her a meaningful look, then stepped carefully past her to the front of the line, carefully tugging Pendragon along with me.

Santos’s laugh cut across the roar of the waterfall. “Well, well, well,” he called across the gorge. “Blake Drakharrow. Didn’t expect to see you and your little squad of losers turning up so soon.”

My heart rate spiked, but I kept my face neutral. The asshole had touched Pendragon, shoved her down onto her knees. I could still remember the way he’d looked at her. The way he’d smiled when I’d told him he’d lose the hand he’d touched her with. I’d already decided Santos would be losing a lot more than a hand.

He waved both his hands in the air and grinned. “Hands still attached.”

I smiled humorlessly. “Give it time. We’re both here now, aren’t we?”

Santos laughed. “You still think you can protect her. That’s cute. But you won’t always be within arm’s reach, Drakharrow.”

Behind me, I could feel Pendragon’s body tense up. “I want to break his nose,” she murmured. “Then you can cut off his hand.”

I squeezed her hand where it rested on my chest. “Deal.” In my periphery, Visha had changed her position slightly. “Careful, Santos. It’s a long fall.” I gestured to the students around him. “If anyone wants to give the House Leader a little push, we’ll let you live when we get to you,” I called over.

Santos scowled. “You’re talking like a man who has a way across the ravine.” He pulled out a knife, just like I’d known he would, and walked over to the wooden pillars that held the ends of the rope bridge. “I think your path ends here, Drakharrow.” He looked down and started to saw at the rope.

Someone near him shouted, but Santos was too distracted with his little knife to notice. I grinned as from the corner of my eye I saw Visha lift her bow. The arrow cut through the spray and hit Alastor Vane high in the shoulder. For a moment, Santos looked confused—and so did Vane. Then the dear professor reacted, letting out a shrill high-pitched scream, his face twisting.

“Get him out of here,” Santos shouted. “Retreat!”

Larissa and Gretchen rushed forward, grabbing Vane and dragging him back from the edge of the gorge and into the tunnel behind them.

Silvio’s head snapped toward us. “You’ll regret that, Vaidya!”

“I doubt it,” Visha yelled. “Want another?” Her bow was already raised. She fired, but Santos dodged.

He’d cut one rope, but the other was still attached. I saw Santos look at it and curse under his breath. My body was tense. This could go one of two ways. We could have a shoot-out across the ravine if Santos called his people back, or they’d retreat—and he’d leave the other rope.

Santos was chickenshit. So he raised his hand in a crude gesture, shouted something I couldn’t quite make out—being on their heels, maybe?—then turned and ran down the tunnel after the rest of his squad. Beside me, Visha grinned.

“You idiots,” Zaira said in disgust from behind me.

“What? Just a bit of harmless fun,” I said, looking back over my shoulder.