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I should have told Rocco to leave me a weapon.
Then again, maybe quicker is better.
An arm hooks under mine, pulling me away from the chest, lifting me to my feet, dragging me forward. I trip over myself for a few feet before I realize Rocco is supporting my weight, half carrying me across the floor.
“I told you to go,” I say.
“Execute me later.” He takes hold of the rope. “Can you hold on to me?”
The door explodes inward. Rocco doesn’t wait for an answer and swings us onto the rope, and for a terrifying moment, the world spins wildly, the flaming arch swirling through my vision. The rope brushes my fingers, and I grab hold with my strong hand, trying to support some of my own weight, but we still descend too quickly. Rocco’s legs hit the palace wall as he rappels downward.
I hear the swip before I recognize the sound, and in the darkness below, Tessa cries out. A man is in the window with a crossbow.
“Run!” I cry. “Tessa, run!” She should have gone with Harristan. She shouldn’t be here.
The rope jerks, and Rocco swears. We bounce against the wall one more time.
Then the rope gives altogether.
We hit the ground. It hurts spectacularly. I try to roll, as if that will somehow make it hurt less, but it doesn’t.
“Corrick.” Tessa’s voice, low and desperate in my ear. “Corrick, you have to get up.”
Swip. I feel the rush of an arrow near my head, but I can’t move. I hear a crossbow snap close by, and I flinch, but I blink and realize it’s Thorin and Rocco, returning fire. Men above are arguing, shouting at each other about who cut the rope.
Then I’m lifted again. Someone has an arm under mine. My vision goes spotty, flaring with light. Flames have erupted from dozens of windows along the back wall of the palace. The alarms keep blaring, and I want to lie down right here. I don’t know who has me, but if it’s Rocco, I’ll have to stop hating him.
Then I hear Harristan’s voice in my ear, rough and ragged. “Race you to the gate?”
It’s a taunt from when we were children. His voice is so low and close that I realize he’s the one holding me up. I blink at him. His face is smudged with soot, but his eyes are dark with concern. “You’ll win this time,” I say.
“Come on, Cory,” he says, and he takes a step forward, supporting my weight, gasping from the effort. “Let’s make it a tie.”
