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CHAPTER 14 - MORGAN
Lancelet came to ahalt. She stopped so quickly, I collided with her back, my face pressing against the wool cloak she wore, reminding me that she was a few inches taller.
“What is it?” I hissed softly.
“Don’t move,” she murmured, holding up a hand. “I heard something up ahead. We’re not alone in here.”
She pushed against me, prodding me backwards. Step by step, we moved carefully back the way we had come, trying not to let our booted feet clatter on loose pebbles.
When we came to the last junction we’d taken, Lancelet finally paused, keeping her eyes on the direction we’d just retreated from.
“Are you armed?” she asked bluntly. “There’s someone up there.”
“Someone from the temple?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. They’re just standing there. As if they’re waiting for something. Our people wouldn’t linger. We go in and out.” She clenched her jaw. “I should have known something was wrong. No one’s ever left a door open like that.”
“Is it a soldier? One of Arthur’s men?”
“If it is, they’re not wearing a uniform.” She slid a sheathed knife from her boot, then reached into her tunic and pulled out another.
I think I surprised her when I lifted my cloak and flashed her a glimpse of the rapier I carried on my belt. The hilt of the rapier was a work of art. A twisted metal rose. Part of the Flamebloom set of armor that Draven had crafted for me. Odessa had set aside the weapon in our chambers when she’d helped me dress for the last round of the Blood Rise.
I had taken it just before I’d left Myntra. A keepsake, if you will. Draven... Well, there was no denying he had excellent taste.
A silent understanding passed between us. With a subtle nod, Lancelet turned back the way we had just come, keeping her footsteps slow and steady.
The air was heavy with the musty scent of ancient stone and mildewy dampness. Torches flickered in sconces along the rough-hewn walls, casting wavering shadows that danced eerily in the cramped space and set my heart beating faster.
I had been in battle before, I reminded myself. You could not call what Draven and I had done over Noctasia anything but that.
This was merely one man. And Lancelet was ahead of me. If necessary, she was obviously more than prepared to dispatch him.
We turned the corner.
I could see the man now. He had his back to us. He wore no uniform, but it was clear that he wasn’t a mere innocent civilian. He was dressed for violence in a patchwork of leather and chainmail that clung to his broad frame. One gloved hand rested firmly on the hilt of a sword.
My heart hammered. The man was just outside the door we had exited through only a few hours before, evidently guarding the way back inside. Which meant he wasn't alone.
Who else was with him? How many were there? And what were they doing in the temple? To our friends, to the people we loved?
As if in answer, a shout rang out from beyond the door where the man stood. The man tightened his hand on his weapon but did not move. Evidently he had been instructed to stay put.
I glanced at Lancelet. Her face was grim. She had tightened her grip on the daggers she carried in each hand.
“Wait here,” she whispered.
