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“Then why not go for the door right now?” she demanded, waving a hand toward the exterior door to the suite.
“Because there are six drugged-up Fae assassins on the other side, waiting to kill us if we do.”
Her face blanched and she rubbed at her chest. “Trapping us. I need to get out.”
“You will.”
She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly, losing herself in panic.
Ithan glanced across the room. The three sprites—now curled up beside Flynn and dozing as violet balls of flame—hadn’t seemed too panicked. Quiet, but … focused. Like they were accustomed to facing fear. It made his guts twist to think about it.
“Sabine will come for me again,” Sigrid said. “Won’t she?”
“She’ll try, but we’ll be long out of the city by the time she recovers.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t we leave immediately? When you took me out of the tank?”
Ithan stiffened. “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”
“A house with those buffoons was the best—”
“Those buffoons are my friends, and some of the best fighters I know,” Ithan warned, temper flaring. “Those buffoons risked their lives for you tonight—saved you tonight.”
Her teeth bared. “If Sabine will recover, then let me get to her body and rip it to—”
“Believe me, the thought crossed my mind. But …”
He didn’t finish the thought.
“But what?”
He shook his head, not letting himself go there, even mentally. “It’s late,” he said. “You should sleep.”
“I won’t be able to.”
“Then try,” he said, perhaps a bit more sharply than necessary.
Sigrid glared at him, then glanced toward the door to Tharion’s bedroom. “Was that the mer you wanted to get to help us?”
“Yes.”
She snorted. “I don’t think he’ll be much help to anyone. Not even himself.”
“You should sleep,” he said again. He’d had enough of this.
“Is this a thing you do frequently?” she asked suddenly. “Liberate people enslaved to others?”
“Only recently,” he said wearily.
He didn’t wait for her to reply before he walked to Tharion’s room, threw himself on the ground beside the heavily sleeping male, and closed his eyes.
6
About twenty feet into the tunnel, the beasts tapered off. They remained still, watchful, until Bryce had passed the last of them. Until she found bars blocking the way, save for a small door on the left side of the barrier. The door swung open at the touch of her hand. She had to stoop to get through, but it had clearly been designed to keep the beasts from getting out.
She made sure to shut the door behind her.
The metal groaned, and then hissing, like a swarm of angry wasps, filled the tunnel.
