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It blazed like a blue moon. A black hole to my right broke the wall. An exit.
I moved beforethe thought registered.
An undead woman hacked down with her sword, nicking my arm. Blood heated my cold skin as I ran.
Two more blocked the tunnel entrance. My light moved with me, and they backed away. The dead only came out at night. Spirits could not brave the sun.
I forced more warmth and life into my mage light. The living needed the heat of the sun and Morovara had said my magic was not what I thought. It was life. The normal blue turned white, then yellow tinged the edge and—soundlessly—the dead screamed.
Dimitri overtook me, shouldered them aside, and we were through. He grabbed my hand, anchoring me to the present while my mind leapt.
I pushed against the death around us, kept the light burning, and reached for the surface. Above, a desire for justice mixed with the hard notes of anger. Chanted protests becoming a chorus to the song of Tal.The courthouse.
The green lines from the book moved behind my eyes. It had no exit, no tunnel marked as going under it, proving the map incomplete. The Royal Theater was close. I dared not pause.
At a crossing, I reached for the clinking of glasses, cultured laughs, and the wildness of griffons only afforded by the wealthy of North’s Place.
Two more turns, and I forced myself to slow, dragging my free hand along the wall. My head filled with wool when I saw my blood-soaked sleeve. I needed to bind it. The theater was close to the hospital, we only needed to find an exit.
Dimitri breathed raggedly; his strong handfused with mine. We were alone.
“Koshka and Yahontov?”
He shook his head, pain and loss and guilt rising in both of us. I had not known them, but I had led them to their death. I should never have shown him the tunnels without more preparation. Perhaps if I snuck around here alone, I would not have been spotted. Perhaps if we had waited, Lumi would have been able to tell us more tomorrow night.
“Perhaps they found another way out,” I said, forcing hope into existence. “There should be an exit around here.”
He nodded, seemingly unhurt but with no words left.
“I didn’t mean to find them—I didn’t know. There are people who can tell you more. Who can help you find them—” I babbled while I searched, needing to speak over the silent accusations inside me. “The rebels will know—”
“Rebels?”
His voice halted me at the same time as aclicksounded in the wall and it slid away. My bloody hand had slid over a picture of five priestesses. I had not meant to blurt out the meeting, especially not after losing two of his companions. Thank the Wishmaker, Dimitri asked nothing more as the door slid shut behind us, and we walked up stairs too narrow to go abreast.
I reduced my light but could not bring myself to extinguish it when we came up on a brick wall, the mortar crumbling. With knife and wind, the prince pounded it until we pushed through with acrash.
Through narrow windows, dawn shone outside, illuminating a manor basement filled with discarded furniture and chests. The meeting was not tomorrow. It was today. We had been searching, fighting, and fleeing the entire night. Finally, I let my light go.
A locked door blocked our way into the main house. The windows were too narrow to escape from. After hammering and shouting to no success we sank to the floor with shoulders pressed against each other. At midday, the servants would wake to prepare for another night of summer parties. We only had to wait.
My head slid down until it rested on his hard shoulder. A shiver went through him. It traveled into me, and each too-tense muscle relaxed.
Time ticked away. Dust danced in the spears of sunlight. I fought the drowsiness that fear left in its wake. Guilt still clenched my stomach. My thoughts spun, part of me lost in the labyrinth below, another too fuzzy with magic.
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine,” I said. “Did you—”
I bit off my question. If he did not know them well, did that lessen the loss of their lives? Lessen my responsibility for yet again not planning well enough?
“No. It’s mine.” His lips brushed my hair, the warm hand that held mine clenched. “They followed me… Leading others, holding the lives of people you have not even met in your hands, your decisions having consequences you never intended… I told you once, royalty is not all it’s cracked up to be, Princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He pulled me closer, voice soft in my sweat-matted hair. “Seems I can’t see you any other way. Cannot look at Helia without thinking of you. Cannot look anywhere and not think of you. Tonight, you almost disappeared again.”
Died. We both almost died.
The rest of his words registered. I should not ask. I had no right. He had just talked of royal duty and responsibility. I did not wantto know the answer, but the question vibrated between us, fueled by the heightened emotions of magic use and relief at still being alive—being able to hold and touch and hope.
