Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(101)

In between us, Kelsine was slinking toward me, her wings still tucked against her sides. She was exhausted, and in no shape to defend herself, let alone fight on our behalf.

From the opposite end of the hall, another voice sounded.

“Mira Minkoba!” Tirta wore a hard scowl. In spite of her earlier claims of friendship, seven Luminary Guards flanked her.

My heart sank into the floor and through the depths of the island of Khulan. We were trapped on both sides. Twenty-three of them against six of us. And unless Aaru and Chenda were going to surprise me in the next few minutes, only two of us were trained for combat.

“With the authority granted to me,” Tirta went on, “by the Luminary Council of Darina and Damyan, I place you under arrest.”

“I’m already in prison,” I muttered.

Gerel snorted and drew her sword. “Make your friend let me out of my cage next.”

“Obviously.” I swung my backpack off, blankets flying everywhere, and dug for one of the knives. Noorestones scraped my skin, but it wasn’t a long search. I passed the knife through the bars as the sound of twenty-three pairs of boots grew louder. Closer.

“Why do you have all those noorestones?” Gerel asked.

I passed knives to Hristo, who’d just been freed from his cell, and then Chenda and Ilina.

“Stay in the middle,” Hristo said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.” He drew both his knife and sword, and positioned himself facing Tirta.

I believed him. Of course I did. But just in case, I made sure to get an extra knife for myself.

Ilina went to work on Gerel’s door, and I found myself in front of Aaru’s cell.

He was standing at the front already, watching me with those dark eyes. Wordlessly, I slipped a knife through the bars, and when he took the weapon, fingers brushing mine, it felt like my heart was scattering apart.

Metal screamed as Gerel exploded from her cell, and both she and Hristo clashed blades with our jailers.

And then the earth shook.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR




THE FLOOR JERKED BENEATH OUR FEET.

Someone down the hall screamed in pain. Others cried out in alarm. Kelsine roared. I crashed against the bars of Aaru’s cell, clutching the iron to stay upright. My noorestone skittered across the floor and the backpack spilled open. Blue light flared, creating eerie, jumping shadows across the walls and cells.

The whole earth seemed to roar below us, around us, and above us. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling, making the hall dim and difficult to see through. My breath scraped and my tongue went dry. Every sound muted except that of the earthquake, which remained a thunder and roar and overpowering vibration in my chest.

Tirta’s voice pierced the din: “Arrest Mira!”

Altan, for his part, seemed to want me dead, though Gerel and the shifting ground made that difficult. I knew too much about him—about the Drakon Warriors—and he couldn’t let me leave this place. Every instinct in me screamed to flee—to fly through the hall and up the stairs and fight my way to open air. This was the sound of Khulan raising his mace to punish us.

My fingers scraped against the dark iron of Aaru’s cell as the ground swirled and buckled. I’d never had to fight so hard to stay upright, but the earth had never turned against me like this before. Was everyone in the world feeling this? Or was it limited to the cellblock? I’d already proven I could do something impossible with noorestones, and Aaru could plunge a whole room into darkness and silence. But this wasn’t me. And it didn’t look like Aaru’s doing.

“Aaru!” I had to shout to be heard, but even so, his name shuddered from me in five pieces.

His knife had fallen, lost somewhere in the rubble. Alarm and fear warred on his face, and his hands were tight around the bars, barely touching mine. Though his mouth moved, no sound emerged.

“We’ll be fine,” I lied. “We’re going to get out of this.”

It seemed more likely we’d get buried alive. Or buried dead, if Altan had his way. How long could this earthquake continue? How much shaking and shuddering could the Heart of the Great Warrior take? It was two thousand years old. Surely it had been under this kind of stress before.

Aaru shook his head, acknowledging my lie without judgment.

“We have an advantage.” My words came in short gasps and awkward clumps as the ground jerked. I couldn’t find Altan in the chaos, but his voice soared over the cacophony, all volume and no clarity. “The hallway is narrow,” I yelled to Aaru. Narrow enough to bottleneck the armies on both sides, preventing Hristo or Gerel from fighting more than two people at a time. It was still a lot, though, especially with the earthquake. How long could they keep it up? Especially against strong, well-fed opponents?

At last, Ilina staggered toward us, key in hand. I backed away as she fumbled for the lock; the key scraped around the hole as the ground rumbled beneath us.

Then, the bars slid open and Aaru was free.

The earthquake ended, leaving a sharp emptiness in the hall. A distant stillness.

The patter of dislodged stones, the clash of metal on metal, the sobbing of prisoners, the whine of a young dragon: it all seemed unnaturally loud. Hristo and Gerel still fought, grunting and heaving against the warriors and Luminary Guards. Chenda stood in the center of our group, knife in hand and looking unsure what to do, and wary of Kelsine, who’d retreated from Altan and his friends.