Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(60)

Now I didn’t know where the others were, if they were even alive. The warriors had been after me. Altan had been about to slap me. But now? Nothing.

I crawled under the table.

Complete darkness.

Complete silence.

The days of being trapped alone in my cell crashed down on me again, making me sway through the inky space. I would crumble like this. If the lights ever came back, if sound ever returned, Altan and his friends would find me huddled beneath the table, wondering if I was trapped somewhere between life and death.

And what about Aaru? He’d been . . . tortured. While I’d done nothing to stop it.

The table was in the same place as Before Darkness; I had to assume everything else was as well. Including Aaru.

With a murmured prayer for bravery—which, of course, I couldn’t even hear echoed in my head—I scooted out from under the table (not the way I’d come, where the guards and Altan would be) and risked the two steps to where Altan had left his jacket on the other chair.

It was still there, the leather soft and worn in my fingers. My sense of touch, at least, remained. As I mapped the room in my head, a part of me wondered who else was risking movement. Could they see or hear? Maybe I was the only one trapped in this void of sight and sound.

My stomach twisted at the thought. If I was the only one, everyone might be watching me. I could be grabbed at any moment.

But nothing had happened yet. And I had to move if I wanted to help Aaru. It was my fault he was here. It was my responsibility to help him.

I draped the jacket over my shoulders and let my numbers do the work. One, two, three . . . I stepped in Aaru’s direction, both of my hands slightly in front of me, in case I miscalculated.

My foot slid over a sharp, slick object that cut through my slipper and grazed the sole of my foot, but didn’t break the skin. Still. I had to be more careful. The object had made no scrape on the stone, offered no indication of what it might be. There could be more debris from . . . whatever had happened.

It took extra time, and I had no idea how long this darkness and silence would last, but I had to know what I’d stepped on. I knelt and felt around the floor until my fingers brushed the offending object. It was slightly warm, smooth sided, and sharp along the edges. Crystalline.

A noorestone shard.

One—or maybe more—of the noorestones had exploded. I remembered now.

I forced myself three more steps, even more cautious as I crept toward Aaru. Seven more shards rolled under my feet, and countless—even to me—tiny fragments slipped beneath me, like the floor was covered in a thin layer of sand.

Here. I should be standing right in front of Aaru. But this vast and unending silence locked away any shout for help, any whisper of reassurance, any gasp of pain.

“Please, Damina.” The silence swallowed my voice.

I lifted my hand ahead of me until my fingertips grazed hot skin. Aaru, I hoped. His head, most likely.

He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Maybe he was dead.

That was a horrible thought. I wanted to crush it as soon as it formed. But it was a possibility, wasn’t it?

“Shut up.” Like the anxiety ever listened. Like I even had a voice now.

My fingers crept upward along a smooth plane of skin. His cheek, it felt like. I let my fingers travel up his temple until they reached the strap on his forehead. I searched for the buckle, unclipped it, and slid the leather off.

As fast as possible, I found the other five straps and unclipped them, then lifted his feet out of the basins. Away from the hot noorestones.

With Aaru free of the bindings, I threw the jacket over him. He was burning up, but I recalled chills during my fever; he’d need the warmth. If he was alive. I couldn’t tell if he was, or how I was supposed to get him out of here, or if there was any sort of hope at all.

I took Aaru by the shoulders and shook him. “Wake up.” But, of course, I had no voice here. There was only silence.

::Wake up,:: I tapped against his shoulder.

Nothing. He didn’t move.

I let one hand slide down to his chest, and the other up to his throat. Slowly, distantly, I found what I’d been seeking: his pulse fluttered under my fingertips, and his chest lifted with breath. He had a heartbeat.

Just as I was ready to try throwing Aaru over my shoulder, a haze of blue light flashed through the room. Noorestone light.

It vanished quickly, leaving me no time to inspect Aaru or look for the other occupants of the room. Its only gift was light spots that danced in front of my eyes, and heavy tears squeezing from between my eyelids. I blinked them away. Now, I knew four things:

1. I was not blind.

2. The lights were not gone forever.

3. Altan and his friends would be furious.

4. I had to move.

In the dark again, I grabbed for Aaru’s arm and pulled him forward. His whole body shuddered as he slumped toward me. I angled my right shoulder under him and tried to lift, but in spite of being so thin, he was heavy. Or I just wasn’t very strong.

Light tore through the darkness again, and this time, I caught hints of movement from the guards. Or maybe that had been Rosa; the light was gone too soon for me to tell.

“Come on,” I hissed. I could hear my own voice, though it was muffled inside my head. In addition to not being blind, it seemed I wasn’t deaf, either. Likely, I still existed as well, which was distantly comforting.

I heaved Aaru up, but he was too heavy, too tall. I fell backward with a sharp cry, the weight of an unconscious boy on top of me. My breath whooshed out in a faint oof, and pain sliced through my back and shoulders and legs. The shattered noorestone. I’d forgotten about it and now shards cut through my skin.