Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(99)

“Let’s put the noorestones in here.” My sore shoulder groaned in relief as I lowered the reins and my makeshift bag to the floor, and then took one of the packs from the cabinet. A small pouch on the front already held a small field medical kit. That was useful. I took two more all-purpose medical kits, two burn kits, and three jackets. “They might be hurt. We need to be prepared to treat wounds.”

We worked quickly, wrapping crystals with the dress strip, two empty backpacks, and two of the jackets. There wasn’t enough space for the third jacket, so I slipped it on over my tattered dress.

“Anything else?” she asked. “The longer we take, the more likely it is that Altan will wake up or someone will find him.”

“Knives.” I added seven—one for each of us—to the bag and pulled the drawstrings tight. The light of the stones squeezed through the seams and the cinched top, but this would do for now.

“Ready?” Tirta asked, sliding the dragon reins into her belt.

“Yes.” I slung one bow and quiver over my good arm; Ilina had taken lessons when she was younger. Then I fitted two swords—one for Hristo and one for Gerel—into loops on the backpack. My hurt shoulder felt like it was on fire as I slipped on the backpack, and a low moan poured from my throat.

“Let me carry that.” Tirta reached for the bag, but I backed away. I couldn’t trust her. Not when she’d lied to me about who she was. She’d lied for months and knew things she shouldn’t and . . .

“Who do you work for?”

Her expression darkened. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to help you—”

“Then tell me who you work for.”

Her shoulders slumped in resignation. “The same people who sent you here. The Luminary Council.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE




PANIC FLOODED MY VEINS. I WANTED TO RUN. NEEDED to run.

But I was loaded down with the backpack and weapons, and Tirta was blocking the door. She stepped toward me, one hand outstretched. “Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” The noorestones in my pack were impossible to reach, especially with my hurt shoulder, but I took one from a sconce on the wall and gripped it so tightly my knuckles paled. “You lied to me about who you were. About how long you’ve been here. You said you were here to look out for me, but all along you worked for them.”

Her face hardened, and the sweet, friendly girl I’d known disappeared once more. “Don’t do this, Mira.”

I should have taken a weapon. A real one. Knives were fairly self-explanatory. And even though I’d done something with a noorestone in the interrogation room, I wasn’t sure what. Or how. Or if I could again.

And I couldn’t trade the noorestone for a knife now, or Tirta would realize I wasn’t in control of this . . . power.

“I’m on your side, Mira.” In spite of her insistence, her fingers curled on the baton she’d taken from Altan. “If you just listen to me, you’ll understand that I’m trying to help. But we need to move quickly or the Luminary Guard will realize something’s wrong. I’ve missed my check-in already.”

“They’re here?” My heart pounded as I shoved past her, but the hall was empty when I looked.

Tirta grabbed my arm. “Mira—”

Every single noorestone in the room dimmed.

Immediately, she backed off, retreating farther into the armory.

My face must have revealed my shock, but before Tirta could act, I stepped into the hall and pulled the door after me.

The keys were still in the lock, jangling as the latch clicked into place. A thud sounded on the other side of the door as Tirta rushed forward and grabbed the handle, but I twisted the key and the bolt slid home.

“Mira!” She banged on the door. “Let me out!”

“I’m sorry.” I drew the keys from the lock and stowed the ring on the hilt of a sword. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

Just as I aimed myself toward the first level again, I realized my error: I hadn’t taken the dragon reins. They were secured in Tirta’s belt, where she’d put them right before admitting her association with the Luminary Council.

Indecision stalled me. I’d taken the long way to the first level solely to retrieve the reins. But if I went back for them, Tirta would be waiting on the other side of the door. And she had a room full of weapons.

Well, I had a room full of noorestones.

But I had no idea how to harness their power.

A low rumble filled my ears. Footfalls? Tirta? Luminary Guards? More angry baby dragons? It was impossible to tell, but that made the decision for me: I ran.

Although I’d secured everything as well as possible, the extra weight slowed me, made my heart thrum heavily and my breath scrape inside my chest. It hurt, but I forced myself onward, careening around corners and down a flight of stairs.

I was not built for running, even when I wasn’t loaded down with noorestones and weapons.

But I kept going. Even when cramps gripped my sides, and when fire throbbed through my shoulder. Even when sweat poured down my body and soaked my skin, and when my breath came in short, shuddering gasps. Even when black spots swarmed around the edges of my vision—and then everything faded into faint shadows. I knew where to go. My work cleaning had burned into my mind the number of steps to and from different places, and I used that as a map.