The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)(111)

Genny had dragged the wounded man a short way up Vintage Avenue. But it wasn’t far enough. The giant marble monster was finishing off the wounded, crushing them under his massive feet. He would notice them before long.

The wounded man knew it, too, and she felt him cringe.

Vintage Avenue was one of the finer streets in the city and equipped with storm drains. The large pipes ran under the street and flushed rainwater to the nearby river. Their mouths were as big as barrels; a normal-sized man could wriggle in and disappear.

“Crawl into that drain, and get as deep in as possible without falling in,” she told him. “I’ll be right behind—” She heard the slam of stone on stone. Looking back at the square, she realized the golem had spotted them. The giant statue began its uphill charge. “Damn,” she cursed.

They couldn’t both shimmy into that drainpipe in time.

“Tell Leo I love him,” she said, and ran away from the wounded man. As she did, Genny flailed her arms and shouted, “Villar! You son of a whorish werebat! I’m still alive, and you’re still ugly.”

She wasn’t committing suicide, although she realized it might have looked like it. To the wounded noble, she probably appeared to be sacrificing herself to save him. In reality, she had a plan. Her strategy was to catch Villar’s attention and lure the golem away, granting the nobleman time to escape. This was an easy decision and a simple choice, given that Genny had concluded she couldn’t possibly fit into even a barrel-sized pipe. The second part of her plan was less thought out. She hoped to make it to the carriage shop across the street in time to find shelter for herself. This latter part wasn’t likely, not by a long shot.

So maybe this wasn’t such a smart idea after all.

The reality of her situation crystallized when her exhausted legs finally gave out. With muscles screaming from fatigue, Genny stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. Then she fell face-first in the street as the giant statue of Novron closed in.





Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hide-and-Seek





Royce followed a dirt path outside the ruin, looking for clues. He wasn’t certain what he hoped to find; a dropped note penned by Villar saying I went this way would have been helpful. Hadrian had eventually exited the ruins and circled them twice before wading into where the hawthorn bushes were thick. Royce had no idea where the duchess was—still in the cell if she was smart.

Villar might have returned to the city or gone deeper into the forest. Both plans had advantages and drawbacks. The city was downhill, but the terrain was mainly open. The forest was closer and offered cover. Which way did he go?

Hadrian emerged from the brambles. “Find anything?”

“Nope,” Royce replied.

The two met back at the ruins.

The search was extra credit, and it wouldn’t result in any higher payment. Royce was only looking because Villar had nearly killed him on not just one but two occasions. He didn’t like loose ends, and Royce made a point of not letting those that opposed him live.

He scanned the domed building. Such an odd place.

The roof was the most striking feature, forty feet high and massive. Royce was no engineer, but he couldn’t imagine that creating a dome out of stone was an easy task. The only other one he’d seen was on the top of Grom Galimus, and he wasn’t certain what that was made of—looked like gold but probably was just painted that color. This roof was assembled from solid, hand-cut rock—no mortar—each stone precisely fashioned.

What is this place? Too small for a cathedral, monastery, or church, too elaborate for a house. It appeared to be a temple of some sort, like an overgrown chapel.

“You want to give up, don’t you?” Hadrian asked.

“Not giving up. We found Genny Winter, even saved her life. I bet Gabriel will pay us extra for that. Job is done. Besides, Villar could be anywhere.”

“Pretty good bet he went to Grom Galimus,” Hadrian said as the two entered the temple. “Villar doesn’t seem like the type to just give up.”

“Not our problem, we did—”

They both halted abruptly only a few steps inside the ruined temple.

The first thing Royce noticed was the smell. The interior had an awful odor akin to—

“Smells like someone roasted a dog in here,” Hadrian whispered. The whisper said more than the words. Hadrian had come to the same conclusion Royce had.

Royce took another step and peered into the cell. The room, the whole temple, was deserted, but if that was true . . . “Where’s the duchess?” he whispered back.

“I’m guessing on her way back to Rochelle,” Hadrian replied. He had one hand on the handle of his short sword as he carefully moved toward the fire.

What had been a nearly extinguished pile of faintly smoking ash had come back to life. Flames continued to lick a mostly consumed stack of wood. Royce glanced behind him at the doorway they had entered. He looked at the floor near the wall and found it bare.

“There was a box here,” Royce said. “I saw it when I came out of the cell.”

Hadrian nodded. “Like the one Griswold gave Erasmus. I think that’s what’s burning.”

Royce stared at the fire. “Villar didn’t run away . . . he doubled back.”

“That’s crazy. We were just outside, looking for him. That’s a huge gamble.”