The Last Namsara (Iskari #1)(96)

“Asha . . .”

In that one word, she heard so much more than just her name.

She heard all the sleepless nights he’d spent pacing the ramparts, wondering what was happening to her. She heard all the shouted arguments he’d had with her brother, who was bound by an ancient law to sentence his own sister to death. She heard all the things that led him here, to the belly of the palace, with two unconscious guards at his back and the keys to her cell in his hand.

“You’re mad,” she whispered.

Smiling her favorite smile, Torwin slid both hands around her neck and kissed her.

Asha, who’d become accustomed to the harsh chill of the dungeon, dug her fingers into his hair. She pulled him into her, craving his warmth.

“Maybe I am,” he whispered back, breaking away. “Come on.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, then bent to pick something up off the floor. It was the garment that had fallen from the dinner tray—a pine-green mantle. Stepping in close, he flung it around Asha’s shoulders, tying the tassels at her throat, then flipped up the hood to conceal her face.

Together, they walked out into the torchlit bays of the dungeon. Through the long shadows stretching from wall to wall, Asha saw more unconscious guards. Some lying in the dirt, others half propped against the walls. One of them was already coming to, groaning softly.

“You did this?”

“I had help.”

They moved quickly through the shadow and torchlight and took the stairs up into the palace. They ran through sleepy corridors and silhouetted gardens. Past soldats making their nightly rounds. By the time the soldats realized who they were, Asha and Torwin were already down the hall or across the court or through the garden.

Frantic shouts and thudding boots rang out behind them. Asha thought they were making for the front gate, but when Torwin turned down hallways that led farther into the heart of the palace, she halted, thinking he didn’t know where he was going, and tried to drag him in the opposite direction.

“No,” he said. “This way.”

As three soldats careened into each other not twenty paces behind them, Asha decided to trust him.

Just when they hit a dead end, Torwin tugged her through a plain wooden door. Shutting it behind them, Asha found herself in a narrow, dusty passageway that smelled of mildew.

A secret passage.

Asha had grown up with rumors of the palace’s secret passageways, but she’d never found any, and had always thought that’s all they were: rumors.

“How did you find this?”

“Dax showed me.”

Asha marveled. What other secrets had her brother been keeping from her all these years?

“Come on.”

He pulled her onward, through the stone-flagged darkness to another, older, door. One with rusted hinges and weak, rotting wood. Torwin pressed his eye to the sliver of light carving a line through the dark, peering into the room beyond, checking to see if it were occupied.

Asha leaned against the cold, damp wall. As her heart slowed and her breath came easier, reason came crashing down around her. They were surrounded; every soldat in the city was looking for them now; and once caught, she would lose him all over again.

“Torwin, there’s nowhere to go.”

Didn’t he realize that? They were deep in the palace, with every soldat alert and looking for them.

Keeping his eye pressed to the slit, Torwin said nothing.

“Even if we manage to elude them, even if there were someplace safe to escape to, my brother would be obligated to hunt me down. He can’t just let me go.”

Torwin whirled on her then.

“Listen to me.” He took her shoulders in his hands. “We’re in this together now. So we can give up and hand ourselves over, or we can run. But whatever we do, we’re doing it together.”

Asha looked up into his shadowed face. Lifting her fingers, she traced his cheekbone and jaw.

“Okay,” she said. “I guess we’re running.”

He grabbed her wrist and kissed her palm, then turned back to the door.

“Ready?” he asked, sliding the rusty pins out of the hinges, then dropping them to the floor.

“Ready for what?”

“The door’s locked. We have to break it open.”

Asha froze. “What?”

“On the count of three,” he said, coming to join her against the wall.

“One . . .”

“Torwin—”

“Two . . .” He twined his fingers through hers.

“I don’t think—”

“Three!”

They ran at the door, charging it with their shoulders. It broke open on the first try. The rusted hinges gave and the rotten wood cracked away from the lock. The door fell flat to the floor with Asha on top of it and Torwin on top of her.

“By the skies, did you crawl here?”

A familiar, silhouetted form leaned against the wall. Arms crossed. Knee bent.

“I left you in that dungeon ages ago.”

Torwin grinned up at Safire as he hopped to his feet, grabbed Asha’s hand, and hauled her up.

“Come on.” The new commandant pushed away from the wall. “We need to hurry.”

They were in one of the orchards. Safire led them through the silhouetted trees, their twisted branches reaching for the lightening sky.