Reign of Shadows (Reign of Shadows, #1)(59)

I understood her purpose with sudden clarity. She was warning me. Giving me time to prepare. Hide. Run. Turning, I moved quickly, slipping my jacket over my tunic and snatching up my dagger and sword.

“I was told an older boy went out on the boats, but a younger boy stayed with you.” Footsteps sounded and I knew he was moving, circling the room, coming closer to the flap covering. “These two sound like they could be my friends.” His voice took on a silky quality that Mirelya didn’t mistake.

“If they’re your friends, how is it you’re not with them?” she challenged.

“We got separated running from dwellers.”

I inched away, still straining to listen as I came closer to the window. When I felt it bump my back, I turned, reaching for the edges of the tarp covering. I loosened the ties anxiously, my fingers tripping in their haste as I untied the fabric from the knobs at the window’s edge. Securing my cap snugly on my head, I swung a leg over the sill and slipped out of the cottage.

I settled my weight carefully on the wood planks, trying not to make a sound. There was only stillness at this back side of the cottage. I didn’t sense a flow of people like in the front. I inhaled and smelled only trees before me, the crispness of leaves fluttering softly in the breeze, the pungent musk of the centuries-old bark.

I pressed myself along the exterior wall of the house, not straying far from the window, still listening for sounds within. My ears separated their voices from the other noises around me. I waited, hoping, my lips moving in silent entreaty for him just to take Mirelya’s word and turn and leave.

A crash carried from inside the cottage. He didn’t believe her.

Mirelya’s voice rang out, “You can’t go in there!”

I pushed off the wall, knowing he would see the open window with its dangling cover. He need only to stick his head out and I would be discovered. One look at me—disguised or not—and he’d recognize my face.

Breathing raggedly, I moved, skimming a trembling hand along the side of the house until I rounded it and came to the front. My feet flew, relying on my memory combined with instinct as I followed the path that wove between trees and homes, bypassing villagers.

I had not gone very far when I heard a bellow. I froze for a moment before resuming my pace.

The cry came again and it was distinctly male and closer. Reedy and thin, it wrapped around me like a closing fist.

“Stop!”

My heart lurched. The heavy beat of his footsteps followed his cry. He was coming after me.

I ran. Desperate fire burned through me. My ears strained, listening and feeling with my skin, with my every nerve and pore and muscle. It didn’t even matter if I fell. If he caught me I was dead anyway.

No one would stop him.

I bumped a woman’s shoulder. She snapped at me in annoyance. I rushed ahead. There were more sounds behind me. He wasn’t being careful in his pursuit of me either.

Someone stepped into my path before I could stop my momentum. We collided. I fell over him in a tumble of limbs. I staggered back to my feet, gasping out an apology as I continued ahead.

I reached the bigger thoroughfare that we had walked down when we first arrived. It was bustling with people this time of day. The fresh aroma of bread and dried meat filled my nose and made me ache for home even as I was running for my life. Perhaps because of it. The thought of Perla flitted across my desperate thoughts. My warm bedchamber. Sitting with Sivo before the fire as he sharpened weapons.

Someone grabbed at my arm, but I dodged free. The end of the lane approached. I heard the chains of the lift rattling in the breeze. I stopped before the ground dropped down to the lift platform. I hopped off, tottering on the edge of the platform, arms wide at my sides for balance. One wrong step and I would plummet.

I could hear his panting breaths and curses behind me. My pulse hammered, drumming in my neck.

I arrived at the far side of the landing. My hand groped at a giant tree there, finding and seizing a curling branch. I circled my arms around it and leaped, scooting up until I reached its trunk. From there, I scaled a little bit higher, grabbing another branch, then another. Fortunately, the branches were as big as I was and strong enough to support me. My arms burned as I climbed, no clear direction in mind except away.

I heard Anselm below, climbing up after me, cursing and gasping for breath as his shoes and hands scuffed against bark.

My arms worked, straining, pulling me along. I reached for another branch, this one extending from another tree. It was a little too far. My shoulder screamed as I stretched harder for it. I knew it was there. I could sense its presence, hear its creak on the wind. Please, please . . .

I choked with relief as I grasped hold of it and swung, crossing over into the neighboring tree, finding footing on a lower branch.

My mind raced ahead, trying to strategize beyond the idea of merely getting away from him. I needed a plan.

If I made it down to the ground below, I could lose him in the forest. There was no rescue coming. This was all on me.

Following that logic, I started to reach for lower branches, at times even scaling the tree trunk itself, sliding down against the rough bite of bark that rubbed my skin raw in places. My arms quivered from exertion, whimpers escaping me.

My fingers dug deep, nails cracking and splintering from the abuse. My boot lost its foothold and I dropped several feet before I hit another branch. The impact stopped me—and shot pain to every fiber in my body.