Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(49)

Another explosion bloomed to the left, crashing directly in the center of King Gaius’s supporters. Bodies and debris flew through the air, catching fire, the carnage extending into the rest of the audience, who began to scatter in all directions. Now they screamed for their own lives instead of Lysandra’s head.

Stunned, Gregor’s warning echoed in Lysandra’s ears: “When the sorceress’s blood is spilled, they will finally rise. And the world will burn.”

If Lysandra wasn’t mistaken, the world was burning right now.

“Lys! Help!” Tarus yelled. A guard was hauling the boy backward toward the dungeon, away from the sudden chaos.

She didn’t hesitate. She lunged toward the fallen executioner and turned to slice through her bindings with his discarded ax. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the royals being ushered away toward the safety of the palace by a flank of red-uniformed guards who stepped over bodies strewn on the ground below the dais.

Lysandra jumped down from the stage, shoving and punching anyone in her path as she tried to get to Tarus.

An iron bar of an arm came around her throat from behind. She clawed at it, fighting and kicking. A man had fallen to the ground nearby, screaming, his body ablaze.

“Let go of me!” she shouted.

“Why? Do you have somewhere else you need to be?”

She froze. The firm arm was clad in the hateful red uniform, but as soon as she heard him speak, she stopped fighting.

Her captor loosened his hold just enough for her to spin around and confirm his identity.

“Jonas!” The word was nothing more than a throaty rasp.

He didn’t greet her with a smile, not even a smug, self-satisfied one. He didn’t even look at her; his gaze was fixed on the crowd, his expression deadly serious.

“That explosion hit closer to you than I wanted,” he growled. “Idiot doesn’t know how to follow orders. He killed too many people today. And he came damn close to killing you, too.”

Jonas wasn’t remotely gentle as he began yanking her along with him, following Tarus and the other guard through the melee. Thousands of spectators fled the explosions, and the detonations kept coming. One after another after another.

Two guards raced past them without giving them a second glance. A third slowed his steps and cast Lysandra a sour look.

“Where are you going with the prisoners?” he demanded of Jonas and the other guard—another disguised rebel, Lysandra had figured out—who had Tarus by his shirt.

“I was told to take them back to the dungeon until this area is secure,” Jonas said. “Unless you want to take them?”

“No. Carry on. And make haste.” The guard continued on his way.

“Oh, I’ll make haste,” Jonas spat past his gritted teeth.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Lysandra growled. “Because you’re doing a great job so far.”

“Good to see you, too. Oh, and you’re welcome for saving your arse. Now shut up.”

Jonas moved so swiftly that Lysandra nearly tripped over her own feet. She was weak from dehydration and hunger, from grief and fear. What did he think he was doing? He and this other boy had just risked their own necks to rescue her and Tarus. Idiots!

“You don’t think anyone will recognize you dressed like that?” she hissed. “It’s not like that uniform covers your face.”

“What part of shut up don’t you understand?”

“Who’s that with Tarus?” She eyed the boy now ten paces ahead of them.

“A friend. Now do me a big favor and please act like a prisoner so we don’t draw more attention.”

Lysandra shut up.

The four of them reached the guarded opening in the eastern wall that allowed the river to flow through the heart of the city, providing it with its main water supply. The frightened crowd was trying to squeeze through the exit as fast as they could.

A guard stepped in front of them. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We’re leaving,” Jonas replied.

“You’re leaving the city with the prisoners?”

“Yes, that was the plan.”

The guard looked closely at Jonas’s face, and Lysandra’s heart sank. “You—I know you. You’re Jon—”

The hilt of a sword struck the guard suddenly in the head. He fell to reveal another guard standing behind him, one whose carrot-colored hair stuck out at all angles and clashed with the crimson shade of his uniform.

Jonas flashed him a smile. “Good to see you, Nic.”

The redheaded guard grinned back at him. “It’s good to be seen.”

“When your friends wake up, please thank them for lending us their uniforms. They were very useful.”

“If they wake up they’ll be blamed for letting a couple rebels get the better of them. Nice display back there. I’m almost impressed.” Nic slapped Jonas on his back. “Now get out of here and don’t look back.”

Without another moment’s delay, the four of them fled the city. Jonas and his friend discarded their stolen uniforms in a nearby forest where they’d hidden their regular clothes, as well as some food and water for Lysandra and Tarus. They made them drink and eat as they walked, putting as much distance between them and the city as possible.