“This is Logan?” The girl with the bow sounds surprised. “Rachel said you were locked in a dungeon.”
My voice wheezes as I say, “I escaped.”
“How?”
“Blew up a wall.” My eyes are still locked on Rachel’s.
“Nice.” The girl grins at me. “I’d like to learn that trick.”
“Logan.” Rachel lays a hand on my shoulder as if testing to see if I’m really there.
“I told you I’d find you.”
Her fingers clench around my shoulder, and she slowly curls toward me until she’s laying facedown against my chest. Her weight hurts, but I don’t complain. Instead, I cradle her to me and feel the missing pieces inside of me slide firmly back into place.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
RACHEL
I lie against Logan’s chest listening to him breathe and shake like I’ve been caught out in a snowstorm in nothing but a tunic. He’s here. Alive. Warm and steady beneath me. I haven’t lost everything.
And yet, with Melkin’s blood still on my hands, I’m not convinced. The silence inside consumes me. I want to burrow into him and feel safe. Feel the grief, the anger, and most importantly the hope that I know hovers somewhere just out of reach within me. Digging my fingers into Logan’s shoulder, I desperately try to feel real again.
Beside me the body of the tracker starts beeping, a high-pitched insistent tone that has Logan pushing me to get up.
“Get back!”
He can hardly obey his own instructions. Digging one hand into the ground, he groans as he tries to lift himself off the ground. Transferring Melkin’s walking stick to my other hand, I reach down to help. Quinn joins me and together we scoop our hands under his arms and drag Logan away from the body.
The beeping speeds up.
“What’s going on?” I ask Logan.
“Bomb,” he wheezes, his face white with strain as we drag him into the trees. “Anatomical trigger looped on a closed circuit.”
“Speak English,” Willow says as she falls in step beside me and bends to help carry Logan.
“When his heart stopped, the device began its countdown.”
“Why would anyone—”
The blast throws us to the ground and rains bits of dirt, twigs, and a fine mist I imagine was once the Rowansmark tracker all around us. I land partially on Logan’s chest, and scramble off as he moans in pain.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Broken rib.”
“We need to climb. Now.” Willow is already moving, grasping the nearest branch and swinging into the tree, her bow strung behind her back. “If that explosion didn’t call the Cursed One, it called every highwayman within one hundred fifty yards.”
“Worse.” Logan sounds like he can barely get enough air to speak. “Battalion. Rowansmark. Might have heard.”
Quinn jumps up and circles to Logan’s other side. “Can you get into a tree if we help?”
He nods, and we each take an arm and help him sit up. He sways, and it’s clear that pride is all that keeps him from crying out at the pain. He’s never going to be able to climb a tree. I see the moment he realizes it and decides to sacrifice himself for the rest of us.
“I’ll stall them. You go,” Logan says.
Quinn frowns and looks at me.
“Ignore him. He doesn’t get to play the martyr today.”
“Isn’t that his choice?” Quinn asks.
“Not while I’m still breathing.”
Logan jerks his arm away from Quinn. “Go.”
“Absolutely not,” I say.
“Rachel—”
“I love how you still think if you tell me to do something, I’ll just check my brain at the door and do it.” I try to infuse my voice with anger, but all I feel is fear. I can’t bear to lose him.
“Hey! Idiots who want to argue while disaster is heading our way! Maybe you should shut up and get up a tree,” Willow pokes her head out of a bower of leaves and glares at us.
“Listen.” Quinn holds up his hand for quiet. We fall silent and realize there’s no rumbling. No distant roar coming closer. The Cursed One must be terrorizing people on the other side of the continent or sleeping in its lair, because it isn’t coming.
“Fine. The Cursed One isn’t coming. But the battalion still could be, and I’m not going to watch you die just so these two can figure out who’s in charge.” Willow beckons to Quinn, but he looks at Logan again, and I can tell he doesn’t want to leave him behind.
“Go. I’m fine. I’ll stall them. Or hide.” Logan looks around, and I resist the urge to punch him only because he’s already injured.
“You’re coming with us.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then I’m staying too.”
“I didn’t travel all this way just to watch you die. Please, Rachel.”
He’s all I have left, and he sits there like today is the day he’s going to die, and I should just be fine with it.
“Stop it!” I slam Melkin’s walking stick into the ground. It sinks below the surface about six inches, and the earth beneath us trembles violently.
We freeze, and everyone stares at the ground and then at me.
“What did you just do?” Quinn asks, dread in his voice for the first time since I met him.
I’m shaking my head. “I don’t know. I don’t—I was mad. I hit the ground with the stick, and it just went right into it and then there was—”
My voice wheezes as I say, “I escaped.”
“How?”
“Blew up a wall.” My eyes are still locked on Rachel’s.
“Nice.” The girl grins at me. “I’d like to learn that trick.”
“Logan.” Rachel lays a hand on my shoulder as if testing to see if I’m really there.
“I told you I’d find you.”
Her fingers clench around my shoulder, and she slowly curls toward me until she’s laying facedown against my chest. Her weight hurts, but I don’t complain. Instead, I cradle her to me and feel the missing pieces inside of me slide firmly back into place.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
RACHEL
I lie against Logan’s chest listening to him breathe and shake like I’ve been caught out in a snowstorm in nothing but a tunic. He’s here. Alive. Warm and steady beneath me. I haven’t lost everything.
And yet, with Melkin’s blood still on my hands, I’m not convinced. The silence inside consumes me. I want to burrow into him and feel safe. Feel the grief, the anger, and most importantly the hope that I know hovers somewhere just out of reach within me. Digging my fingers into Logan’s shoulder, I desperately try to feel real again.
Beside me the body of the tracker starts beeping, a high-pitched insistent tone that has Logan pushing me to get up.
“Get back!”
He can hardly obey his own instructions. Digging one hand into the ground, he groans as he tries to lift himself off the ground. Transferring Melkin’s walking stick to my other hand, I reach down to help. Quinn joins me and together we scoop our hands under his arms and drag Logan away from the body.
The beeping speeds up.
“What’s going on?” I ask Logan.
“Bomb,” he wheezes, his face white with strain as we drag him into the trees. “Anatomical trigger looped on a closed circuit.”
“Speak English,” Willow says as she falls in step beside me and bends to help carry Logan.
“When his heart stopped, the device began its countdown.”
“Why would anyone—”
The blast throws us to the ground and rains bits of dirt, twigs, and a fine mist I imagine was once the Rowansmark tracker all around us. I land partially on Logan’s chest, and scramble off as he moans in pain.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Broken rib.”
“We need to climb. Now.” Willow is already moving, grasping the nearest branch and swinging into the tree, her bow strung behind her back. “If that explosion didn’t call the Cursed One, it called every highwayman within one hundred fifty yards.”
“Worse.” Logan sounds like he can barely get enough air to speak. “Battalion. Rowansmark. Might have heard.”
Quinn jumps up and circles to Logan’s other side. “Can you get into a tree if we help?”
He nods, and we each take an arm and help him sit up. He sways, and it’s clear that pride is all that keeps him from crying out at the pain. He’s never going to be able to climb a tree. I see the moment he realizes it and decides to sacrifice himself for the rest of us.
“I’ll stall them. You go,” Logan says.
Quinn frowns and looks at me.
“Ignore him. He doesn’t get to play the martyr today.”
“Isn’t that his choice?” Quinn asks.
“Not while I’m still breathing.”
Logan jerks his arm away from Quinn. “Go.”
“Absolutely not,” I say.
“Rachel—”
“I love how you still think if you tell me to do something, I’ll just check my brain at the door and do it.” I try to infuse my voice with anger, but all I feel is fear. I can’t bear to lose him.
“Hey! Idiots who want to argue while disaster is heading our way! Maybe you should shut up and get up a tree,” Willow pokes her head out of a bower of leaves and glares at us.
“Listen.” Quinn holds up his hand for quiet. We fall silent and realize there’s no rumbling. No distant roar coming closer. The Cursed One must be terrorizing people on the other side of the continent or sleeping in its lair, because it isn’t coming.
“Fine. The Cursed One isn’t coming. But the battalion still could be, and I’m not going to watch you die just so these two can figure out who’s in charge.” Willow beckons to Quinn, but he looks at Logan again, and I can tell he doesn’t want to leave him behind.
“Go. I’m fine. I’ll stall them. Or hide.” Logan looks around, and I resist the urge to punch him only because he’s already injured.
“You’re coming with us.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Then I’m staying too.”
“I didn’t travel all this way just to watch you die. Please, Rachel.”
He’s all I have left, and he sits there like today is the day he’s going to die, and I should just be fine with it.
“Stop it!” I slam Melkin’s walking stick into the ground. It sinks below the surface about six inches, and the earth beneath us trembles violently.
We freeze, and everyone stares at the ground and then at me.
“What did you just do?” Quinn asks, dread in his voice for the first time since I met him.
I’m shaking my head. “I don’t know. I don’t—I was mad. I hit the ground with the stick, and it just went right into it and then there was—”
