by Sabaa Tahir
Page 96
Laia ducks into the tunnel, and I follow. When Helene reaches for the hearthstone to pull it over me, I grab her arm. I want to thank her, apologize to her, beg her forgiveness. I want to drag her down here with me.
“Let me go, Elias. ” She puts soft fingers to my face and smiles a sad, sweet smile that’s mine alone. “Let me go. ”
“Don’t forget this, Helene,” I say. “Don’t forget us. Don’t become like him. ”
She nods once, and I pray that her nod is a promise. Then she takes hold of the stone and pulls the hearth closed.
Ahead of me, Laia inches forward, her hand outstretched as she feels her way through the dark. Seconds later, she drops from my tunnel into the catacombs with a startled yelp.
For now, Helene can cover for us. But when order is restored at Blackcliff, Serra’s ports will shut down, the legionnaires will bar the city gates, and the streets and tunnels will be flooded with soldiers. The drums will beat from here to Antium, alerting every guardhouse and garrison that I’ve escaped. Rewards will be offered; hunting parties will form; ships, wagons, caravans will all be searched. I know Marcus and I know my mother. Neither will stop until they have my head.
“Elias?” Laia doesn’t sound afraid, just wary.
The catacombs are tomb-black, but I know where we are: in a burial chamber that hasn’t been patrolled in years. Ahead of us are three entrances, two that are blocked and one that just looks blocked.
“I’m with you, Laia. ” I reach out and take her hand. She squeezes it.
I take a step, Laia close beside me. Then another. My mind ranges out, planning our next moves: Escape Serra. Survive the road north. Break into Kauf. Save Laia’s brother.
There will be so much more in between. So much uncertainty. I don’t know if we’ll survive the catacombs, let alone the rest of it.
But it doesn’t matter. For now, these steps are enough. These first few precious steps into darkness. Into the unknown.
Into freedom.
