“I’m leaving,” I say to Marcus. “I’m going to find Logan and help him. He’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t get out of Rowansmark,” Ian says. “There are soldiers on every corner. And the moment the guards find the dungeon empty, every single soldier will be on the lookout for you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a plan. Besides, I can’t stay here. You came down with orders to kill me. If you don’t do it, Rowan will just send someone else. You get your father to safety.” I meet Ian’s eyes. “And if you happen to see Quinn in the city, don’t kill him. Don’t report him. In fact, do your best to help him. You owe him that. You owe all of us that.”
“You’re leaving him?”
“Oh, we’ll be back for him.” And when we find a way to return for Quinn, we’ll finish wreaking the havoc he started. We’ll break the city’s power base and remove James Rowan from leadership. Permanently.
It makes me sick to think of leaving Quinn behind, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t move freely throughout the city. I don’t have time to look for him. Logan, and anyone else with him, will die if I don’t meet them outside the city and tell them what they’re facing. Quinn would understand. In fact, he’d tell me to go. I just hope if Willow is with Logan, she understands my decision before she decides to put an arrow in me for abandoning her brother.
Turning, I hurry down the hall until I get to the sewage closet. Opening the door, I gag at the sharp stench that rises out of the pipe. I don’t know when the dam floodgate attached to the main pipe is opened to allow a thorough rinsing of the system, but I need to be out of the pipe before the water hits.
“You’ll need this.” Ian walks toward me and holds out his cloak. I narrow my eyes, and he glares. “I owe you. Remember?”
I take the cloak and wrap it around myself. It smells of smoke and fried cinnamon cakes.
“This too. Unless you want to accidentally stab yourself in the foot.” He hands me the sheath to go with his dagger.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “And don’t say you owe me, because up until a few minutes ago, the only thing you thought you owed me was death.”
He clenches his jaw and glances back at Marcus, who leans heavily against the wall outside his cell. “I just want to be the son he thinks he has.”
I don’t have an answer to that, so I grab the edges of the pipe and try to lift my legs inside. My back spasms, and I gasp as pain sears me.
Ian wraps his hands around my waist, and I snap, “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me.”
He lets go, and I bare my teeth against the pain and work to get my legs into position.
“It lets out in the swamp just south of the city. The water runs through at sunset. If you aren’t out of the pipe by then, you’ll drown.” Ian’s voice sounds distant, though he’s still right beside me. “There are alligators in the swamp, though they won’t be close to the pipe, since they can’t survive the toxic water there. The fastest way out of the swamp is to the east.”
I can’t make myself say thank you, so instead I look at Marcus and say, “I’ll keep my promise.”
“Logan? Love? Mine. Love?”
“Yes. I’ll tell him you love him.” I sit in the pipe and hold its sides tightly for one more second, and then I take a deep breath, release my grip, and slide feetfirst down the shaft.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF–NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
CHAPTER FORTY
LOGAN
The morning we dock above the Rowansmark dam, I wake to find the Commander standing over me, his sword pointed at my chest, his dark eyes glaring. I jerk in surprise and swallow hard against the sudden fear that floods me.
“Get up.”
I obey. Orion and two other soldiers are in the room standing over Frankie, Adam, Smithson, and Connor. I imagine the same scenario is being played out in the room shared by Willow, Jodi, and Nola. The Commander has decided our usefulness to him has come to an end. I just hope the plan I put in place with Captain Burkes is enough to keep the Commander from deciding our lives should come to an end as well.
“Move.” The tip of his sword jerks toward the door.
I get up and put on my cloak, thankful that I hid the transmitters along with Melkin’s staff in the boat’s engine room two days ago.
The air is already warm—the damp, clinging warmth that Rowansmark is known for—as I step out of my room and find Willow, Jodi, and Nola waiting on the deck. Nola’s arms are crossed over her stomach, and she stares at the deck while Jodi wraps an arm around her shoulders, but Willow glares at everyone in the general vicinity. The Commander shoves me next to her, and she hisses, “They didn’t even bother threatening me. Just threatened Nola. What was I supposed to do? They’d have killed her if I attacked them. Look what happens when you have friends.”
I give her a tiny smile and nudge her boot with mine as Adam hurries to her side and gathers her close. “Yeah. Look what happens when you have friends.”
“Be quiet.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been taken captive at sword point twice in one trip. Quinn is never going to let me live that down.”
“He never has to know.” I scan the deck for Captain Burkes, and my stomach drops when I don’t see him. If he doesn’t show up now, we’re in trouble.
“Where’s the captain?” Frankie asks.
I shake my head and keep watching the lower deck as if I can will him to appear.
“Change of plan, then. What will it be?” Frankie asks softly from my other side as he shields Connor from the rough hands of the Commander’s first lieutenant. “Charge the lot of them and fight to the death, or go over the rail and swim for shore?”
I look around us and realize the boat is anchored just off the shore above Rowansmark’s dam. If we jumped, we might be able to swim against the river’s current. We might be able to dodge the arrows the Commander will surely fire at us.
But I can’t leave the staff behind. Not if I want to truly deliver justice and protect my people at the same time. I have one chance to put my plan into place. I have to take it and hope the captain comes through.
“Jump. Count of three.” I take a step forward to put distance between myself and my people. If I distract the Commander, they’ll have a better chance of escape.
“Wait a minute.” Frankie’s hand descends on my shoulder. “Either we all go or none of us go.”
I turn to him as the Commander says, “On your knees.”
“I need the staff.” I mouth the words, and Frankie squares his shoulders.
“Then we fight,” he says, even though none of us have our weapons.
“Halt!” The captain’s voice slices through the morning air. Relief hits hard, and my hands shake as I raise my eyes to his.
“This is no concern of yours,” the Commander says brusquely.
“My ship, my concern.” The captain, a tall man with leathery skin and short red hair, stalks up to the Commander, radiating authority. “What is going on here?”
“Mutiny.” The Commander turns back toward us.
“Are these people subject to your authority?” the captain asks.
“No, we are not.” Connor’s voice is clear and crisp. “We are citizens of Lankenshire, allied with the Commander in the effort to defeat Rowansmark. We are not subject to the Commander’s authority outside of military operational matters.”
The Commander snarls, “They’re from Baalboden—”
“The seal on my cloak says otherwise.” Connor steps forward, and I feel a rush of pride for him.
“There will be no bloodshed on my boat.” The captain looks at the Commander. “You have bigger issues at hand than dealing with these eight people. I’ll keep them behind while the army goes ashore. Once the battle is over, we can sort this out.”
The Commander looks like he wants to argue, but short of challenging the captain’s authori
ty, a move that could cause the armada to turn around and head back to Chelmingford, soldiers still onboard, there’s nothing he can do.
“Don’t let them leave,” he snaps at the captain. “Especially this one.” He points at me. “Soon, I will be the new leader of Rowansmark. If I return and find them gone, the consequences will be severe.”
The captain nods solemnly. “Of course.” Then he claps his hands and yells, “Lower the boats!”
In moments all fifteen ships are lowering rowboats filled with soldiers and sending them to the shore. I stay at the rail to make sure the Commander and every last officer in his army is off the boat, and then I hurry to the engine room and retrieve the staff.
I return to the group in time to see Frankie and Connor finish packing up the travel bags. Captain Burkes waves me over to him.
“You know the plan?” I ask, to be sure, one last time, that I have every contingency in place.
He nods. “If I see a smoke signal from that direction”—he points to an area in the Wasteland just north of Rowansmark—“I open every floodgate on the dam and let the water into the city.”
“That’s right.” I tie the staff to my travel pack and pull out the tracking device I built months ago to use in case I ever needed to find Rachel. It worked well for me once. I’m praying it will work again. She’s somewhere inside Rowansmark if she’s still alive—I refuse to accept the alternative—and I’m going to find her.
“You be absolutely sure before you send that smoke signal,” the captain says. “I can’t see the city from up here, so I won’t know what’s going on. I don’t want to flood a city that hasn’t been evacuated, you understand me?”
“I understand.” I shake his hand, and then my people climb into a rowboat and head for shore. Jodi smiles at Connor as he discusses how much the forests of the southern Wasteland remind him of a poem he loves. Nola and Smithson both look worn and tired, but they put their heads together and talk quietly. Adam and Willow look at each other like they’d be kissing if they didn’t have an audience.
“How are we getting into the city?” Frankie asks.
“I don’t know.” I look down at the tracking device, but it’s dark. Rachel isn’t near the river. “We can’t walk in the front gate. We’ll have to find another way in.”
The army has disappeared into the Wasteland. I imagine the Commander will set up camp north of Rowansmark so he can survey the city and assess the military threat that waits for him. And stare at the device he so desperately longs to use again. He can’t keep an army of that size secret for long. Rowansmark must be sending out trackers to check the city’s perimeter. I estimate we have no more than two days before the Commander attacks.
I couldn’t care less. I just want to find Rachel. I need to know that she’s alive. Once I’ve found her, once I know that I’m not too late, I can focus on helping to bring down Rowansmark and then annihilating the Commander once and for all.
The rowboat bumps gently against the shoreline, and Frankie hops out to haul the boat onto the sand and tie it to a tree. I follow him, and then reach my hand back to help the others get out of the boat. Willow rolls her eyes and leaps lightly onto the shore, as does Adam. Smithson takes my hand briefly, and then turns to help Nola himself.
That leaves Connor and Jodi and the job I’ve asked them to do. There’s no way I’m bringing Connor on a surreptitious trip inside Rowansmark with the intent to stage a jailbreak and then kill the city’s leader. Clarissa stuck her neck out for me enough by sending troops. She doesn’t need me to risk her son’s life. Plus, Connor has exactly the skill set I need in the person who will take the watch and send a smoke signal to Captain Burkes—he’s calm under pressure and he thinks fast on his feet, just like Jodi.
I grab his hand and help him from the boat and then clap a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you came with us.”
He smiles. “As am I.” He reaches for Jodi, and she hops out.
“You know what to watch for?” I ask.
“When the clock tower in the center square burns, we send the signal,” Connor says.
“We’ll need to find a tree high enough to see over the wall.” Jodi sounds cheered by the prospect. Connor goes pale, but smiles gamely.
“Sounds lovely.”
Jodi laughs. “You don’t mean that, but don’t worry. I won’t let you fall. We’ll find a tree with a nice stable cradle big enough for the two of us, and then we’ll just sit up there together until we see the signal.”
“Sounds lovely.” Connor’s voice is full of enthusiasm this time, and Jodi smiles shyly.
I tell them to be safe, and then I join the others in a trek toward Rowansmark, the tracking device gripped tightly in my hand.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF–NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
RACHEL
The sewage pipe that runs beneath Rowansmark is wide enough for a wagon and twice as tall. By the time I climb out of it and into the swampland south of Rowansmark, the sun is well on its way toward the western horizon, my boots and the hem of Ian’s cloak are covered in sewage, and the energy from the little bit of food Marcus gave me for breakfast has long since worn off. I ease out of the pipe and fall a few feet into the thick, murky swamp below. My feet instantly sink into the muddy ground, and I have to hoist the cloak and wade through water that reaches my thighs.
The entire place smells like raw sewage, moldering trees, and dank, stagnant water. Taking Ian’s advice about moving east quickly so that I don’t wander into any alligator-infested areas, I push through the molasses-thick swamp water until I reach a lip of dry land covered in fine, gritty dirt that is anchored by patches of wild grass.
I can’t see the shadow of Rowansmark’s wall to the north, but I know it’s there. And somewhere north of that, Logan is coming. I don’t believe the report that Logan went north. I know him. He’d move heaven and earth to find me. I don’t know how long it took him to get around the Commander’s army. I don’t know if he took a boat or had to travel by land, but he’s coming for me.
I can’t afford to assume that it will take him much longer to get here. Knowing his mind, and all of his interminable worst case scenarios, I have to assume that somehow Logan will find a way to arrive in Rowansmark before anyone expects him to.
Which means I have to move.
I don’t waste time wiping the sludge off my clothing. My boots and cloak will be easier to clean once they’re dry. My pants . . . I’ll figure out how to clean those later.
I slip into the dense greenery of the Wasteland and move as quickly as my injured back will allow. My stomach rumbles in protest, but I don’t stop to look for food. Not yet. I want to be north of Rowansmark by nightfall.
Lacy strips of Spanish moss drip from gnarled oak branches while clusters of fetterbush swipe at my cloak as I walk. Insects sing in the treetops, and the soft soil swallows the sound of my footsteps.
I am utterly alone for the first time since I tried to escape over Baalboden’s Wall and got caught by the Commander. Unease skates down my spine in prickles of ice, and I slowly crouch, gritting my teeth against the pain that stabs through my back, and remove the dagger from its sheath.
Not that I’m in any shape to use it, but it’s better than walking through the Wasteland completely defenseless. There are predators in this forest. Coyotes. Wildcats. Highwaymen. I have to be prepared.
The dagger doesn’t help me feel any better. As I walk forward on legs shaky with hunger and pain, the sensation of being one tiny speck in a vast, unknowable land presses down on me with relentless force. The back of my neck itches as if trying to warn me that I’m being followed. I slip behind a thick tree trunk, close my eyes, and listen.
A flock of birds chirp incessantly to my right, and the leaves above me sift and sigh in the gentle late afternoon breeze. A branch creaks, reminding me of the old floorbo
ards in Oliver’s kitchen.
There’s nothing to cause me alarm. Nothing to explain the unsettled feeling that coils through me until I want to curl up on the ground, wrap my arms across my chest, and hold myself silent and still until somehow I feel less alone.
Maybe that’s what this is. Maybe I’ve spent so much time focused on what I have to say or do or be to those around me, that when I finally have a chance to be alone with myself, I don’t know how to do it. With no immediate threats, no conversations, and no task other than to put one foot ahead of the other, I’m stripped of everything I’ve used to distract myself from the grief and longing that live inside of me.
I miss my dad. I miss Oliver, too.
An ache throbs at the back of my throat, and I swallow hard as I make myself keep walking. Keep moving, because even if there’s nothing to keep the ghosts that haunt me at bay, I still have a job to finish. I have a boy to save.
Thinking about Logan eases the ache in my throat and settles some of the unease that lurks within me. I think of his ink-stained fingers and how safe I feel when he wraps his hand around mine, pressing our palms together. I think of the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs. The way he watches others so carefully, as if he thinks that with enough data, he can predict who will hurt him and who will love him instead.
I wonder if he predicted the way my heart thuds against my chest when I think of his body leaning against mine, his breath tangled in my hair, his heat soaking into me like a blanket I wear beneath my skin. I wonder if all the years he spent observing me at Oliver’s, and later at my own house, prepared him for the way he lives in a space inside of me that feels like it was always meant to be his.
I hope he knows that I would push myself to my limits to find him because he matters more to me than making Ian pay for his crimes, or taking James Rowan out of power, or even killing the Commander. The last time I spoke to Logan, we were rushing to get out of Lankenshire’s hospital so we could find Ian. I didn’t have a chance to tell him why I’d become so distant after Sylph’s death, and that I was fighting to break through my silence and feel again. I couldn’t show him that even though I’m far from better, I’ve found the courage to face what hurts me so that I can overcome it.
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