Eliana grabbed the biggest shard of glass she could find, leapt to her feet, and lunged for Lord Morbrae. He saw her too late, dodged clumsily. She wondered if the gray clouding his eyes was confusing his sight, then drew the shard’s sharp edge across his throat. Blood gushed hot over her hand and onto her clothes. Lord Morbrae made a terrible choking sound, then fell hard to his knees before collapsing.
The remaining adatrox rushed at Eliana. She grabbed a carving knife from the table and met him beside Lord Morbrae’s corpse, kneed him in the groin, then plunged the knife into his belly. She ran past him, flew out into the hallway, and ran right into the muzzle of Simon’s revolver.
He wore the Wolf’s metal mask, but even with his features hidden, she could feel his fury in the air like the charge of lightning.
Another bombardier exploded, this one closer. Simon grabbed her by the arms as something in the ceiling gave way with a creaking groan, pulled her tight against his chest and shielded her between his body and the wall. One of the rafters fell, bringing down stone.
“This way,” he muttered, shaking dust from his hood.
She pulled against his grip. “Where’s Remy?”
“With Navi. And so help me, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here if necessary.”
“Why not kill me?” She wiped grit from her eyes. “I’m a traitor, aren’t I? I thought you’d blow the place to the skies—and me with it.”
He laughed bitterly. “If only it were that easy.”
Shouts and gunfire sounded from beyond the outpost’s walls, and Remy, Eliana assumed, was somewhere in the thick of it. If she didn’t cooperate, she might never find him. She shot Simon a glare and swallowed her anger before following him down the hallway.
From behind them came a distant scream, followed by another.
Eliana whirled. Inhaling, she tasted smoke.
The prison.
She ran for it, but only made it a few paces before Simon grabbed her arm.
“Unhand me,” she growled.
He did, roughly. “Then don’t run away again.”
“There are people back there,” she said. “Refugees. Prisoners. Children. We have to free them.”
“We can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because my soldiers have set bombardier charges around the building. When the fire reaches them, they’ll detonate. In less than five minutes, this building will no longer be standing.”
Eliana felt as though the floor had dropped out from under her. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, I’m going.” She started again for the prison, and this time, when Simon stopped her, she elbowed him in the gut and stomped on his foot, but he didn’t release her.
“Let me go!” She struggled, twisting violently. “What do you care if I die trying to save them?”
“As touched as I am by your sudden heroic streak,” Simon bit out, “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now, move.”
Another bombardier detonated, the closest one yet. A chunk of plaster fell from the ceiling and hit Eliana’s head. Pain spiked down her skull; she swayed, tried to move forward, stumbled.
With a curse, Simon caught her, thrust his gun into her hands, and scooped her easily into his arms.
“If someone comes at us,” he ordered, “shoot them.”
He ran, keeping his head tucked over hers. Clouds of dust, smoke, and grit fogged their way. Eliana coughed against Simon’s chest, considered shooting him in the gut right then and there.
But then two adatrox ran out of the shadows. Eliana turned in Simon’s arms and fired five times. She was a bad shot even without having been hit in the head, but luck helped at least two of her bullets hit true. The adatrox jerked and fell.
They turned a corner and another, passed a room crackling with flames and another where a glassy-eyed adatrox lay on the threshold, his arm outstretched. Papers marked with muddy boot prints littered the floor.
Then, a shot from behind them—a near-hit. Eliana looked past Simon’s shoulder, and her stomach lurched with fear.
Lord Morbrae.
He was alive.
He chased them down the corridor, rifle in hand, and though his face, neck, and jacket gleamed with blood, Eliana could see no wound on his throat.
Impossible.
She pointed the revolver past Simon and fired, but nothing happened.
“You used all the goddamned bullets.” Simon kicked open a door in their path three times before it gave. Once through, he kicked it back shut. Lord Morbrae fired again; the door’s wood splintered at Simon’s heels.