16. Reina

Chapter sixteen

Reina

L ike a lid being removed from a boiling pot, the heat evaporates from the room as soon as Jasper leaves. The damn bastard kissed me again. I suppose I should be more ashamed of how he lavished my…

Never mind.

The important thing is that he forgot to ward the window, so now I just have to get myself free from this bed.

I look at the pistol he left me. Could I shoot through the chain? Probably not. The wood, though…But it would make such a noise that surely the bartender would come investigate. I need to do this quietly enough not to rouse suspicions.

A flash of lightning rips open the sky and rain patters against the window. The boom of thunder punches down into my soul and threatens to unmake my mind. I can't let it turn me into a simpering child like the other night. The thunder is just the cover I need. I have to be ready next time.

I set the pistol on the desk and sit on the bed. With my feet pressed into the post of the headboard, I grab the chain of my binds in both hands. The wind whistles past the thin glass and I watch the rain tilt sideways.

Another flash and I pull my legs back, all the way to my chest. When the thunder hits, I kick the headboard post hard and pull on the manacle at the same time. The bed, while simple, is of a sturdy construction and barely budges from my effort.

I line up for another shot and wait.

Hit after hit, the post begins to loosen. My hands ache and my legs are screaming. I want to give up, but I know this might be my only chance.

Lightning.

Kick.

Lightning.

Kick.

Something in the post snaps and the headboard rail pulls out from it. The other manacle slides off the end and I fall back on the bed, panting in a pool of sweat. I allow myself one minute of rest to catch my breath, and then I move.

I pull the sheet off the bed and wrap it tightly over one shoulder and under the other arm, then tie it off. I pull the shade off the lamp and grab the magus crystal, gripping it tight. I can't push any of my magic into it with the enchanted copper cuffs on, but when I am free, I'll need this to see in the dark tunnels.

I tuck it into my small chest pocket, then grab the pistol off the desk. I pull the trigger stopper so that I can't accidentally shoot myself, then tuck it into the sheet.

The room is otherwise barren, apart from a chamber pot, so I turn to the window. There's no way to open it—it's just a solid panes of glass held in by wooden supports.

Fuck.

I guess it's time to make a racket.

The ground isn't too far off below. The drop might sting a bit, but I won't be so badly injured I can't run. Unless I fall on the shattered glass.

I look down at my bare feet.

"Fucking fuck."

Doubt unspools through my chest and wraps around my heart. I turn away from the window and stare at the protections around the door.

Jasper hasn't hurt me, and he definitely isn't selling me for greed. He seems like a decent person, honestly, and if I stay with him a little longer, maybe a better escape route will present itself.

Or maybe I'll never escape him, and he'll sell me off to some fuckwit who will rape me for the rest of my days.

Lightning flashes and I whirl around, smashing the other end of the manacle through the window. The glass shatters spectacularly, resulting in a shout downstairs. I use the chain to clean up the bottom of the window pane, removing the sharp edges, and then steel myself.

"Stupid. This is so stupid," I mutter as I look over the edge.

I stick one leg through the window and it's instantly drenched. I shift my weight and grab onto the ledge, letting my other leg slide out beside my arm. Rain slaps against the side of my face and I look down. Somehow, it's a lot farther now than when I was in the room. I try to pull myself up but only get a few inches before my arms shake and refuse to haul up any more of my weight.

There's a heavy bang at the door, and without another thought, I let go. I suck in a gasp as weightlessness takes me, then grunt as my feet—quickly followed by my ass—hit the cobblestone alley.

I stand and unwrap the sheet, then pull it over my head like a cloak. I hold the sheet together with one hand and grip the pistol in the other as I take off down the narrow passage. There are organized heaps of trash bleeding brown mucky water into the gutter all around me, and the smell is on the level of the pirate hold, but I keep my empty stomach in check.

It's harder to navigate from behind the buildings, but I find my way to the back of the blacksmith. There's a window on the top half of the back door, and I peer through it.

Jasper is standing by the front door with his arms crossed, looking out into the storm. There's a man at the forge who's heating the billows up to a high glow. The warmth coming from under the crack of the door fights off the chill of the rain, but I shiver anyway.

So close to freedom. I just have to wait for Jasper to leave.

Or I could kill him.

My thumb skates over the trigger lock and my fingers drum on the grip of his pistol, but shame is the only thing speaking back to me from the idea. He says he can track me, and will track me, to the ends of Gaien. Killing him may be my only real means of escape. But if I kill him here, where he's told everyone that I'm something I'm not, they might just execute me.

Or worse.

And I don't want to kill him. For all he's done to me, Jasper's also done a lot for me. He might be a decent man. I can't kill a decent man.

I grip the pistol tighter and duck out of sight. The rain sheds off the roof of the blacksmith in great sheets, blocking the rest of the village from my view. I steal a look in the window every few minutes, waiting for him to leave.

"Aye! Que estas haciendo!" someone shouts behind me.

I start and look toward the voice. A man with a loaded dolly and a wide umbrella covering it all is stopped twenty feet away in the middle of the alley.

"Eres la ladrona! Thief!"

Great.

I run from the blacksmith building, clutching my pilfered sheet and pistol with all my might. The man continues to make a racket and I pray to the gods that the blacksmith's hammering and the roar of the forge is loud enough to drown out his voice. There must be somewhere else in town I can get the tools to undo these binds.

And I bet the miners would have them.

I don't want to go up there without my magic, but it's all that's left for me. Maybe they won't kill a terrified princess on the run—or maybe I'll meet my death.

Either way, I'm getting out of here.

My bare feet slip on the wet cobblestones as I round the first alley and I fall into the street. Pain spears through my shoulder when I hit the ground, and I cry out. Passersby with wide umbrellas gasp and ask kind words in kind voices, until shouts of thief come from the alley behind me.

My makeshift cloak parts just enough for someone to see the pistol clutched in my hand. They scream, "Un arma!" and suddenly there are hands on me. I roll and kick, screaming in both pain and desperation.

I must get away from him.

I must get back to the rebellion.

One of my kicks lands solidly and the man trying to detain me grunts and falls to the ground. I scramble back to my feet and run for the road that leads into the mountain. The shouting continues behind me, and whistles are blown as I charge away from the merchant village and into the one above. There are signs posted in every common language telling me to turn back, that the inhabitants of the city will kill any trespasser.

Gods, what am I thinking?

Massive bins line the pathway where the miners dump their hauls, and past that, the path becomes a treacherous, slippery uphill climb. I look back at the city below. Though it's hard to see through the pounding rain, I know Jasper is already hunting for me, along with the rest of the town.

I could go back. I could wait for another opportunity rather than risk near certain death at the hands of monstrous cave-dwellers.

I turn and look up the hill toward potential salvation. The black rock archways seem to stare back at me, questioning my dedication. How far am I willing to go to get back to the rebellion? How desperate am I to end the evil queen who has been a blight to my family and my people? I must be able to persuade the mountain dwellers to help me instead of kill me. I can offer them an alliance, better trade with Fynren, something .

An arm bands around my waist and I open my mouth to scream, but another clamps over my face. I bite down, my teeth sinking into something harder than flesh. Leather gloves.

"Eres mio," the cold, amused voice says against the side of my head.

I kick out my feet and push against the rocks, but the man uses my momentum to turn us back toward the village. There are three other figures looming on the pathway down, each panting heavily like they ran to catch up to me. The rain is stinging my eyes, making it hard to see, but I know none of them are Jasper.

"Cuanto crees que vale?" One of them laughs, and I recognize his voice. Red Beard, the man who helped row us in to town.

They can't mean to do anything good with me. At best, they'll bring me back to my mother for a reward. At worst…I don't let my mind consider it. I focus on what I can do to avoid that fate.

My arms are pinned against my body, but I still have a hold on the pistol. I twist my wrist until the barrel of the gun is against my waist, pointing back at my captor. The safety lock is disengaged. I put my finger on the trigger and—

BANG!

The arms fall away from me, and I hit the ground. My ears are ringing, but I can hear the men screaming as they rush toward me. I hold up the pistol and take aim at the closest one. Red Beard stops, holding his hands up in surrender.

A third man dashes toward me on the right and I turn to aim at him, but I'm too slow. He knocks the weapon away with a heavy kick and my other hand slips on the stone. I hit the rocks face-first, and pain slices through my cheek.

He grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks me upright. I scream and claw at his hand, but he's wearing gloves, too. An open palm splashes against my cheek with a wet slap once, twice, and it has my eyes rolling in my head. He's shouting, but I'm too disoriented to make out any words.

I grab the other end of the manacle, fisting it hard, and then punch his groin. The man doubles over with a grunt and his hand on my hair goes slack. I fall forward, unable to catch myself. Something hits my already aching shoulder and I yelp as I fall to the side.

Rain splashes down onto my eyes, so I lash out blindly with my feet.

But then there's a cry of terror and a vicious snarl. I crawl backward and wipe my eyes, hunting for the pistol on the ground. A meaty chomp , then a hard snap, sounds behind me as I scramble toward the weapon. The fight isn't over. The other man screams a war cry and there's a heavy smack- ting, then a dog-like yipe.

The sharp stone cuts my hands as I crawl, leaving trails of red running down the side of the mountain that mingle with the blood of the man I shot. I grab the pistol and roll over my bad shoulder, uncaring of the pain. I hold up the weapon and take aim at a dark shadow on four legs. It's a massive black wolf with glowing opal eyes.

Jasper .

He lunges at the last man standing. The enemy puts a shovel up to block and Jasper's maw snaps down on the handle. He twists his huge canine head and tosses the man to the ground, then steps on his chest.

Jasper stares at me through the pounding rain as he applies more and more pressure to the man's chest. He wheezes out desperate pleas in Wolish, clawing at Jasper's thick paw, but Jasper pays him no heed. His eyes are swallowing me up, daring me to shoot, challenging me to even try it.

Jasper leans forward and the man's ribs snap. He steps over him, making his insides squelch out of his body. Blood streams from his open mouth, but he's not dead yet. I'm sure he wants to be.

The heavy pistol makes my arm tremble, but I keep my aim at the wolf's heart. He stalks closer, bringing the scent of iron with him. I can taste the blood on my tongue.

Jasper stops in front of me, twin curls of hot steam coming from his dark snout. I want to tell him to let me go, to end this before I end him, but his name is the only thing that comes out.

In a mass of violently chaotic black lines, the wolf shifts until he's once again the shape of a man. Those opal eyes never leave mine and I choke on the rain. My pistol hand trembles harder and I'm not sure I could even hit him with how wildly the barrel is swinging. He stops a foot away, then glances up to the mountain behind me.

"We need to get away from here," he says, then holds out his hand without looking down at me.

I look over my shoulder to see what's captivated his attention and am struck dumb. I don't understand what I'm seeing. The ground is alive. It's swallowing up the man I shot, and his blood is glowing against the rocks.

A deep groaning rumble comes from within the archway and Jasper growls, "Now, Rei."

The manacles clink as I lift my other arm and take his hand. He jerks me up and places himself between me and the mountain.

"Walk slowly. Do not look at their faces," he says, taking a step back and pushing me with him. I don't know if he means the faces of my attackers, or the faces of whatever is eating them. I close my eyes and tighten my grip on his hand and the pistol.

"Keep going, don't stop."

We take slow step after step. My cold feet barely feel the sting of the sharp rocks.

Then suddenly he turns and picks me up, cradling me in his arms. His body is warm, and I shiver in his grasp. The rain roars all around us and I can't stop myself from tucking into his chest.

"That was so stupid, Reina," he whispers against the crook of my neck and his hot breath makes me shudder.

"I'm sorry," I whisper back, though I don't know why. I'm not sorry. I'm angry. Aren't I? Shouldn't I be?

Why don't I feel anything?

Jasper carries me down the mountain path without another word. He just holds me close. Holds me like I'm precious. There are people waiting at the gate when we get to the town. Jasper says something in Wolish to them, and then takes me in.

I failed, once again.

I'm never going to get back to them.

I'm never going to know if Alyse is alive.

I'm never going to be free.