Chapter 34
There was nothing left for me here, or anywhere. All I could think to do now was run.
Crake had upended the Cage’s plans. The rebels surely wouldn’t be coming here now, and I’d never find out what had happened to Zennia. My only hope of that lay with Emment, but he was gone, holed up somewhere, soon to be facing down Crake.
I thought again of the tower ruins, Rhianne’s little basement.
If I hid out there until the Waking Tide retreated, ran ahead of the Morning Tide, all the way to the mainland…
The prospect both tempted and depressed me in equal measure.
Miserably I pictured handing myself over to Arbenhaw, and the placement that no doubt awaited me after: something brutal, backbreaking… short-lived.
But I realized grimly, as I stumbled from the hall, that my treacherous feet were heading that way: taking me out past Miss Haney’s office to the rear servants’ exit, which led to the cove path…
Smack.
I’d been so caught up in my brooding, I’d walked straight into a tall, solid figure. With twin grunts, we staggered back. I looked up. And froze.
“You.” Nemaine’s voice was tinged with disappointment. “Are you still here? Please tell me you subdued that Sparkmouth.”
I didn’t reply, merely backed away slowly.
She surveyed me critically, then cocked a pale eyebrow. “Ah. So you’ve figured it all out at last?”
No sign of her crossbow. Maybe she’d left it with whoever was now guarding Tigo and the others. But as she came toward me, matching my pace, a fierce-looking flame floated behind her down the hall.
“That Lord Cormorant lied?” I said, my face heating. “That he’s nothing to do with the Cage at all? Yes, he made that quite clear just now.”
I noticed her flame fading, flickering weakly. My pouch of laconite: It was doing its job.
Nemaine’s face twisted into a crooked smirk.
“The Cage. You and your little cuckoo friends. You think you’ll make any real difference in this Queendom?
” She shook her head. “You and I, working for the Hundred—we have it good. The best job an Orha can ask for. Or at least you did, until you fell in with those murderers. You should have been grateful for where you were. Proud. Not scheming against the people who see and appreciate your power.”
“You think they appreciate us?” I said, thinking of Rexim. Of Vercha and Emment. All those Floodmouths up on the cliffs. Of what Zennia had seen before she’d come to Arbenhaw. Of the fights at the Veil. Of Uirbrig Crake. “The Hundred don’t appreciate us. We’re objects to them.”
I was breathing heavily, my hands curled into fists. “You know what they think? That if we got even a sniff of power, we’d murder them all and seek to rule the world. Like they claim we tried to do before the Great Revolt.”
Out of Nemaine’s eyeline, her flame was guttering. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time arguing with you. Now. Are you going to stay here and cause trouble, or run away and hide like a good little mouse?”
Mouse.
My cheeks flared. It was what my classmates had called me.
I recalled the way my feet had been heading, the plan to flee that had wormed its way into my mind. I swallowed, my limbs as tense as spinet wire. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—run from this now.
When I didn’t respond, Nemaine stepped toward me, lips parting. She would try to get rid of me. Burn me alive. But her flame had winked out; nothing happened when she called to it.
“Not as stupid as I took you for,” she murmured, eyes raking over me. She knew I had laconite on me somewhere.
I backed away steadily, remembering my hidden knife. In the absence of her power, she advanced on me bodily. She was a full head taller than me, far broader at the shoulder. And the way she moved…she’d had training, I could tell.
I darted backward, moving my hand toward my knife, but as well as being strong, she was frighteningly fast. She launched herself forward, grabbing me by the shoulder. Grunting, I tried to twist from her grip, but her arm, leather clad and solid as steel, slipped around my neck and held me fast.
She had no weapon—she’d been relying on that flame—but I didn’t think she’d have a problem removing me if she chose to.
Our standoff had pushed us toward Miss Haney’s office, and my stomach flopped as I glimpsed the dark hump of Debry’s body on the floor.
I could see no sign of Tigo and Mawre. Had Nemaine disposed of them, just as she was about to dispose of me?
The thought made my pulse sound louder in my ears, made my palms go clammy. My fault. My fault.
I felt Nemaine’s hand dig around in my cloak. The knife wasn’t there—that was in an inner pocket—but the laconite was, and she tossed it away.
Then, in the near distance: ragged shouts, hoarse cheers. The gatehouse guards fending off Crake’s attack? Or, more likely, Crake’s forces celebrating breaking through.
The Sparkmouth paused, though she didn’t break her hold.
“They’re here,” she said, her voice low. Fervent. And she began to drag me to the nearest window.