Chapter 26 #2
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “These past couple weeks have been . . .” Another fake tear, another sniffle. “I’ve been so scared. I was kidnapped by pirates and locked in a cell and attacked by an automaton and . . . I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
She made a show of reaching out to Victor as if begging him to hold her. His tense shoulders dropped, and she was relieved he wasn’t too upset to reject her. Yet.
Victor folded her into his arms, and Amaya rested her head on his chest.
“What the hell, Amaya?” Sebastian snarled, struggling against the fleetmen dragging him away. “Was this your plan all along?”
The words stung, but Amaya stayed pressed against Victor anyway, slowly scrunching up her skirt in one hand.
“Pirate scum,” Victor muttered under his breath. He tightened his embrace. “You’re safe now. No one is going to hurt y—agh!”
Eagle Eye froze a moment in time long enough for Amaya to take her aim.
A bullet fired from her gun, which she’d ripped out of the holster in a split second while Victor held her, and passed through the shined leather of his boot.
He jerked back in pain, and Amaya took the opportunity to duck under his arm and bolt around the far side of the house toward the servants’ entrance.
“That bitch shot me! Amaya, get back here!”
Yes, because everyone who hears the words “get back here” returns peacefully, Amaya thought wryly. Her fingers tingled from what she’d done, her emotions wildly alternating between empowerment and profound disgust. Her pistol was a cold and deadly weight in her hand.
She’d just shot a man. And not just any man—the man she was expected to marry. Training with Lockwood had desensitized her to the sound, but the feeling lingered, nagging her for acknowledgement she refused to offer.
She’d have plenty of time for remorse later; now, she needed to find a safe place to call Will.
A handful of Victor’s men pursued her, but she knew the house better than they did.
The library might be Starcrest Peak’s best-kept secret, but childhood games of hide-and-seek with Camden meant Amaya knew every inch of the place.
There was a cedar chest in the basement where her mother used to store her finest party dresses.
Camden had never found her there, and Victor wouldn’t either. At least, not quickly.
Amaya dashed inside the servants’ entrance, whipped around a corner, and slid down a curved banister to the heart of the house, where, after confirming no one was watching, she tucked inside a small door leading to the lowest level.
She expertly navigated a labyrinth of rooms until she came upon the chest, hidden away in a forgotten storage room, and squeezed herself inside.
It had been easier when she was little, but she still managed to shut the lid, nesting herself among her mother’s vintage silks and beaded gowns. There was something comforting about it, as if she was wrapping her arms around Amaya even now.
Heavy boots pounded overhead, some of them down the basement stairs.
“Where is she!?” Victor roared from above.
“We can’t find her, Lieutenant.”
“Keep looking. She’s just a girl; she can’t have gone far.”
Just a girl. If Victor only knew the things she’d been through since she’d last seen him, the things she’d done . . . that shot was just the beginning. She wasn’t “just a girl” anymore.
A curved edge dug into Amaya’s hip: Wayfinder. If she was going to use it, now was the time. Once the footsteps thudded back upstairs, she slid the pistol back into her holster and dug through her pocket to free the compass.
She couldn’t see a thing inside the chest, but she felt around until she located the button to open the compass. She pressed on the glass and Wayfinder hummed as it activated, a flash of gold shimmering across the surface.
Maker, she hoped Will saw it. He had to. And now, she had to get out. It was only a matter of time until they found her here.
Amaya crept out of the chest, her footsteps silent. After checking around every corner to make sure the coast was clear, she tip-toed upstairs to the exit, where she caught sight of Sebastian and Edmund crammed into the back of a vehicle.
It took everything in her to not run after them, but that wouldn’t be the best way to help.
Sneaking out the back door instead, she climbed back over the terrace rail and created distance between herself and the house, hugging the edge of the cliff and ducking behind shrubs and trees. Lake Anna shimmered below.
Amaya glanced back at the house, knowing they’d find her if she took too long. If Victor or one of his men caught her . . . it was over. No more adventure, no more airships and sky cities. No more reading lessons with Mouse or shooting lessons with Lockwood.
No more refusing to acknowledge she felt anything for William Lexington, a pirate who’d put more faith in her than anyone here ever had.
A man whose voice, touch, and gaze made her long for something she couldn’t have.
She’d be shoved back in a cage if she let them take her now. And this time, they’d clip her wings to ensure she never escaped again.
And Graven would come.
No. Amaya would go home eventually—she wanted to go home—but not today. Not until she finished this.
Her gaze traveled to the vast expanse of the lake.
It was a stupid idea, as Grace Hargreeves had reminded her and Camden a hundred times. Stupid and dangerous and . . .
She looked back and saw the shadowed outlines of patrolling fleetmen. What choice did she have?
Mind made up, Amaya snuck along the ledge until she reached the old cliff-diving spot. She didn’t normally make this jump in a dress, but it would have to do.
After kicking her shoes off, she scanned the trees behind her to make sure no one else lurked in the vicinity and stood. A soft breeze rustled her hair and caressed her skin. It seemed to carry Camden’s voice with it.
“You can do it!” he used to shout from below. “Don’t think, just jump!”
Just jump.
Amaya sucked in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leapt off the cliff, free-falling into the frigid depths of Lake Anna.