6. Lina
Lina
W hen the second masked man comes into view, I rip Astella from the path and into the brush.
A crow caws, taking flight and disrupting the branches, followed by several others.
I can only hope the rustling of leaves and echoing of caws covers our sound as we slip into wild brush and cower behind a tree just a foot from the road.
My breaths come in fast and ragged as I cling to Astella. She is pressed up against my chest between my arms.
“Shut up!” a voice growls. Close, he’s so close.
I hold my breath.
Nearly a minute passes before a little of the tension in my chest eases. I stop expecting a killing blow any moment and take better stock of our hiding place.
It’s not very good, but so far, they don’t know we’re here.
“You think it was them?” one of the warriors says.
There’s a pause and a sniff, but I don’t dare open my eyes to see what’s happening.
“I don’t hear it anymore.”
More silence. My heart is hammering. Is it loud enough for them to hear it?
Thudding steps come closer. I’m trembling and squeezing Astella tight against me. The thud of the boots grows and grows until they’re right in front of us.
I’m holding my breath now, silently praying desperately to any god who might hear that they won’t see us.
And the boots continue past.
My eyes fly open. The path in front of me is clear. Three cloaked men are walking away from where we sit, crouched behind a tree. I blink three times, certain it must be some kind of trick.
But only a moment later, they’re gone.
“They’ll come back,” Astella whispers. “They’ll see our prints, they’re?—”
This time, the panic doesn’t come.
My chest is tight. My soul is tired and sad. But also, among the fear is a calm I didn’t suspect.
“Okay,” I tell her.
“Lina? Did you hear what I said?”
“Yes,” I say quietly. Too quiet. “I understand what you’re saying.”
Somehow, standing in the face of doom is easier than the wondering. I’m scared of the pain, scared of all my nightmares coming to life. But in the midst of death, I have one thing remaining.
One act of rebellion left.
“You’ve saved me over and over,” I tell her. She and I have been allies, friends, sisters, for a year. Ever since I found her hiding in the rubble of her destroyed convoy. Her family wiped out in moments. “Now, it’s my turn.”
First, her brow furrows, but then what I’m saying hits her. “No,” she whispers. “No, we can’t split up.”
“Yes.”
“Lina, no.” I can hear the hurt in her voice. “You can’t leave me. You can’t leave me alone!”
I quickly close the gap between us and grip her forearms tightly.
I can handle it all— pain and death and whatever horrors they throw at me—as long as I know it’s for a reason.
“You’re my reason, Astella. You’re why I continue on,” I whisper so quietly.
It’s a risk to even say this much, but she has to understand.
I was supposed to be taken yesterday, but she saved me. It’s not fair that she would be taken too just because she saved me for one night. I’m not going to let that happen.
“Go into the forest. Find a place to sleep for the night. I’ll—I’ll make sure they don’t find you.”
Tears well in her eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”
For one second, I let that misery envelop me. She is still so young and has been through so much.
I look into her eyes. The dark spots under them. The scrape along her jaw. The bruise forming on her cheek. The dirt and sand clinging to her skin.
Her face crumples into despair like I’ve never seen. One single sob escapes her, but she fights it with gritted teeth. She is too young to be this strong.
I wasn’t able to fight for Lucca the way I wished. I wasn’t able to tell him how much I cared. But I can for Astella.
“I love you, Astella. Truly, more than I can explain. You saved me.”
“You saved me too.” She sniffs. “We’re supposed to be together.”
I hate it. I hate that she must face the shadows alone. Just like I know she hates that I must face the Drak’yn cult alone. But you can better believe that if my choice is between both of us being taken or just me, I’ll make sure she stays free.
I’ll fight for her, even harder than I’d fight for myself.
Through tears and trembling fingers, she reaches into her skirt pocket and forces something into my palm. “Remember me.”
Her eyes bore into mine so intently I don’t dare examine the gift. It is cool and circular, about the size of my palm. A coin?
“I believe my vision. You and me, safe in the mountains. I have to believe it. It has to be real.” Tears rim her eyes.
I grip her hands tightly in mine, trying not to cry. Trying to be the strong one this time. “I’ll find you. I swear it.”
I don’t know if it’s a lie. But I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I can make it back to her.