Chapter 39
Steel fragments screamed through the air as the water tower burst. A wave surged across the barracks, sweeping the eastern corner of the Barrens like a tidal tide.
We didn’t wait for the chaos to take hold—Shayde and I bolted across the open ground.
The torrent was seconds from swallowing us, but I forced the current to split around our legs, parting just enough to clear a path to the grate. Shouts and panicked screams echoed behind us as elementals struggled against the flood.
Shayde shot ahead and didn’t waste a second prying the sewer grate open. He jumped in first—an action I’d normally call rude, but considering he’d just dove into a sewer, I let it slide.
He shouted for me to follow, and for some reason, I didn’t hesitate.
My stomach lurched as I dropped through the opening, but Shayde caught me by the waist before my feet hit the ground. I immediately channeled the current, redirecting the water to surge past the grate overhead—using its force to slam the cover shut behind us.
In the dim shadows, I caught a glimpse of his face. His gaze was fixed on the swirling magic above and, for a moment… he almost looked awestruck. Hard to tell in the dark.
I started to move past him—then stopped. I was standing on the only dry-ish patch of sewer floor. The rest was a murky, slow-moving stream of… well, water.
Shayde, fortunately, was ankle-deep in it. “Can’t you—y’know—channel it out of your way?” he asked.
I rubbed my jaw. “Not if it’s… waste. It doesn’t work like that.”
He glanced both ways down the sewer, sighed, then reached behind him to unsheathe the sword from his back, gripping the pommel in one hand.
“Hop on.”
I blinked. “How do I know you’re not just going to throw me into the—water?”
He wiggled his fingers in a silent let’s-go motion. “You don’t.”
I muttered a prayer to the elements to put me anywhere else but here, then grabbed his shoulders and swung onto his back.
My legs locked around his waist; his free hand slid beneath my thigh; my chest flared with awareness as I wrapped my arms around his neck.
Then he started through the sewer, ankle-deep in water, carrying me on his back.
“I don’t need to see your face to know how much you hate me,” his voice rumbled through his shoulders. “I can feel your heartbeat slamming against my back.”
My skin flared hot. I scrambled for something—anything—snarky to throw at him.
All I managed was, “Shut up.”
The smell threatened to make me gag, so I buried my nose in the collar of his cloak. Instantly, the calming scent of citrus and bergamot soothed me. I chose to ignore the fact that I had my face pressed into the warmth of Shayde Wylder.
We walked in silence for about a mile—me on his back, his boots sloshing loud enough to echo off the tunnel walls—until we reached another sewer grate above us. We paused, listening for Tyrians. Only eerie, breathless silence answered. Snow drifted through the grate, melting in our hair.
I raised my arm and channeled a slick, flexible vine to coil around the bars. With a tug, I cracked it open just enough for us to squeeze through.
“Stand on my shoulders and lift yourself up,” Shayde instructed.
Normally, I would’ve protested being told what to do—especially by him. But I was more than ready to be anywhere else. I set my hands on the grate, let him steady me until I balanced on his shoulders, caught the iron edge, and he boosted my calves so I could swing a leg over into the slush above.
I rolled away from the opening and lay there, breath clouding in the frigid air as I took in enemy territory for the first time.
We’d emerged into the middle of a four-way path, hoofprints marking recent travel.
A wooden post nearby pointed in all directions.
Only one sconce burned, casting a soft flicker over the crossroads.
A whistle from below snapped me out of it.
I peered over the grate. Shayde stood with his hands on his hips, sword strapped across his back. His expression was flat, unimpressed. “Any day now, Fitzroy.”
I pressed a finger to my lips and pouted. “You know, I could leave you down there. A sewer’s the perfect place for a pet snake to thrive.”
No smirk. No opening for banter. Just that flat, steady look.
I rolled my eyes and summoned a thick vine, dropping it through the grate. He climbed quickly while I braced the anchor. Moments later, we stood together in the snowy wilds of Tyria.
Back-to-back, we surveyed the crossroads. Neither of us spoke. Each path vanished into dense forest; no lights or sounds hinted at civilization. My ears and nose stung from the cold.
“Our best bet for shelter is a cavern in the mountains,” I said, nodding toward the jagged peaks behind him.
Shayde’s jaw tensed as he studied the terrain. “Agreed.”
Without another word, we began our trek—wading through four inches of snow and straight into enemy territory.