Bonds of Brass (The Bloodright Trilogy #1) - Emily Skrutskie Page 0,131
made the first—no, never mind. Details later. Rin?”
The smaller girl snaps to attention, grinning. “Yeah?”
“There must be something we can do for our dear friend Ettian, right? After all, he’s given us so much.”
Rin pretends to think, her brow furrowing comically. “But what could possibly be loud and distracting enough to turn every head on the tarmac?”
“If not Ollins, what about something of yours stashed under his bunk?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
CHAPTER 28
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, I’ve wedged myself into the undercarriage of a bus. My hearing’s coming back in parts, and I’m still frantically trying to beat out the embers of Rin’s homemade fireworks where they’ve singed my shirt and pants. The engine rattles my teeth, and I tuck my legs close against my chest, praying that the driver sees no need to check the luggage compartments before she takes off for the city.
Gal and Wen were counting on me. Now it’s my turn to count on them. They made it. They must have made it.
The rumble grows into a roar. The bus sways forward. I close my eyes and wait.
* * *
—
When the driver cuts the engines, I don’t hesitate. No time to listen to voices, to guess if I have an opening. I pull the release that pops the luggage hatch. Light streams into the narrow compartment as I tuck and roll out of it.
And Trost welcomes back its native son with open arms. I’m five years off these streets, and yet my bearings lock into place so quickly that I nearly trip over my feet, as if I’m unused to the length my legs have grown in the time since then. Confused shouts rise around me, but I don’t have room to process any of the words they’re yelling. The only thing I can hold concretely in my head is the layout of the city and my place in it, the grid that had two years to etch itself into my bones.
There. I lunge forward, all but diving headfirst into an alley ahead. Stone and brick snatch at my clothes—I wasn’t nearly this big the last time I slipped between these walls. Behind me, the shouts fade. The soldiers think I’m a deserter, and with an evacuation to manage, they don’t have time to deal with it. I throw myself around the next corner, slam back against the wall, and heave a deep sigh of relief.
The shriek of starship engines takes that relief by the throat and pins it, sending my fingers scrabbling into the brick for a handhold as a shadow passes over me. My memories tangle with my present as all around me I sense the utter wrongness of a city trying to flee. It’s not the same, I tell myself, swallowing back the bitter wash of nausea creeping up my throat. The armada approaching Trost is a sympathetic one. Archon is committed to serving its citizens, not dominating them like Umber. There will be no bombs falling upon the fleet’s arrival—or, at least that’s what I’m telling myself, knowing all too well how the past seven years have changed my priorities.
After all, I once crawled out of a dark tunnel not far from this block with my innocence intact as the world began to end around me. It didn’t take long for me to cave to what was necessary to keep myself alive. My fists clench, remembering the shapes of a hundred different pieces of rubble in my hand, the sensation of blood slicking off them, the twinning triumph and despair at the fact that I had lived. I wasn’t made for violence, but I learned it fast and well under Umber-ruled skies. I don’t want to go back to the city I knew years ago and what it will take to survive it.
But this time is different. This time it has to be. This time, there are people waiting for me at the other side of this nightmare. And it’s that thought—the thought of the relieved look that’ll break over Gal’s face and the wry smirk that’ll tug at Wen’s lips when I make it to the rendezvous—that has me pushing off the wall and diving headfirst into the tumult of the evacuation.