Bonds of Brass (The Bloodright Trilogy #1) - Emily Skrutskie Page 0,54
go with a kick in the ribs that felt like it nearly snapped me in half—I knew I had to trick someone into watching my back.
It took years to figure out the logistics, but I was able to attach myself to the Umber reconstruction, to the Umber military when they opened the academy, and eventually to the Umber heir himself. I saw opportunities, grabbed them, and didn’t let go. I know exactly how the game goes.
But that doesn’t mean I agree to be a piece in Wen’s.
“Sorry, junker. I’ve got to get moving.”
“Wait—”
With one quick kick, I pop the hatch open, squinting as light spills in. I choke down a breath of fresh air and glance both ways. Nothing. No one.
I’ve been gone too long. No doubt the newsfeeds will be covering the incident at the dealers’ alley—Gal might already be mid-panic. I need to get back to him before anything else goes wrong.
“Ettian,” Wen hisses from behind me. Her fingers curl around the edge of the hatch as she peeks out. “It’s not safe.”
I take off at a brisk stroll, shoving my hands deep in my pockets. Only a few Cutters saw my face, and it was in the midst of Wen’s hurricane of chaos. Even with my darker-than-average skin, I’m not distinct enough to draw their attention. They’re looking for a half-burned girl.
I don’t look back as I round the corner.
* * *
—
The closer I get to our building, the more the tension leaves my shoulders. I’m hopelessly dirty and smell faintly of garbage, but I’m in the clear. Still without a ship, but the important thing right now is getting back to Gal.
I duck under the shade of the building’s awning, pull open the iron-handled door, and step into the cool, stuffy darkness of the lobby. Above my head, a bell rings.
The owner, a portly man named Jusun, gives me a nod from the desk, and I freeze in my tracks. Bent next to him is a woman clad in black, peering at something laid out on the table. Her eyes flick to me, then back to the paper. They don’t return. I give her two extra seconds to draw her gun on me, and when she doesn’t, I make for the stairs.
Fast, but not too fast. Eyes focused on where I’m going, but not too focused. One hand in my pocket, the other on the rail as I creak up the steps. My stolen blaster burns a hole in my back where it’s hidden under my shirt.
The bell rings again. I glance back. My stomach lifts like I’m at apogee. The woman at the desk straightens, blinks, and takes three seconds too long to register that Wen Iffan and her rainbow umbrella have slipped into the lobby.
I launch into a sprint, thundering up the stairs three at a time as the room behind me erupts into chaos. Shouts, muffled thuds, and the shriek of boltfire chase me as I climb. I spill out onto the third-floor landing as someone mounts the stairs behind me. I don’t look back to see which of the three.
My fingers fumble on the key in my pocket as I reach the door. “Gal?” I call, my hand shaking too badly to get the sliver of metal into the lock.
The door flies open, and I lunge into the room, blowing clear past Gal to the corner where we’ve tossed our unpacked bags. “Ettian?” he asks. His eyes are wide, his hair messy, but at least he’s not in pajamas again. “What’s going on?”
“We gotta get out of here.” I throw anything I can reach into the bags, stuffing unfolded clothes down in messy heaps. My velvet bag is somewhere at the bottom of my pack—I feel for it to be sure. Gal’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and I startle under his touch.
I glance up. First at him. Then at the door. Unlocked. Unbolted. Before I can leap across the room, the handle turns.