Teriana might already be dead, the voice countered. Your father, too. You know Killian’s alive.
He wouldn’t want me to kill anyone to save him.
True, the voice conceded. But what about to save his people?
“I’ll give you some time to consider,” Malahi said, tearing Lydia back into the moment. “But know this: You getting on one of those ships isn’t going to happen. You ride west and assassinate my father or I hand you over to Quindor. And lest you think me a total fool, you take that horse and try to run, I’ll use every resource at my disposal to hunt you down.”
There was no way out. No escape.
Lifting the hem of her skirts, the other girl extracted a knife, slicing through the bindings on Lydia’s wrists and ankles. “And if you don’t like those options,” she said, gesturing to the window, “you can always jump.”
Waiting until the door had slammed shut behind Malahi, an exterior bolt turning, Lydia tore around the room, searching for tools she might use. A weapon. Something to pry the door open. Anything.
But there was nothing.
Even if there were, she strongly suspected there were guards outside her door. The girls she’d called friends, but their loyalty was to Malahi, never mind that they all believed the worst of her.
Panic rose, hot and fierce, her heart threatening to tear out of her chest.
Think!
Sitting back on the chair, Lydia forced herself to consider her options. She could lie to Malahi and agree to the mission, then try to ride south until she reached a port. The risk was that both pigeons and ships would beat her there, and there was no chance that Malahi wouldn’t send word ahead with her description and a reward for catching a rogue healer. Same if she rode north—the Princess was too clever to be fooled by that.
Be smarter than her.
She needed to give Malahi a reason not to spend resources trying to hunt her down, and the only way that would happen was if she believed Lydia were dead.
You can always jump.
Her eyes flicked to the window. Walking over, Lydia flipped open the latch and swung in the pane of glass, the wind immediately sending the curtains billowing. Below, the ocean crashed against the cliffs, and in the distance she could vaguely make out the longboats ferrying evacuees to the ships anchored farther out.
Even if she survived the fall and managed to swim to one of them, only children and their mothers were being evacuated today. They’d send her right back to shore.
She could try to make it to the harbor, hide in the city for a few days, then try to board one of the ships. Except Malahi might not be so quick to believe the fall killed her and would have her description passed around. Would give it to Quindor, who was known for his talent in tracking down rogue healers.
She needed another path.
The xenthier.
The trapdoor to the tunnel had been locked and secured, but Lena had dropped the lock to the gate barring the ocean. It was possible that the lock had been replaced in the intervening hours, but in the chaos … it was just as possible the gate remained unlocked. If she could get inside, it would be easy to retrace her steps to the xenthier stem.
You have no supplies.
You have no weapons.
“It might be my only chance,” she answered the voice, climbing up onto the windowsill. “Teriana’s only chance.”
What about Killian?
What about the people of Mudaire?
Jump, and you condemn them all.
Lydia stared at the water, so very far below. “I can’t save them both.”
You know you can save Killian. You have no such certainty about Teriana.
Closing her eyes, Lydia allowed her doubts and fears and hopes and desires to twist through her thoughts. To fight with one another as the wind buffeted her unfeeling body. It was Killian or Teriana. One or the other. A hot tear ran down her cheek.
Choose.
Lydia jumped.
58
KILLIAN
Dread slammed into him like a battering ram, and Killian whirled his horse, staring back at the distant shadow of the city.
Go back.
His marching army parted to go around him, but he might as well have been alone on the plain.
She’s in danger.
“What’s wrong?” Sonia had circled Seahawk around next to him. “Is it Malahi?”
Lydia.
“Do you need to go back?”
Yes. Even as Killian thought the word, he turned his head back west, marching men and women flowing up the road. The only hope for saving an entire city.