but her limbs felt numb and useless. “Let me go!” she shrieked, trying to move, trying to get away, but someone was standing on her skirts.
“It’s her,” a woman hissed. “I saw her in the market today. Check her pockets.”
They were robbing her.
Panicked, Lydia fought harder. She needed that coin—if they stole it from her, not only would she lose her best chance at making it home to help Teriana, she might well starve. Her fists connected with flesh, and the woman swore and pulled back. In a second, three more were on Lydia. She lost count of how many women were attacking, holding her face down in the filth while they pummeled her with fists and feet.
“Help!” she screamed. “Someone help me.”
No one would. The mass of refugees pressed away from the fight, a blur of faces in the dim light, watching.
“Here!” One of the hands digging in her pockets jerked out, and Lydia sobbed, knowing the fist contained all her silver coins. A boot stomped on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs, but they weren’t paying attention to her now. They were attacking one another.
Silver coins rained down around her, and then it seemed every soul in the warehouse descended at once, the sight of the silver igniting their desperation. People screamed and shouted, fights breaking out all over the floor. Her handful of silver had set off a riot, but there was nowhere to move.
Blood pounding, Lydia fought her way out from under the mass of women, the blows landing on her body barely registering through her panic to get away. All around her, people were being trampled, little children screaming for their mothers.
The faint light of the handful of candles went out, and the riot ended as soon as it started. The mass of people swirled and jostled, each individual trying to carve out new space. Lydia collapsed against the wall of the building, the stone blissfully cool against her battered face. Adrenaline continued to course through her veins as she listened for any signs the women would come after her for more, but it seemed she had been forgotten. All around her, she could hear the moans of the injured, the ragged breaths of the survivors, and the silence of the dead.
Lydia clutched the wall like a lost sailor holding tight to a bit of driftwood in the storm, feeling the life all these people were shedding drifting over her. Clinging to her. Becoming part of her. And as it did, her injuries healed, the sensation prickling and unnatural and awful. Thunder shook the building, and she welcomed each boom because it drowned out the sounds around her. With no sense of time, the night seemed to drag on and on, and she forced herself to concentrate on each measured breath she took.
“I will survive this,” she whispered. “I will find a way out of this city. I will find the Maarin, and I will make it home in time to help Teriana. In time to save my father. I will make Lucius Cassius pay for his crimes.” She repeated her goals like a mantra, using the words to drive away her fear and refusing to acknowledge that she had no idea how to make them happen. Because it didn’t matter.
“Whatever it takes,” she said as thunder shook the walls of the shelter. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
25
KILLIAN
Killian jerked awake, reaching for his sword and nearly falling off the side of the sofa.
Around the heavy velvet curtains, lightning flashed, thunder following straight on its heels, but in the room itself nothing stirred. Yet the anxiety racing through his chest didn’t dissipate, his pulse rivaling the storm with the way it throbbed in his ears.
Unsheathing his sword, Killian crossed the room, his feet sinking into the thick carpets as he approached the bed. Easing aside the curtain, he listened to Malahi’s steady breathing, a flash of lightning illuminating her face, blond hair spread out over her pillow. She stirred and Killian dropped the curtain so as not to disrupt her rest any further.
Rolling his shoulders, he retreated back to the sofa where he flopped down on his back, sword in easy reach. But no amount of twisting and turning made him comfortable enough to sleep, and with an annoyed sigh he dragged on his boots and made his way to the antechamber. Unbolting the door, he stepped out, nodding at the guards on duty. “Stay inside with her,” he said to Sonia. “Keep the