Page 142 of Fortune's Blade

One which Ray started determinedly floundering through until I grabbed him again.

“We don’t know this city!” I snarled, my fingernails eating into his flesh. “We need you—”

“My boys are coming to help—”

“What boys?”

“I got two of the family here. They’re on the way; I just called ‘em, and they know this place better than I do. They’ve been here a while—”

I shook him. “Your family? They’re nightclub workers, not soldiers! What the hell do you think they’re going to do?”

“What do you think I will?” he looked at me wildly. “If you and Louis-Cesare can’t get her out, do you think I can? I’m useless against what’s happening out there. But I can do this—”

“What you can do is stop being asshole!”

“Listen! Steen don’t know me from Adam! I can get the kid out ‘cause nobody’ll be targeting me. I’ll just be another refugee—”

“And you can die alongside them!”

But Ray wasn’t listening. I didn’t know what was wrong with him. I left him for a month and he got delusions of grandeur!

“Dorina will never forgive me if I don’t help! I know she won’t!”

“And I’ll never forgive you if you—”

“Auuugghhhh!” he screamed, loudly enough to have me jerking back, before he shoved me into the garbage pile as an enormous fireball tore over our heads.

It burnt a swath down both sides of the corridor before exploding against a wall at the far end. And sent a hail of sharp-edged bits flying, along with a wash of flames that threatened to incinerate me for a second time. And along with those it had already shed while passing overhead, quickly turned the garbage pile into an inferno.

Dragon fire burns fast, but it didn’t burn us because we were suddenly in the Veil. Louis-Cesare, with Dorina flung over his shoulder, had joined the party and rescued us from getting flash fried with a split second to spare. And then from being trampled, as the dragon who had sent the fireball came crashing down the corridor, its vague, ghostly form trashing the hall while looking for us, as if knowing we’d survived.

Which we had by pushing through a wall, since walls don’t matter in the Veil.

Nothing matters in the Veil except time, which was ticking down fast. Very fast, as there were four of us in here, and Louis-Cesare could only hold this state for a couple of minutes with just himself. That time lessened considerably for each extra person he brought along, and once it ran out, that was it for at least a day. Not to mention the fact that we’d used up precious seconds when we first came into this freaking death maze!

Which was probably why he and Ray weren’t wasting any time. They took off, plowing through several cantilevered walls, intangible things that I barely noticed, even as a tug against my skin; then through a deserted kitchen, where the staff had long since fled, leaving behind a mass of dirty trenches now scattered across the floor; then through what appeared to be a burning forest despite the fact that we were still inside the palace, with a group of battling figures spewing flame ahead of us, one of which looked like Antem. And finally, into another small corridor leading to—

I wasn’t sure.

All of that had lasted barely a moment, leaving me confused and out of breath and staring around at a room I couldn’t half see, with the Veil making everything hazy and washed out. It was small, the size of a storage closet, and there were magical murals on the walls. I could see a spell flitting across them like the sparks outside only paler and blue-tinged, for the Veil revealed things as well as concealed them.

Although I didn’t need its help to see a double row of pixies here, hovering in the air with swords out and game faces on, I didn’t know why.

Until I spied something in the crook of one small arm, belonging to a pixie behind all the rest. He was large for one of his kind, and looked frankly deadly, with a battle-scarred face, well-used armor, and a scowl twisting his lips. He appeared to be ready to kill, yet was clutching the tiny bundle in his arm as gently as if it was made out of spun glass.

“What is that?” Louis-Cesare demanded, catching sight of it at the same time I did.

“The heir to the throne,” Ray said, as a tiny face peered out of the blankets.

And I found myself staring at something so small, so unbelievably adorable, so . . . so . . . so . . .

“Precious?” Ray asked sardonically, reading my mind again.

“Yes,” I whispered, wanting to touch it but not daring to in case I hurt it. No, not even like this. It was so sweet and so vulnerable, not even the size of my thumb . . ..

“Grab it and let’s go,” Louis-Cesare instructed harshly, while Ray stared at him.

“Grab it? Those pixies are a lot more dangerous than they look, and they’re guarding the queen’s son. They’re going to go bat shit—”

---