Page 32 of The Flame and the Forsaken

“There’s a word for this... this idea that after investing so much time in something, you believe you can’t walk away,” Remy answered. He stared intently at the door Nora had exited through. “But it’s folly. It leads to folly. And this...”

“Mar, I agree. I have a bad feeling.” Augustine leaned in until her breath swept Mariel’s neck. “If Des were here, he’d feel it.”

“But he’s not, is he? And he won’t be until we come through for him.” Mariel rolled her neck, cracking it. She squeezed out a pursed breath. Sweat beaded between her breasts and along her collarbones. “She said her husband was here?—”

“Did she?” Augustine replied. “I don’t ken she answered your question directly at all, and why is that?”

“You’re being ridiculous, Auggie. This woman has no reason to distrust us or our intentions. We have, as far as she knows, legitimate business with her husband.”

“Maybe because they’re on high alert after last night,” Remy said. His head kept shaking. “I just think?—”

They whipped their heads toward the door at the sound of boots clanging on stone. Not one pair, but several. Heavy, full of intent. A storm of swords slapping buckles.

Mariel’s mouth parted, but all she could do was nod at them both and then the door they’d come in through.

The three of them slowly stood. Remy drew a dagger, but she shook her head at him and mouthed,Run!

Augustine was first, launching into a dead sprint toward the entrance. No sooner than she started did the guards rush in.

“Go, go!” Mariel cried, shoving Remy from behind as they reached the door. “Masks on! Split up!”

“No!” Augustine yelled back. “We stick together!”

“As your leader, I amcommandingyou to go the opposite way I go!”

“Just do as she says,” Remy barked, practically throwing his sister up onto her horse. He rushed to mount his as Mariel pulled herself astride her own. “Our meeting spot, as soon as it’s safe. Youbetterbe there.”

“Stop them!” a man screeched. “Head them off!”

“I’ll see you soon,” Mariel promised, but as she charged south, she knew better. She waited just long enough to see her friends ride east before turning her horse toward the encroaching guards and crying out, “You want the Flame so badly, lads? Here’s your chance!”

Charged with adrenaline, Mariel urged her horse toward Devon and the port that would take her to theMistwitch.

“Fuck,”Samuel whispered, the first time Erran had ever heard him use a proper curse. “What do you suppose... doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. I’ll go after?—”

“Follow the others. I’ve got Mariel,” Erran commanded and raced down the hill and through the dust of the three guards pursuing her.

Devon had never felt so far away,but the time passed in a deafening blur of fear and hooves, and before long, Mariel was barreling down the long hill that led into the small fishing village, where she would either steal a rowboat and race for theMistwitchor die trying.

The plan seemed less and less viable as the guards tailing her closed in. Their horses were built for speed and distance, and her rented one was not. They were purposely wearing her out so they could gain on her when she exhausted her mare.

Mariel pushed the poor beast harder and harder, promising they were almost there.

She prayed in bleak desperation that Remy and Augustine had outrun their own pursuers. If something befell them, it would be entirely her fault. They’d never used the word, but if they had, she’d have deserved it. Reckless. That was how she’d been acting all day, no more than when she’d realized what she planned to do. What she should have done was leave Banner’s home after the first moment she’d felt something terrible was coming, but instead, she’d let a dozen more moments like that one pass in her single-minded stubbornness to be right.

She shouldn’t have gone to Sandymount at all. Her mind, split between the chase and a cataloging of her remorse, pulled no punches assessing her motive. For the first time in Obsidian Sky’s history, she’d ignored her instincts and trudged forward in spite of them. It was the one thing she hadn’t compromised on, their safety.

Mariel approached her last chance to turn south into the village, toward the docks, but she knew she wouldn’t make it. She’d already decided what to do instead, she only needed to dig deep for the courage.

Her horse reared as she slid to a near stop and forced a hard turn to the east, heading down a path parallel to the sea. She gritted down and leaned in for the final push, praying her landmark, the tall, half-leaning stone pine, was still there.

“What’s the bitch doing?” one of the men said amid their flutter of course correction.

Her borrowed horse struggled up a small embankment. “Come on, just a little farther. We’re almost there,” she urged, her forehead tickling his mane. Her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest, and she wondered if that was something that could actually happen to a person.

To find out, she’d need to die, and she refused to go down without one hell of a fight.

Erran had helda safe distance for most of the ride, but when he saw the Devon coastline appear under the midday sun, he knew they were nearing the end of the chase.

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