Page 57 of Path of the Dark
The shrill noise jerked Elias’s attention from his second. He hadn’t wanted to kill Santino, but the man hadn’t left him a choice.
His father wanted Ninia dead. Elias no longer did.
A heartbeat later Elias heard shouting coming from the street beyond. Guards.
He turned to Ninia to find her still standing where he’d left her. She was watching him, a bemused expression upon her face.
“Sorry about all of this,” he muttered. “What a mess.”
She inclined her head. “Aye … you’re right about that.”
Elias glanced back at the entrance to the alleyway. Any moment now he’d be surrounded by city guards.
“Why are you standing there?”
Elias swiveled back to Ninia. She was watching him, an incredulous expression upon her face. “Excuse me?”
“You need to go.”
His gaze narrowed. “You want me to run?”
Ninia folded her arms across her chest. “If you’re caught, you’ll be strung up for this.”
Elias frowned. “I spared your life, didn’t I?”
“Nathan won’t care about that. He’ll want to make an example of you.”
The shouting grew louder. Men’s rough voices echoed toward them.
Ninia’s face grew pinched. “Shadows, Elias,” she snapped. “Run!”
Elias backed up. The princess was right. If he didn’t flee now, he was a dead man. It had all gone wrong. Nothing had turned out as he planned—but his change of heart wouldn’t help him.
“Goodbye, Ninia,” he said gruffly.
Elias moved away, continuing down the alleyway in the direction of the river. He clenched his jaw. He hated running, but he didn’t want to sacrifice himself either. The survival instinct stirred. Elias wanted to live, although he didn’t want to leave The Royal City this way—not without seeing Ryana again.
There was no other choice. And once she found out what had happened, she’d want nothing to do with him anyway.
Elias began to run, the worn cobbles slippery underfoot. Behind him, he sensed movement, yet he didn’t slow his pace. He didn’t look over his shoulder.
Turning left, he entered an even narrower alleyway, littered with refuse and the huddled bodies of those who slept rough. Elias leaped over them, accidentally treading on one or two of the prone figures that were so well disguised under piles of filthy rags.
Grunts of outrage followed him, and then he heard the slap of booted feet and angry shouts.
The guards who’d discovered Santino and Ninia were giving chase.
After a few twists and turns, Elias made it to the Rith. The river flowed past, its waters reflecting off the orange glow of the surrounding lamps that lined the river bank. Elias halted on the edge of a stone jetty, breathing in the misty air.
Fortunately, he could swim. However, that didn’t mean he was keen to dive in. He could tell it was swiftly flowing, the sort of river that would have dangerous whirlpools just beneath the surface, hidden from view. There was a reason he’d never seen anyone bathe in its waters—but there was no other way out of the city. He’d never get by the guards at the main gates. It was the river or capture.
Elias muttered a curse, sheathed his still bloodied knife, and jumped in.
The water’s chill made his breath gust out of him. Even now, in summer, the Rith felt as if it came off an ice-flow.
He swam with the current, letting it carry him west, under the walls, and to freedom. The strong flow sucked at him, the chill throbbing through his limbs. It wasn’t easy getting out of the river, for its banks were high and covered in slippery reeds. But, after grabbing hold of a low-hanging willow-branch, Elias heaved himself up on his belly.
Gasping for breath and shivering, he climbed up the bank and onto the road.
