Page 81 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
The water was lukewarm and had a slight humid taste to it, like it’d been sitting out in the sun just long enough to start evaporating. For a second, Kase wished he was back in the Narden Pass, surrounded by snow.
These people hated his father enough to wish his children dead. They claimed Jove was already gone. And Kase…
The man hadn’t recognized him. More than ever, he counted it as a blessing how heavily he favored his mother with her curls and blue eyes. Jove was much the same. Zeke had taken after Harlan the most. Ana had been something else entirely, with her blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Many a rumor had circulated about her parentage a few years before her death, but both Kase and Jove worked hard to quiet them. Only their methods had differed.
Kase’s method may or may not have involved busted knuckles and a few trips to the headmaster’s office. Justified, of course.
“Looks like we have a bit of a dilemma, haven’t we?” Eravin turned the corner and joined them in the corridor. “If you’re trying not to get recognized or have people connect you with Harlan, that little display of yours was about the worst way to go about it.”
He smirked, and Kase wanted nothing more than to smack it right off his face. However, the tunnel wall was currently all that was holding Kase up. Any sudden movements wouldn’t be wise. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
The words sounded weak even to Kase’s ears. Stowe stepped up, putting a hand on Eravin’s shoulder. The man flinched, but he recovered quickly, stepping back. Stowe looked down the sparsely populated corridor, then—golden eyes as hard as stone—looked back at Eravin. “I don’t care what all happened between the two of you, you need to quit sniping at each other and get to looking for someone who can make use of what we have. Jayde is more important than whatever grudge you’re holding.”
Whatever else you could say about Stowe, you couldn’t say he was a coward. The man had witnessed Eravin shoot someone point blank and still stepped up between him and Kase without flinching.
Eravin’s smirk didn’t leave his face. “Well, then, we’d best be on our way, don’t you think?”
Stowe watched him for another moment before helping Kase stand straight. “I’m sorry about your brother, son. But if he’s out of reach, we’ll have to find someone else.”
Kase ran his hand over his face, trying to breathe. Maybe the man had been mistaken. Maybe it’d been a different Stradat’s son, but somewhere along the chain, it’d gotten mixed up. Especially if these people were hoping for Harlan to experience a reckoning.
Jove could be fine. And even if hehadfallen, it didn’t mean he was dead. Kase had just…overreacted.
He didn’t know if he could take another death.
Not for the first time—nor for the last—he desperately wished he had Hallie by his side. He hadn’t realized just how much he depended on her strength until he no longer had her to lean on.
He straightened up to his full height. “I’m good. Let’s go.”
Kase pulled his collar up to help obscure his face as he led the other two down the corridor. Odds were they wereall connected at several points. It wouldn’t make sense for everything to branch out and go on for eternity. They passed several hollowed-out rooms full of people. These rooms looked a little more developed, and the people inside them—though their clothing was dirty and torn—looked familiar. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked as if many of the upper-class survivors had taken these rooms. One had little alcoves with what looked like beds.
Must’ve been nice.
Did they feel any guilt for living in relative comfort when just fifteen feet down the way, someone lay on the bare ground, huddled beneath a threadbare cloak?
Kase clenched his teeth and kept walking. Part of him wondered when he started to care about things like that. He’d never really noticed the people on the side of the lower-city streets in the past—not out of malice or even superiority, just naivety. Now he couldn’t tear his attention away.
After several minutes of walking with only the odd gas lantern hanging from the wall to light their way, the corridor became more and more populated. It was good to know they were probably heading in the right direction. They passed a few more of those rooms, but besides cursory glances about for his mother, he didn’t dwell on them too long. The people staying there were more likely to know his face.
The scene here was much the same as the spot where they’d first descended into this subterranean nightmare. The scrap houses made for a colorful palette that no one would deem art. Kase didn’t look too long in anyone’s face and tugged his collar higher.
“Hey!” A man jumped up from where he sat with at least three daggers in ornate leather sheaths strapped about his waist. Kase couldn’t place him, but he looked familiar. His pulse ticked faster.
When Kase turned his head aside and kept walking, the man grabbed his pack and yanked him back. Kase went for his pistol instinctively, his fingers finding the icy metal. The man let go of his pack and narrowed his eyes.
“Itisyou. Kase Shackley.”
Then he pulled back his arm and punched Kase in the stomach.
Sharp pain radiated out from the impact, and Kase gasped, hunching over against the pain, the pistol falling from his grasp.
Blasted shocks, that hurt. At least he didn’t go for the daggers.
He cradled his aching middle with one hand and held up the other to stop the next blow as the man pulled his fist back again.
Stowe yanked the man back before he could swing again, but it wasn’t enough to keep everyone else in the dingy corridor from hearing Kase’s name. Kase bent against the wall as the hushed murmurs rose to a cacophony of shouts.
Stowe tried to hold the crowd back, but with the limited space, Kase couldn’t defend himself properly. Someone kicked the pistol against his foot. Someone else grabbed hold of his jacket. Kase wrenched out of their grip and squatted down, curling around himself. Static rose in his ears, drowning out everything—even the ache in his stomach. He cursed, but the words were lost in the tumultuous crowd. His bruised abdomen screamed in protest as he desperately scrabbled for the Cerl pistol, his only thought to stop them from dragging him off and—
