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Tulip inhales sharply. “You could’ve killed yourself, Lola!”
“I didn’t.”
I go to move the boulder over the smudge of black I saw, and when I do, I see …
“IS THAT A DOOR?” Tulip shouts, excitement bubbling up inside her. I look and see her jumping on her toes, childlike excitement in her eyes. A wide grin stretches my face.
The Witch’s Ladder is curled around the handle of a hatch in the rock face like a proud cat.
Chapter 25
Zeph
Imustfindher.
I left Plume, Loris, and Nimh. They tried to stop me, of course. But I have no control over myself when it comes to her. Of course, they’re disappointed in my decision and are trying to find a few Summer Seasonale who will work to dismantle the shields so the plan can continue without me.
I cannot let Mace have her. I don’t know what will happen when he has her, but if Loris’s statement is true, that she’s a God? He cannot be allowed to command that level of power.
My brain twists and stretches in an attempt to fathom what he’s truly capable of. I’ve known him all my life, and we’ve never gotten on well. Is my desire to thwart him a personal vendetta, or can I trust my gut?
Intuition is causing me to abandon everything I’ve planned to free the Lowlands from the oppressive rule of Mace and the other Patricians. Can I even trust it anymore? A flicker of doubt crosses my mind - it’s not too late to abandon Viola to Mace and Stone and go back to assisting my friends.
The moment the thought enters, it leaves, and I feel a pull from my center, urging me into the Palace to find Mace.
What are Mace and Stone even planning to do with Viola? I try to push down the feeling of betrayal that rises like bile every time I think of Stone. I cannot let that betrayal weigh me down until I know what’s happening.
What kind of vessel could Viola even be? What would she be used for? My mind flashes to an image of Viola tied up and contained in a cage, held captive until she agrees to do Mace’s bidding.
I would kill him.
How have I missed all their plotting? This year cannot have been the start of it. It must have gone on for ages. And is this the first time they’ve extracted someone from the Race? Viola is a city favorite - how will they explain where she went?
My boots slap on the Palace’s stone floor as I run to the command center, eyes wildly searching for Mace. The room is empty save for Cirrha, who trains those rich brown eyes on my panicked face. “Woah, Zeph, what’s going on?” Her tension is evident in the torn-up pieces of paper that litter the table in front of her.
“Where’s Mace?”
If I can’t trust Stone, I doubt I can trust Cirrha. She’s always worked well with Mace. Still, the desire to tell her what he’s up to swirls in me. I compartmentalize it away, saving it for later when I may need her on my side.
Her eyes roll at me, and she turns back to balling and tearing paper. “He and Stone left a few minutes ago. Something about heading to the arena to set it up for the winner’s ceremony.”
That’s clear across town.
I’m out the door in a flash, running through the streets of Ytopie to get to the arena. Citizens jump out of my path, looking at me as a man possessed. The streets are too firm for my boots, which were not made for running, but I push through. I don’t know what I’m looking for, what Mace and Stone could want at the arena, but I have to get there.
I leave the confines of the city and see the arena not far ahead. The stands built around it from wood and stone, carefully erected by Geomancers, sit empty. In just days, they’ll be filled with people from the city, excitedly waiting to welcome their victors.
I see Mace and Stone in the distance, the sun casting long shadows off their bodies. Outside of the city, the landscape is less manicured and wilder. The grass beneath my feet is plush, muffling the sounds of my footsteps. But I do not care if they hear me at this point. I just need to keep Viola out of their hands.
Stone and Mace enter a door at the arena’s base, and I catch it before it slams shut to slip my body through it. My chest is burning with the exertion, no doubt made worse by my rapidly increasing alcohol consumption lately. I watch from behind a corner as the two slip into a door that leads to the tunnels under the arena. Racers use these tunnels to enter directly into the field.
Bypassing the door they used, I run directly onto the field, aiming for the arena-level ramp that leads down, hoping to cut them off. I take the winding ramp as fast as I can. The lumbering footsteps of Mace and Stone on the stairs hit my ears. They’re not far from me now.
The tunnels are narrow and unlit, my intentions igniting flames in the sconces along the walls as I pass them. Racers enter from the top of the mountain to run through it in these tunnels for the win at the end of the Race. They’re only meant to hold one person across, so no one can enter with another. The musty smell of decay assaults my nose. No one seems to have cleaned the tunnels out since last year, so the exertion of dozens of Racers has permeated the walls. I can barely hear the scuttling of rats’ feet over my own heavy breathing.
I reach the end of the ramp and see the hallway to my left that leads outside to the mountain. But straight ahead of me, I see a tiny flicker of light between two stones in the wall. I squint, attempting to determine the source of brightness, but I cannot see past the glare. Steadying myself, I call upon the light magic within my veins. Even though it is not my primary magic focus, it comes easily to me in this time of need. The light between the rocks grows, pulsing with my magic. Small specks of bright white float around the edges of the light.
Revealing what was once hidden, my magic outlines a door. I run for it, pushing along the rocks. It opens with a small amount of force. Sliding inside, I shut it behind me as silently as I can. I look for anything to prevent it from being opened from the outside, but I’m at a loss. As a last-ditch effort, I cast a shield around it, hoping for the best.
