64
Jori
In the cramped little kitchen, Jori began to wonder if he would ever race again. His legs screamed from being in the same position. Heroic Keepers—or nearly Keepers, to be unnecessarily scrupulous about it—didn’t complain about leg pain when they were hiding. Still, his mind wandered to the sparkling wine he knew the cooks kept on the upper shelves, invisible now in the darkness.
As soon as Jori was sure the conflict directly outside was over, another sound echoed and the fighting renewed. Oh, to stretch! And they still didn’t have a tally of who had made it through the gardens and was in here with him. Did soldiers just have a sense of these things?
“I thought you said we were going to move,” he whispered, barely above a breath. The idea frightened him out of his wits, but tho
