We did not stop moving for nearly an hour.
The streets blurred past, narrow alleys, open market squares, the backs of buildings that leaned so close together they blocked out the stars. The letters stayed inside Lina's shirt, pressed flat against her skin, their edges visible only when she breathed. Veylan kept pace better than expected for a man his age, driven by the kind of fear that burns cleaner than courage. His face was pale, his breathing ragged, but he didn't slow.
Darius's new cuts and the older wounds spoke constantly through the bond. I felt every one of them as heat and pull and the slow drip of strength leaving both of us. The gash on his shoulder, the reopened wound in his thigh, the shallow cut across his ribs, each one was a thread of pain that wound through me, connecti
