Chapter 35: Getaway
The mayor’s audience chamber swims into view, all golden and glittering. I don’t know how I got here, but I’m not alone—someone’s breathing. Behind me.
I pick myself up off the floor warily, twist, and lunge to attack. Bad idea—my head spins and the contents of my stomach try to sear their way back up my throat. I stagger a couple steps, bouncing shoulder-first off a mirror. The spiderwebbing cracks are shatteringly loud.
I cringe, but no one comes running. And the only other person in the room is Ange.
Her ankles are bound to the legs of a gilt chair, her wrists wrapped in thick gold cord. She must have been drugged; such restraints seem as if they could hardly hold her long. Still, I wait several long moments before moving to free her. This has to be part of Marya
