Amaranthe whispered as the sounds of footfalls faded. “You don’t look well.”Retta crouched beside her in the alcove, with Books and Akstyr pressed in behind them. They’d used Akstyr’s guard jacket to fashion a bandage for her, but she must have torn something anew during the last scurry for cover, for fresh blood dampened her hand. Her face was Kendorian pale.“Not far.” Retta leaned her head against the wall. “We’ve been ‘not far’ for an hour. We’re just having trouble finding an unblocked route to our destination.”“I’ve noticed.”“Mia must have guessed where we’re going, and she’s directing troops to hunt in the area.”“Their hunting is proving oddly effective,” Books said. “We keep seeing the same men. It’s as if they know right where we are.” The look he directed at Amaranthe held some extra meaning. Maybe he thought Retta was giving away their position somehow.She shrugged back at him. Striking out on their own wasn’t an option. At this point, Amaranthe was completely lost.
