I limp after the man. There’s something wrong with my right thigh, a dull pain that blazes with every step I take.
“Stop,” I shout, but it comes out as a cracked whisper. The man is walking faster and faster, and any second now he’s going to break into a run and disappear.
I aim at the sidewalk ahead of me and depress the trigger.
A round explodes from my gun with a deafening crack, and it kicks so hard in my hand I nearly drop it. The concrete cracks from side to side and dust fills the air.
The man ahead of me stops and turns around. I see what I didn’t consciously recognize when I walked past him the first time. He’s wearing a cap pulled low on his head and a bulky tradesman uniform, but I recognize that sleek face. Those blue eyes.
Tieman.
His eyes open wide, and travel down over my body, looking at injuries I don’t want to know about. Something warm is running down my leg. Right now, I don’t care.
I lift the gun and point it right at his face. “You’re waiting for them to come back, aren’t you? Vadim and Valentina.” Varga’s children, the two people who could rally the hidden People’s Republic supporters to take back power.
Tieman nods at the burning palace over my shoulder. “Now they’ll know their supporters are ready to welcome them back. Shame your shithead fiancé got caught in the explosion.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, tears sliding down my face.
Tieman smirks, and turns his back on me and keeps walking.
I’m not a threat. I’m no one important. I never was.
I take a deep, raspy breath and force my throat to work. “Stop now or I’ll shoot.”
Tieman slows to a halt, and starts to laugh. He turns around and shakes his head. “Oh, sure. You’ll shoot me.”
“Lie down on the ground. Face down. Put your hands behind your back.”
“You got about…” he looks at what must be blood running down my leg, “maybe a minute before you pass out. I’ll wait.”
He folds his arms and smiles wider. I keep my finger on the trigger, trying not to reveal the panic that’s circling through me. I’m dangerously light-headed, and if I pass out, Tieman’s going to get away.
I need help. I point the gun at the sky and fire off another round, gasping as the sound ricochets through my skull. There are a dozen armed guards just a hundred feet back at the palace. The person they all want to find is right here.
Right here.
While Jakob burns to death.
I let out a sob, and my legs buckle beneath me. My left knee smashes into the concrete, but I manage to keep the gun raised and pointed at Tieman. He swims in and out of focus. His face is pulled into something grotesque as I start to pass out. A grinning, monstrous figure in a funhouse mirror.
He sees something over my shoulder and his face suddenly goes blank. His arms drop and he turns to run.
“No.” Without thinking about it, I depress the trigger a third time. The gun recoils in my hand, but this time, the gunshot is a muted echo as the world slips into darkness.
I barely feel anything as my head hits the concrete.
My hearing comes back first.
“Careful. There’s glass in her leg.”
A deep, familiar voice sounds in the darkness behind my eyes, though not the one I want to hear. My arm flails and I open my eyes. I clutch a fistful of his sleeve and gasp, “Jakob. Where’s Jakob?”
Levanter pretends not to hear me as he takes off his belt, fastens it around my thigh and pulls it tight. He waves an ambulance worker over. “There’s glass in her thigh. She’s lost a lot of blood. Get her to the hospital, now.”
Two EMTs try to lift me onto a stretcher, but I grab the Archduke’s wrist and hold on for dear life. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where Jakob is.”
He tries to pull himself free, but blood loss or not, I’m not letting go.
Levanter takes a deep breath. “He saved Wraye.”
Relief courses through me. Of course, he did. That’s exactly what Jakob would do, and if he saved Wraye, then that means he wasn’t killed in the explosion.
Levanter glances toward the palace, where half a dozen firemen are pointing hoses at the flames. The water vanishes into the blaze like it’s pouring down a drain, and the fire only seems to burn harder. More firemen are pointing at doors and windows, as if making a plan to enter the building.
“Someone told him you were at the palace,” Levanter explains, putting a hand on my shoulder. Not to comfort me, but to keep me where I am as I realize the truth.
Jakob went into that firestorm, and he’s searching for me.