My blood goes cold.
Chapter 8
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I don’t sound convincing, not even to myself.
“Really?” She tilts her head as she stares down at me. “Is that the best you can do?”
“You obviously have me confused with someone else.” I wave my hand dismissively, immediately regretting the gesture. It’s just the sort of action I would look for to determine if someone is lying.
“No, I don’t. I’m really just wondering if your father exiled you for all those protests or if he really believes you’re dead.”
I stare at her. I’m so profoundly taken aback, I don’t know how to respond. My tongue, normally prepared with a plethora of smooth talk, feels like heavy grade sandpaper. All I can manage is to throw it back at her.
“And what about you, your highness? It’s clear you’re from the capital. What political family’s name do you hold?”
Before she can answer, the ground begins to shake. It starts with a slow, deep rumble, and quickly escalates. Within a few seconds, I have to brace myself to keep from falling over, and rocks begin to tumble down the side of the hill.
“We have to get out of here,” she says. She plants her feet firmly and looks up toward the mountaintop.
“Just some aftershocks from the west,” I say. “It might be over.”
“It’s not. This isn’t a normal quake.”
“How do you know that?” Before I can get an answer, the ground begins to rumble again.
“Run!” she screams as she starts running up the hill.
“Watch the rocks!” I don’t know why she’s heading up when rocks could dislodge at any moment, but she doesn’t listen to me. I end up running after her, dodging rolling stones and falling tree limbs as the shaking of the earth increases.
“This way!” she yells as she continues to ascend.
I follow her as quickly as the shaking ground will let me. She has amazing agility, and she leaps over tumbling stones without missing a step. I have a difficult time keeping up, and I fall behind as I am nearly crushed by a falling boulder.
“Over here!” She’s stopped near an outcropping of rocks abutting a large tree with roots spreading out into the side of the mountain, holding the earth together even as the ground around it shakes and threatens to break apart.
She grabs hold of a group of vines and pushes them to one side. I rush to catch up, slip partway down the hill, and have to regain my footing. I scramble up to her using my hands for support as ash billows about, choking me.
When I reach her, I’m astonished by what I see.
Behind the rocks and vines, there is a two-foot by two-foot square of metal with a lever on the outside. I watch her grab the handle and yank it open, glance quickly at me, and then drop to her knees to crawl inside. I crawl in after her, and she reaches around me to pull the metal door closed.
It’s pitch black inside, but I follow her touch and sound farther into the shaft. The floor of the shaft is crumbled dirt, but when I reach out to touch the sides and the top, I feel cool metal around us. The inside dimensions are not much bigger than the two-foot by two-foot door, and there is very little room to move. The shaft is angled upward but not so steep as to be difficult. Within a few feet, the woman stops and rolls to her side, and I wriggle my way in beside her.
“You think we’re safe in here?” I ask.
“It’s reinforced,” she says. “It’s better than outside.”
“That’s likely.” I’m not entirely sure the statement is true, but at least we aren’t being hit by boulders. I can hear them rolling across the ground on top of us as the earth vibrates and shifts.
Her body is close, and even with the earth shaking around us, I’m very aware of her proximity. I can feel her body warmth along my side even where we aren’t directly touching. In the cramped space, lying on our sides and facing each other, my instinct is to wrap my arms around her, but I don’t. I have a feeling that she wouldn’t appreciate it, so I lay my arm awkwardly down my side.
The quake subsides, but I can still hear debris rolling over the top of us. We sit in dark silence as aftershocks hit one after the other over the next hour. When the aftershocks stop, we continue to lie, tense and motionless, for a long time.
“I think it might be over,” she finally says.
“I think so, too.” I shift around a little, trying to relieve some pressure on the shoulder I’ve been lying on. “Do you have light?”
Before she can answer, a loud, sharp crack resonates through the ground. I can feel the echoes of the sound throughout my body as the earth shakes one more time, and I hear loud crashes above us. Dirt begins to sift through the seams of the metal shaft, and I reach my arm over her to partially cover her with my body as dust and ash rain down on us.