Page 98 of Hidden

Dirt? Lila’s thoughts skittered. If there was earth beneath this floor, the lower levels of the way station had vanished. Time wasn’t running out—it was already gone.

“Poor Lila, not a weapon or wine bottle in sight,” Farras crooned. Then his tone turned angry. “Did you think you’d get away with setting this rebellion in motion? With turning your back on me?”

She sent a plea to the forest, using the last scrap of her power. She wasn’t relying on magic—she’d used that up—but her affinity with the wood mattered. The table leg came free in her grip.

“Contrary to your own opinion,” she said, “you’re not the center of the universe.”

He swung the shard of wood, and she blocked his strike. The blow made her stumble backward, pain lancing up her arm. He struck again, and this time, his stick shattered. He tossed the remains aside, but not before Lila smashed her table leg against his skull. He dropped to his knees, grabbing her legs as he fell forward. Lila went over backward, landing hard on the pitching ground.

Farras crawled up her body, his hideous, bloodied face rising into view. His hands locked around her throat. Lila struggled for breath, chest heaving in vain. Pain sang through her whole body as she clawed at his grip. Her vision went black, random splotches of light dancing in the void.

The floor tilted again. Lila rolled with the momentum, flipping her attacker to his back. The motion loosened his hold just long enough to suck in a breath. She blinked Farras into focus and gazed into his rage-filled eyes.

Her hand found the table leg, and she jabbed one end into his breast bone. The angle was awkward, because he was still doing his best to strangle her, but aim wasn’t important. Neither was force.

You can have this back now, she said to the forest. Thank you for the loan.

The table leg sprouted roots again, shooting them down through Farras’s body and into the earth below. His scream seared through her as he gave a last painful spasm before finally letting go of her throat.

Lila’s head bowed with exhaustion. Regret died beneath a wave of relief. She’d survived. Thinking would come later.

The wood spearing him exploded into a tree, flinging her off and absorbing whatever was left of the king’s jester. She fell, rolling several times before crashing into a wall.

White-hot pain lanced through her from jaw to tailbone. It took her a moment to realize that she’d been tossed into the passage just outside the banquet hall. The huge glass windows cracked, then shattered, glass raining from the frames. Lila curled into a ball, arms over her head. Seconds passed as tiny slivers of glass stung her skin.

“Lila!” Rafe bent over her. His eyes had flared wolf-yellow, startling beneath the fall of his curling dark hair. “Get up.”

She tried. Cracks spidered up the wall, mirroring the agony scampering along her nerves. Lila hissed air through her teeth, digging her fingers into Rafe’s arms.

In one swift move, he picked her up as if she were no more than a toddler. The motion hurt, and she couldn’t stifle a cry.

“Hush.” Rafe glanced over his shoulder, turning pale as he caught sight of the massive tree trunk blocking their way back to the banquet hall. More tendrils were creeping through the floor.

Lila’s courage wobbled. “Leave me and go. You might still have a chance.”

“I swore to your brother I’d protect you.”

“I release you from that promise.”

“Busy now,” he growled. “Talk less.”

He ran toward the entry hall, reaching the space just as something crashed behind them. Destruction ruled here, too. The stairway that led to the floor above crumbled at the base, bits of elaborate trim dropping off as the banister sprouted leaves. Then the floor gave a heave, throwing them against the wall. Lila’s head bumped something solid, but the knock barely registered. She already hurt in too many places.

Rafe stumbled, catching his footing at the last second.

“Put me down!” She wiggled out of his grasp.

“Can you run?”

“I can try.”

“Okay.” He grabbed her hand, dragging her out of the way as a piece of the ceiling sheared away, spraying plaster and wood shards into the air. The overhead light crashed to the floor at the base of the stairs. Rafe leaped over it, swinging her past the explosion of crystal and sparks.

“This way!” Rafe shouted.

They lunged for the massive front door. Somewhere deep in the house, a support beam whined as it torqued and splintered. The roof buckled to the chorus of more breaking windows.

Something slammed into her shoulder, sending her staggering forward. Her palms hit the floor, but she pushed up and kept running. Rafe was heaving at the door, fighting against a frame that was losing its proper shape. In another minute, that too would fall to rubble—with them under it.

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