Page 61 of A Tribute of Fire

The only sensible explanation was that someone had been aiming for me and had missed. But if that was true, then there would have been a follow-up arrow, as an archer would do if he’d failed to hit his target the first time.

There were no more arrows.

Quynh groaned and I went over to help her get the rope off her ankles. When she got to her feet, she immediately collapsed, and I had to put my arm around her waist to keep her upright.

“My ankle!” she exclaimed through clenched teeth.

“Try to put your weight on it,” I said.

She did as I instructed and yelled out, falling against me.

“I think it’s sprained,” she said.

There was no way we could keep running. She would have to rest for a little while because, much as I might have wanted to, I couldn’t carry her to the temple. Even if I had known exactly where it was.

Stupid girl, use your surroundings! Focus!

Again, Demaratus was right. I glanced around until I saw words pressed into the dirt that said “Follow me.”

I tightened my grip around Quynh. “I know where we can go to get help.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

We moved as quickly as we could. It was obvious how much pain Quynh was in, but she didn’t complain.

I felt incredibly guilty, as if I had caused this. Earlier I’d told her to pretend she’d been injured and had somehow willed it into being. This evil existed because I had spoken the words.

“You should leave me,” she said. “I was worried about slowing you down before, but now? There’s no way we can make it. We’ll both get caught.”

The footprints with the words went left and I continued to follow them. “I will tie you to me if I have to. I’m not leaving you.”

“Lia, you must see reason. I can’t go on.”

“Yes, you can. We might be close. We’ll get to the temple and then you’ll have plenty of time to heal.”

The footprints led to a wooden door that had been painted red. I knocked on it, and when it opened slightly, I jammed my foot inside and entered the front room. The woman at the door gasped as I pushed past her. Several other women were gathered inside, all wearing fine-twined linen in various bright colors.

Quynh realized where we were. “Hetaerae.”

Hetaerae were expensive courtesans, the very best of what their profession had to offer. And my regiment had shared with me that thehetaerae would often custom order sandals with the words “follow me” embedded into the soles with metal spikes so that potential customers would be able to find their business easily.

I was so glad that the same thing was true in Ilion.

An older woman came downstairs. Her rich black hair was piled up on her head, her dark, piercing eyes taking us in. “What’s all this? Who are you?”

“We are the Locrian maidens. My sister has been injured, and I’ve come to ask you for a place to rest, to heal.” My heart thundered inside me. I knew this was a big risk, but we had to get off the street.

The woman shook her head at me. “We cannot help you.”

“No citizen of Ilion may assist us. Are you a citizen?”

At this she hesitated. “No. I am Sasanian.” She showed me her right wrist, and there was a tattoo there. A small dot surrounded by four oblong petals, representative of their nation.

“Then you can help us.” All the hetaerae in Locris had been from other places, and I had gambled on the fact that the same would be true in Ilion.

“Your presence here endangers my girls.”

She would be taking a risk by sheltering us—I understood that. “The men of the city are hunting us, and we’re both injured. I’m asking you, woman to woman, to please help us. We’ll die without it.”

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