Page 34 of Great Falls Protector
I reach the arena door. Heat slaps my face, scorching my lungs when I make the mistake of inhaling. Inside me, magic rallies, ready to make up in force what it lacks in direction or plan.
Feet pound the earth behind me. This time when River grabs hold, he twists my arm ruthlessly behind my back.
Pain grips my shoulder, and I bite back a cry. River’s breath is hard and furious on the back of my neck, his grip unyielding. My words and curses fall on ears so deaf that a shiver runs along my spine.Forcing me away from the mayhem in the courtyard, the large male marches me toward the green border of the reflection garden—and a small side door of the keep. It’s low and wooden, half hidden behind a huge flowering rhododendron.
I barely catch sight of Arisha’s horrid dress amidst the crowd before the flow of bodies shoves her along again. This time, my friend doesn’t seem to mark me at all, whether by chance or design.
“Arisha!” My voice is lost beneath the panicked screams and thundering shouts of the guards. Before I can call her name again, River throws open a side door and shoves me into the keep.
I stumble, blinking against the sudden dimness. We’re in a large marble-floored corridor with portraits decorating the walls. The same corridor where River broke up with me just this morning, though far down on its opposite end. The same one I took when trying to escape Zake.Nothing good has happened in the corridor yet. “What are you doing, River?” I demand.
River quickly surveys the space, his usually perfect uniform now streaked with patches of dirt and soot, his dark hair standing up in sweat-soaked strands. The chiseled lines of the warrior’s handsome face are unyielding as stone. Finding what he was looking for—a narrow door so blended into the fine gilded wallpaper that I wouldn’t have known it was there—River yanks it open. “Get inside.”
I stay where I am.
River moves toward me, his intent to shove me clear.
“Stop it.” Slapping the bastard’s hand away, I step into the narrow opening to find myself in what appears to be a dank staircase.
River follows at my heels, pulling the door closed behind him. As my eyes adjust, I see that we’re on a landing no bigger than two paces across. The male’s bulk takes up most of the space. Most of the air. The scent of smoke, blood, and ire cling to his clothes. The first two are merely the scents of a frenzied rush from a burning structure; the last one makes my insides twist in dread.
River’s nostrils flare as he twists me around. Between the sunlight drifting in through strategically positioned slits in the wall—the ugly utilitarian things being too small to be called windows—and my immortal sight, the anger in River’s gray eyes is as plain as day.
“Why, Leralynn?” He spits the words, his deep voice echoing against the curved stone walls, his body unfurling for full effect.Stars,River is truly using his height to intimidate me, to force me back a step, though there’s nowhere to go. His broad chest heaves, his beautiful face jagged with fury.
An utterly different male from the one I saw this morning—the one who said he loved me even as he severed me from his life.
“Why what? You are the one who forced me in here, so maybe you tell me why,” I hiss back, indignation raising my blood to a simmering heat. I can’t do this now, can’t be in the same space with the male whose very presence rips into my soul, making me unable to think. And I especially can’t be here while innocent people are choking, their skin blistering with burns because I couldn’t keep my magic in check for ten bloody seconds after getting it back. I need to be out there helping, doing something to correct this. I shake my head at River. “Better yet, don’t tell me anything. You and I are done, remember? So stay out of my way.”
“I know what you are,” River snaps, a flash of pain crossing his gray eyes. “Stop lying.”
A crashing sound comes from above us, turning River’s attention up the steps before I can say anything. Footsteps echo from the walls, a chorus of voices rising in a growing rumble.
“What’s happening?”
“Fire.”
“Earthquake.”
“The islanders are attacking. I warned you this was a trap—”
“My arm! Someone help! My arm!”
“I see they finally got the Great Hall unlocked.” River’s teeth flash once in the dim light, then he’s pushing past me and up the stairs with the stride of a male who knows exactly where he’s heading. “I need to check on them. You stay here.”
Ignoring him, I turn right back around and shove at the door.
It doesn’t budge, the engaged lock clattering at me mockingly. River locked me in. My jaw clenches, murder flooding my mind as I stalk up the stairs after him, the muffled noises growing louder with each winding step.
Taking the final turn of the spiral stairs, I expect to step into a populated room—only to discover myself in a plain, white-walled antechamber, the stone floor worn with years of servants’ boots and spills. Unlike the landing below, the musky room is spacious enough for a dozen people to stand comfortably.
A shelf large enough to hold a half-dozen platters is built into the wall next to a single door, the space beside it sporting a series of narrow slits at an average man’s eye level. Seeing River stoop down to peer into one, I realize the peepholes were intended for just that—a master butler quietly examining the needs of his masters on the other side, sending out foodstuffs and drinks as the situation calls.
Pulling away from his viewing spot, River glares at me. “I told you to stay downstairs.”
Ignoring the male, I brace my hand on the stone and peer into the lowest slit. The mezzanine overlooking the Great Hall beneath sprawls before me, the great space right by where River and I once danced now hosting overflow tables and chairs to supplement the seating. The servants’ antechamber appears to be several steps above the mezzanine floor to afford the best view possible, just as the acoustics carry the sounds from the large chamber the best they can. Clearly, River chose this particular location for a reason.
With the clever positioning of the peepholes, I mark people pouring into the hall itself in heedless droves of royals and guests, cadets and servants. Most are covered in ash-streaked sweat, some with blood. Most of the children are crying—though the ones who aren’t worry me more, their numb, wide-eyed silence a clear sign of shock.
