Page 160 of Thorn Season
Now I bolted through the gap and inhaled the familiar, musty air.
And just as I’d once imagined, I ran.
I frantically hurtled across the stones, slamming hard against each turning, teeth clashing with every stride. The passage was stagnant and narrow, giving the impression of being enclosed within the palace walls. But as I heard Erik pounding after me, I knew I would rather fight for my life in here—would ratherdiein here—than go back to his cell.
Back to the darkness and hopelessness and the rattling chains. Back to the fear of spending forever behind those bars—alone but notalone, because Erik would always be there, wearing me down until I took the shape of what he wanted.
Raw terror bled into my desperation, the pressure of it near bursting as I rounded another corner—
And heard Erik smack to the ground.
My hope flared, sharp and bright, but I couldn’t let it derail my focus. Though I’d prepared these passages weeks ago, I’d memorized each route—had even run through the steps in my anxious dungeon dreams.
So, I knew how to avoid the traps I’d set.
Erik did not.
His cool laughter echoed across the stones as he hauled himself up. Stringing twine between the walls had been Garret’s favorite trick—one he’d used over and over when we’d set similar traps at Capewell Manor.
But Erik would see the next few coming.
“Very creative, my love.” His footsteps clipped onward, more careful now. “How long have you been planning for this chase?”
I pushed my legs to put more distance between us, my palm slippery around the knife. Even in my nightmares, I hadn’t imagined that Erik would be the one to hunt me through these passageways.
He paused at what must have been another length of twine and chuckled again.
Then a grunt.
In his arrogance, he hadn’t seen the tar I’d avoided. And now his boots were stuck in it.
“What is this?” he called. “A child’s game? You’ve gone to all this trouble, and to what end?”
He didn’t understand. Unlike the attacker for whom I’d set thesetraps, I didn’t plan on cornering Erik. I only needed to slow him down.
I only needed to get away.
I heard the clink of glass, then Erik’s curse rang out.
Hysterical laughter bubbled in my throat.Gracious gods, this was actually working!
“Alissa,” he warned, all amusement gone. “I’m growing bored of this.”
I refused to hear him. A sliver of light trickled across the stones, growing closer—the door to the kitchens. The door that would lead meout.
With victory propelling me, I didn’t see the bump in the floor. But I felt it. My ankle rolled and I flailed, trying to regain my balance.
I heard thethudbefore the sensation registered. Then pain all over—singing in my bones, sending sparks across my vision.
The mental image of that cell blazed through my agony.
I had to get up.
My heavy hands scrambled over the stones, and I found the knife. I forced myself to stand. But my eyes watered from the blow; I couldn’t see the light anymore.
Where were the kitchens?
Then I heard Erik’s sharp breaths—too close—and I knew where to turn—I was already stumbling away—
