Page 132 of Ashes and Understanding
“Farewell,” came the final words through the smoke. “I shall think of you fondly when I reach warm shores and kinder winds.”
Then silence.
She waited.
Nothing.
Is he gone?
She stared at the door, unsure if she dared try it. But her body was shaking, her breath failing. She did not have long.
Then—her name. Shouted hoarsely, ragged with coughing.
“Elizabeth!”
Darcy.
She scrambled to her knees, the sound pulling her like a rope through the haze of pain and fear. Unlocking the latch with numb fingers, she threw open the door.
The hallway was awash in smoke and flame. A figure stood just beyond the frame—tall, staggering, one hand braced against the wall as if the mere act of standing were a trial.
“Darcy!” she screamed.
He turned at the sound of her voice, his face pale beneath soot, his lips parted with another violent cough. He took a step toward her, but his knees buckled.
She flew to him.
“I have you,” she said, one arm curling around his waist as she slung his arm over her shoulder. “We are getting out of here.”
Benjamin whimpered in her other arm, pressing his hot face into her collarbone.
Together they moved, step by agonizing step, through the smoke. The floor trembled beneath them. The beams groaned above their heads. Elizabeth’s eyes burned, her lungs felt shredded with each breath.
They reached the stairwell—but she could barely see through the thick, rolling smoke. Her foot missed the first step.
They fell.
She screamed as gravity yanked them forward, and instinct took over. She twisted her body midair, curling protectively around Benjamin as they tumbled down the steps, over and over. Her shoulder struck the railing. Her hip slammed the edge of a stair. Her back hit another with bruising force.
Darcy fell alongside them, rolling head-over-heels until they reached the bottom. He hit the ground, the wind knocked out of his fragile lungs. He gasped for air, one hand reaching blindly toward her as she lay shielding the child with her body.
For a moment, there was only the thud of her pulse, the baby’s faint cries, and the thunder of fire above them.
“Darcy,” she gasped, trying to sit up, her bruised body aching everywhere. “We have to get up.”
He tried. He truly did—but his body gave out beneath him, another coughing fit tearing through his lungs. “Darcy, come on! I cannot carry you both!”
“Leave me,” he gasped out.
“What? No!”
He shook his head, eyes closing in pain. “Go,” he rasped. “Save him. Save yourself.”
“No—please—”
He opened his eyes again, the agony in them nearly undoing her. “I love you,” he said between heaving coughs. “Go.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “I cannot—”
