The Shadow Throne

Page 13

I flashed him a grin. “Imagine the possibilities if I’d had more gunpowder.”
Mott didn’t act impressed, but I knew he was. They were fine explosions.
Then I ran over to Imogen, whose honey brown eyes blazed with disapproval. I knew she’d be angry with me — she often was. I rarely blamed her for that since, admittedly, I usually deserved it. But this time, it wasn’t the sort of anger I could laugh off. We remained in a very dangerous situation.
I first removed the gag from her mouth, and when I did, I felt overwhelmed by a sudden desire to kiss her. The pull was stronger than anything I’d ever felt before, and was a feeling I didn’t entirely understand. But I held back and instead asked, “Are you hurt?”
Ignoring that, she said, “You know what they’d do to Mott and me just for information. What do you think they’ll do to you?”
“If we get out of here, none of us will have to find out.”
“No, Jaron, please just go! This place is a trap. I am the trap!”
Her body wiggled while she argued, and though her legs were free, she was complicating my attempts to reach her tied hands. I said, “You can help me or not, but I won’t leave without you!”
She huffed, and then went still so that I could reach her ropes. While I sliced at them, I said, “Once we’re free, we’ll run toward the swamp. Mott has a boat waiting there.”
“We won’t make it. Not all of us.”
“We’re just going to run. Don’t look back. Just run.”
“They were asking Mott about you, but at first he wouldn’t tell.” Imogen bit into her lip with worry. “Once they brought me here, and the whip, he told them he would cooperate. I begged him not to. I hate that they used me against you. I’d rather be dead than be the cause of your downfall.”
I hesitated long enough to look squarely at her. “Never say that. I need you alive.” I went back to work and added, “I’m nearly through the rope. Get ready to run.”
She had one hand free by then and used it to comb her fingers through my hair, brushing the strands away from my face. Thick and brown, it had been cleaned up from the coarse chopping I had given it before I went to the pirates. Now I wished it were longer so there could be more for her fingers to get lost in. Even here, I felt drawn to her touch and had to force myself to concentrate on the rope.
“When you’re finished, let me have your knife,” she said. “I can fight too.”
Once her other hand was free, she gave me a warm embrace. I thought about Roden’s comment that I had been lying to myself about Imogen. Maybe she had told herself some lies as well.
Before I could speak, she whispered, “Whatever happens next, promise me that you will choose to live.”
Behind us, Mott finally tore free from his binds. When Herbert went to help him stand, the young Avenian who had untied him immediately ducked into the shadows and escaped. Mott grabbed the boy’s sword from me and said, “We must hurry. He’ll tell everyone we’re here.”
I put my knife in Imogen’s hands, aware of my fingers brushing against hers, and then pulled her along with me. “Go!”
We weren’t even out of the trees before a new group of soldiers rushed at us. Herbert continued firing arrows into the clearing, doing what he could to open a path for us. I guessed that Evendell was somewhere outside of the camp, watching for us as well. Mott yelled at me to leave, and as he fought, Imogen and I broke through the group and headed toward a hill.
Even more soldiers appeared, and I told Imogen to get to the top where Evendell could see her and protect her. Once she went down the other side, she’d be out of sight with a clear path toward the boat. I swung at whoever was closest to me, found my mark often enough, and dodged attempts to leave similar marks on me. When the crowd thinned to only a few, I broke through them to follow Imogen.
By then, she was nearly at the top of the hill. But instead of running down the other side, Imogen paused to look back at me. A soldier came out of nowhere and lunged for her, but her knife was faster and she left him clutching at his bleeding leg.
“King Jaron is down there!” a heavy man at the crest of the same hill yelled. “That’s him! Shoot him!” He pointed directly at me, then an archer nearby raised his bow and nocked an arrow. Where was Evendell, or Herbert, to fire at him first? I needed a place to hide, but the hillside was bare. I was in trouble.
Imogen must’ve heard the order too. The archer’s eye was on me, so he didn’t see her coming when she crashed into him. His arrow that had been intended for me flew far off course. Imogen picked herself up, but the heavier man grabbed her arm. She bit down on his flesh, and when he released her, she ran again.
I yelled as I ran up the hillside, hoping to draw their attention back to me, but their anger was focused on Imogen now. The archer drew another arrow and lined it up with her as she ran away along the spine of the hill. She turned back, just long enough to look for me again.
Despite the noise and confusion throughout the camp, a whoosh through the air became louder than all else. The archer’s arrow found its mark high in her chest. Still turned toward me, her face twisted with pain, and then she fell from the top of the hill. Her body rolled down the other side and out of my sight.
I continued running, certain that I could find her and save her again. Somehow.
But even as I ran, I heard a soldier call from the other side of the hill. “We’ve got the girl! She’s dead.”
And with those words, my entire world collapsed.
Whatever happened next was a blur. I didn’t take another step after hearing of Imogen’s death, and might’ve fallen to my knees. Either that, or a soldier in pursuit pushed me there.
I wasn’t sure how many men surrounded me next. Was it fifty or a hundred? It couldn’t possibly matter because I wasn’t fighting back. I had lost any sense of how to fight back, or why I should try.
Imogen wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be, because I had just spoken to her. Only moments ago she had run her fingers through my hair, and was very much alive. All I had to do was find her and then surely I would discover the wound wasn’t as bad as I had thought. We could still run from here, together.
Except that I had seen for myself where the arrow pierced her chest. Blood had poured from the wound — far too much of it and far too quickly. She could’ve been gone before her body touched the ground.
One of the soldiers hit me hard across the jaw, but kept me braced so that he could add to it and punch my left eye. I gave him no resistance as he continued to beat me, and in fact, I barely felt it. I couldn’t see how he thought any pain to my flesh mattered at all in comparison to the rending of my heart.
They eventually got me on the ground, wrenched my sword from my grasp, and tore off my jerkin. Two men immediately began fighting over the leather but were ordered to preserve it whole for the commander. I was carefully searched for any tricks I might’ve carried with me, then my hands and legs were chained together. Without care for the pinch in my shoulders, they rolled me onto my back, presumably so that I could see the commander who had captured me. Perhaps they didn’t realize that my left eye was already swelling shut, and that I had better things to look at with my right. I turned my head to avoid him and felt the sole of his boot on my cheek, pressing my face even farther to the side.