Chapter 22: The Brink of Death

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The next afternoon, Izra led me away from the base blindfolded. We walked in silence for half an hour before I agreed to take the blindfold off. Even then, Izra avoided my eyes, gaze fastened to the path ahead and gait jerky. We tromped over brown grass, dried foliage, and packed dirt.

When we entered a patch of thick trees, Izra snapped to a halt. "We're close."

I halted beside her and sideglanced her. Her profile etched sharp lines and angles against the equally sharp backdrop of barren trees. A silky black curtain of hair fringed her dark eyes and soft olive skin. Goddess, such devastating beauty. Maybe I should have kissed her on that drunken night.

Maybe I would never get another chance.

I cleared my throat. "Alright. Guess it's time for you to turn back then."

Her eyes flicked toward me for a half-second before returning to the trees ahead. "We'll meet at the Mound of Truth in two hours." She spoke fast, voice tight. "You only have one hour, understand? If it takes any longer than that, I'll have to assume... I can't wait for you."

I furrowed my brow, more disconcerted by her choked voice than by her warning. "I know. It's alright."

Izra huffed a laugh explosive enough that the hair nearest her face fluttered, black strands almost silver in the sunlight. "It's not fucking alright, Epsa. I tried... I tried to... but no, you had to be the hero. Be the hero, or die trying, right?"

"Izra." Her name left me in a breathless crackle, and my hand swept toward hers, a delicate brush of just a few fingers. "I've served the wrong side my entire life. This is my chance to set things right."

Izra snatched her hand away and folded her arms over her chest. "Guess it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks then."

"What are you saying?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. You've made up your mind, so go."

For a few more seconds, I studied her in profile as she continued to refuse eye contact. Then I squared my shoulders and set my eyes ahead. "Fine. I'll see you in an hour."

With a deep breath, I resumed walking.

After a few minutes, the palace peeked through the dense woods, a stunning display of marble turrets and pillars, of gold-fringed windows and shimmering steps. How proud I had felt each time I saw this view through my childhood and even into recent years. Now bile bubbled up in my throat.

The closer I drew, the more guards appeared. I had never seen more than five guards at the entrance before, but now I counted twelve. My gaze snagged on Pamil, who joked with the others and jostled the arm of the female guard nearest him, as if he had no care in the world.

Anger flamed through me, rocking me back to my heels at the edge of the woods. But if I wanted to help, I needed to set these feelings aside. Separate.

I closed my eyes for a count of five. Then I trotted forward with a smile.

Pamil's gaze met mine, and his eyes widened. "Epsa! What a nice surprise."

I broadened my smile. "It's wonderful to see you again after all of this time hiding among heathens."

Pamil stepped away from the rest of the guards toward me and lowered his voice. "So... so you're not angry about..."

I let my smile fade as I released a sigh. "Of course not. Sad that it had to happen, but sometimes people are not who we think they are."

Pamil cracked a full smile, and relief deflated his shoulders. "I'm pleased you've grown to understand." Then he flashed a smile and swept a hand toward the gold-plated double-doors. "Let us bring you to the King."

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