“Well, what are you standing there for?” she screams. “Run!”

I don’t have the heart to tell her there’s nowhere for me to run. There must be something about the desperation in her voice that rekindles my will to live because the haze in my brain starts to dissipate. Panic—the useful kind—overtakes my limbs.

The scorpion is backing away, though it looks as if it’s only doing so to get a running start at launching itself at Zora.

I use the opportunity to sidle up against the wall and sneak around to its backside. I clamber onto its back, trying to time my ascent with the moments Zora’s rocks collide with the scorpion’s head. So far it’s working; the scorpion doesn’t thrash its tail.

The climb is arduous, and I have to will myself to focus to keep my fingers from going limp. Halfway up, Zora screams a warning at me, and I have just enough time to latch myself around the tail before the scorpion attempts to fling me. My side crashes against the pit wall, but I don’t fall. Zora, the scorpion, and I continue on like this—scream, thrash, cling—for a few rounds before I find myself at the tip of its tail.

The scorpion must have inched closer to Zora’s side of the pit, because rather than cresting the edge of the pit like it was before, there’s several feet of air between the tip and the edge.

All I can think is that I’m glad the scorpion venom dulled the aching in my leg.

I am not accustomed to my mind working this slowly, and I am not at all hoping to repeat this experience.

I take in a deep breath, fighting the fuzz that seems to block each thought.

“Nox, you need to jump,” Zora screams. As if I don’t already know that.

Then again, I was about to embrace death when she got here, so maybe the condescension is warranted.

I brace my limbs, preparing them to launch, but they’re trembling from the combined venom and climb. I’m unsure if I can keep my balance, much less make the jump.

I’m also pretty sure if I fall this time, I’m not getting back up.

So when the scorpion rears back, readying to swing its tail at Zora, I take advantage of the momentum and jump.

CHAPTER 32

ELLIE

It’s minutes before anyone thinks to check.

Minutes are too long.

Lydia’s gone after Piper. Elias departed soon after, intending to gather acquaintances from the Coup to assist her should Abra have an army guarding Piper. That leaves me to get Asha and Blaise, so we can get Marcus to the Rip as soon as possible.

“Blaise,” I call, wishing there were a way to knock on the tent door, but of course it’s made of pliant fabric, so I settle for the nearest posts.

No one answers.

“Blaise, Asha should have come by earlier. We’re about to set out. I assume Asha told you, but we’re going to head to the Rip. Apparently, Amity thinks there’s a type of flax there that can heal Marcus. Lydia and Elias have already gotten a head start on Piper.”

Nothing.

I don’t like the idea of barging in on anyone, but we have to leave if we want to catch up to the others once we get what Marcus needs from the Rip.

I touch the knot on the tent door.

I know instantly something is wrong. For starters, the knot is tied. Blaise isn’t exactly the modest sort. She doesn’t care enough about whether her tent flap blows open and exposes her in her sleepwear to bother securing it in place, which is unfortunate for anyone who does mind.

But here the knot is, secured in place, though not neatly.

I untie it. The rope scratches my fingers, and can’t help but notice the string is damp.

As the tent flap falls aside, I realize it isn’t the only thing that’s wet.

Blood glistens in pools inside the tent, shimmering in the lantern light. Across the tent is a tapestry, one that has been knocked over, as if in haste. Blood seeps from the floor into the fabric, obscuring parts of the story woven into it.

“Evander,” I call, but my voice only rasps. I steel myself, urgency flowing back into me. “Evander!”

He’s there in an instant, and when I turn to face him, there’s nothing but dread in his wide eyes.

“She’s just signed her own death warrant.” Evander paces back and forth in the tent, trying his best to keep from stepping in the pool of blood.

Blood.

Asha’s blood.

Is Asha dead? Did Blaise let herself get too hungry? I’ve never seen Blaise lose control before. But hadn’t she almost attacked Asha the night they took a stroll through the gardens in Othian? I thought Blaise stayed on top of hunting, but if she snapped…or perhaps Asha accidentally cut herself on something.

“El. El.”

I redirect my attention to Evander, but even the smell of blood is making my stomach churn.

“We have to find them.”

Dread coils in my stomach. “Them? You think Asha’s still alive?”

Evander stares at the blood pooling at our feet.

He doesn’t have to answer.

“Kiran’s going to kill Blaise. That’s what you meant earlier when you said she’d signed her own death warrant,” I whisper to Evander, my back pressed against his firm chest as we ride on horseback across the Charshonian plains.

Amity and Marcus ride beside us, Amity holding the rope leading my horse. Evander has wanted me as close to him as possible, now that we know Blaise lost control. When he suggested it, I almost argued that Blaise would likely be satiated by the time we got to her, but the thought sent bile to my throat.

I vomited in the grass, and that had reminded me of Asha too.

Asha is my friend. She was my companion in Othian while we’d waited for Kiran and Evander to return. She shared in the secret of my pregnancy. She waited outside of Forcier’s before sunrise just to retrieve my father’s favorite bread.

I know I should feel more loss than I do, but it’s like my mind refuses to process that she’s gone.

But with all that blood…

“She’ll have to be on the run after this,” Evander says, his voice distant, his arm wrapped protectively around me as we ride.

“You think Kiran would hunt her?”