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Petrik’s eyes flit to the mountain’s base, where the real Kymora once stood.

I follow his gaze.

The warlord is gone.

Likely joined the fray.

When she reaches the top, there will be no stopping her victory. No one can beat her in swordplay.

“The mine,” Petrik reminds me. “Take Temra and go. We’ll cover your backs.”

I hesitate.

“Now!” Petrik orders as he flings his staff to take out another enemy.

My eyes reach Kellyn’s for the briefest moment.

I grab Temra’s hand, and together we run.

I’ve never approached the mine from this way. In fact, I’ve never approached the mine at all. I’ve seen it before, at least—the gaping hole in the mountain is visible from the southern edge of the city.

“Do you know what we’re doing?” I ask as we run and skid and slide our way across the mountain, veering for the base in a slanting arc.

“Yes, Petrik told me the plan.”

“And?”

“We’re not to the mine yet.”

I let out a growl of frustration. “How am I supposed to do something if I don’t know what it is? I swear, if this is some trick he’s concocted just to get you and me clear of the fight—”

“Then we’ll turn right back around and die with our friends.”

“Twins, Temra. Do you have to be so callous about death? Couldn’t you have saidfightwith our friends?”

“If this doesn’t work, the fighting will be brief.”

With that cheerful thought, we travel west along the mountain’s base, looking for the dark opening. I know it’s here somewhere.

There!

I pick up the pace, trying not to think about Kymora entering the fight, slaying the people I care about right and left.

There’s a torch on the ground just outside the mouth of the mine, next to flint and steel. I light the torch, then hoist it high before entering the darkened opening, Temra just behind me.

An empty track on the ground meant for mine carts weaves farther into the dark tunnel. Temra and I step on either side of it, following it deeper and deeper.

The place smells of earth, coal, dampness. And something else that I can’t place.

“How far into the mine are we going?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. We’ll know it when we see it.”

The walls are barren, all the iron ore having been mined closer to the surface. We follow the track even deeper.

I feel like a screw wound too tight. Like metal just before it reaches its boiling point.

“Temra, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” We’re too far from the fight to hear anything, but that only gives my imagination free rein to go wild. Imagine all the different ways people could be dying right now.