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Westvane snorted in amusement.

Truly scowled. “Am I allowed to kill him?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Later?” she asked, hope in the question.

Westvane’s lips twitched. “I’ll think about it.”

Unfazed by the threat, Montrose chuckled.

Glaring at the gargoyle, Truly started toward the stairs. He outpaced her, taking the lead, jogging between boulders and around jut-outs, picking his way across the cave. The tap of footfalls echoed under the crooked dome, making an already tense group tenser. So much for fleet of foot. The noise announced their presence, decimating the element of surprise.

An advantage he would’ve liked to keep until he knew what kind of creature lay in wait along the path.

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused to look up. A steep climb. A narrow entrance between rock walls at the top. Enough space to walk through single file. Disadvantage stacked on top of another stumbling block. The structure left little room to maneuver. And without his sword and shield? He risked walking into a battle unarmed.

Westvane smelled the danger. He sensed it seething on the other side the opening. Lying in wait for him. And yet, he didn’t hesitate. Shifting into high gear, he ignored the weakness plaguing him and took the stairs three at a time.

Surprised by his sudden move, Truly hissed, “Westvane!”

He didn’t bother to turn around. Or look behind him. He needed to reach the doorway first. She was a Door Master. He was her shield, the one who would ensure she stayed in one piece — no matter the threat. But as he reached the halfway point, sprinting toward danger to keep her safe, he wondered for the first time whether he was strong enough.

Strong enough to meet the challenge.

Strong enough to snap Weeping Hollow’s spell.

Strong enough to defeat the next monster. Or if whatever lay beyond the breach would finally be the death of him.

38

TOTALLY GONZO

Ramping into a run, Westvane took the stairs four at a time.

Gaze glued to his back, Truly frowned. “What does he think he’s doing?”

Right behind her, Montrose grunted. “His job.”

“He’s crazy.” Hopscotching over rocks, she leapt to the bottom tread and started up the steep rise. Damp air sawed in and out of her lungs. The violent staccato of her feet on stone echoed as she raced after the maniac leaving her behind. “Totally gonzo.”

“Assenta warriors usually are,” Montrose muttered, keeping pace behind her.

“You’re one to talk.” She cursed as she lost sight of the lunatic in question. Gritting her teeth, she kept going, but… utterly hopeless. She’d never catch up. Mere hours after suffering a terrible injury, and Westvane still managed to outrun her. “Rosy —”

“Forget about it.”

“You have to go after him.”

“No.”

“He’s not okay, Rosy. He needs help.”

Montrose shook his head. “I stay with you.”

Heart hammering the inside of her chest, Truly glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’ll sidestep. Get out of your way. Just —”

“What do you think he’ll do to me if anything happens to you?”