Page 16 of A Monarch's Fall

A moment of near quiet felt almost silent, as if the chaos of noise lay in the distance, muffled chatter in some other part of the house.

Dylan kept running. Faster now.

“Harris,” he called.

“A little birdie told us you need backup,” Harris said as we neared the top of the hill.

“Could have done with your assistance sooner,” Dylan complained.

“It took time to get here,” the woman beside Harris said, annoyed. “You were meant to get in and out quietly,” she continued, chastising.

When we reached the peak of the hill, Dylan didn’t stop to rest.

“This way,” Harris said, walking in front of us, “The vehicle is close, we found an old farm road, one mile southeast,” he explained.

“Percy?” the woman asked, the concern in her voice echoing, like I’d heard it many times before.

I tried to look at her, lifting my head from Dylan’s shoulder, my vision blurred momentarily, before her features came into focus in the darkness.

“Ana?” I asked.

“It’s me,” she replied.

“What happened to your hair?” I questioned. It was short. Very short.

“I got it cut,” she replied, and I watched as she self-consciously lifted a hand to her hair. “Long hair was getting in the way,” she continued in explanation.

“In the way of what?” I asked. What was going on? “Why are you here?”

She looked almost identical to Harris and Dylan, the same military-like uniform, cargos, and a matching thick green jumper. It was too cold for such clothing; still, I saw her short fringe stuck to her forehead, as if she had been sweating heavily.

“I’m here for you,” she answered. “I wasn’t about to leave my best friend.”

I smiled.

Of course, I could count on Ana. She was always there for me. Present at every rescue.

My best friend.

But why was she here? How did she get here?

“I thought you were at the Academy?” I asked.

“I left the same day as you,” she told me.

Chapter five

Who Needs Enemies.

Ana Syngeneia

Percy was speaking slightly slurred. Dylan held her in his arms. I looked at Harris and smiled at the sight of him. Being separated from him for so many months was unbearable. I was surprised when he showed up four days ago in the middle of the night to whisk me away, in his words. Of course, being whisked away according to Harris would mean a half-day ferry to House Halvorsen and joining the largest witch rebellion in history.

The heavy breathing of Dylan distracted me from Harris, and I glanced back to Percy. She was injured. I couldn’t tell how badly, but she clearly couldn’t walk, not if she was allowing Dylan to carry her. Percy would never otherwise. Not just because she was dangerously stubborn, but because she knows that Selene would probably kill him.

We needed to get her back to the bus. I hurried ahead of Dylan to Harris’ side.

“How far are we from the safehouse?” I asked him quietly, paranoid of eavesdropping. Even out here, in the middle of the night on the side of a mountain, with only the four of us for at least a mile, I couldn’t be sure who was listening in. Not now. Everything was changing.