Page 51 of Last of Her Name

He glances at my scalpel. “With that?”

I shrug. “If it was Mara out there, if it was her life at risk, what would you do to save her?”

Dr. Luka smiles grimly. “For starters, I wouldn’t try to break out of a secure military base with a toothpick like that.” He sighs and shakes his head, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Instead, I’d confide in the people who were onmyside and always have been. The people who are sworn to serve me and not some suicidal vendetta.”

My eyes widen; I stay very still, wondering if I’m hearing him right.

Dr. Luka raises the gun and I flinch, but then he flips it over, extending the grip to me.

“And I’d arm myself properly,” he adds.

I slowly take the gun from him, my eyes locked on his.

“You’re right about Zhar,” he says. “She’s lost her way. Many of us here see it, but just as many share her anger, her need for vengeance. Volkov destroyed our lives and killed our loved ones, after all. But, Princess, I was there the day you were born. I delivered you myself, and when your tiny lungs failed to inhale, I breathed air into you and brought you back. You are like another daughter to me, a child I was supposed to watch grow up and become strong like her brother and sisters. I loved your family, Anya. And I won’t see you become a pawn in Zhar’s game.”

I shake my head. “Doc … I … what do I do?”

“You go and get your tensor and give him that antidote,” Dr. Luka says. He heaves a weary groan. “I’d rather do this slowly, laying careful plans and covering all contingencies, but I can see you’re not going to wait. And to be honest, I’m not sure the tensor can hold out much longer. I can only do so much for him before the poison wins out.”

“So you’re helping me?”

“Like I said, I’m sworn to serve the Leonov line, and if this is what you must do, then I have no choice but to help you. Besides, you’re just going to get yourself hurt or killed, running around with a blazing scalpel.” He ducks through the door and glances down the hall. “It’s clear. Go quickly, and meet me in the hangar. I can get us off the base, but I have to take care of a few things first, and find Mara. That’s my only condition—if we’re doing this, she’s coming with us.”

“Of course. Thank you,” I breathe. Relief and excitement ignite a rush of adrenaline in my veins. Before, I’d been filled with dread, knowing my poorly conceived plan would almost certainly end in disaster. But now I have hope.

More than that, I have anally.

There’s one soldier on guard in the cells, the pale Opallan I saw in the hangar a few days ago. He’s holding Riyan’s staff, using it as a prop to lean on while he drowses in the dim night-cycle lighting. His pearly complexion and white hair make him seem almost luminescent. I vaguely recall that the Opallans live underground, which is why they have so little pigment in their skin. It makes him a bright target, even in the dark.

I set my gun to nonlethal, but even so, when I raise it my palms go clammy.

A hiss, a flash of Prismic energy, and the guard drops with a thump. The staff clatters and rolls away.

I smile a little, thinking Pol would have been proud of the shot.

Then emergency lights flood the corridor with red light. An alarm begins screaming overhead, a long, whooping screech that strikes with almost physical force.

I spot the tiny camera mounted above the guard’s station. Stupid! I should have checked for eyes before dropping him, but it’s too late now.

So much for doing this quietly. Dr. Luka will not be very pleased.

I sprint down the corridor and smash the lockpad with the heel of the gun. It throws sparks, crackling as the bolts disengage and the door swings open.

“Riyan!”

He is so deep in his trance that he doesn’t even flinch. I can barely think over the blaring alarms. With a growl, I turn and shoot the speaker in the ceiling. Sparks rain around us, but at least the noise lessens.

I take the vial of antidote from my neck and pop the lid, trying to wake Riyan by slapping his arm. When that fails, I pry apart his lips and shove the vial between his teeth, but he won’t loosen his jaw. I can hear boots pounding down the corridor, closing in on the cell.

“Stars curse you, I’m trying to save your life! Wake up!”

I stand behind him, one hand cupped under his chin to tilt back his head. His jaw is like a vise, but I finally manage to tip the vial between his teeth.

“Princess! Stop!”

White-coated soldiers fill the corridor, crouched behind their guns. My hand jerks, and half the antidote spills onto the floor.

“Back away from the witch!” shouts one of the soldiers. It’s the eeda pilot from yesterday, the one Mara said wet his pants in the sims. He doesn’t look so frightened now. He looks on the verge of blowing my head off.