Page 16

Alaysia

Alaysia’s silk dress whispered against the stone barrier as she hurried through the dimly lit passageways.

The jeweled necklace around her throat caught the light from scattered torches, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the rough-hewn walls.

Her heart nearly stopped, partly from the urgency of her mission and partly from anticipation of seeing Dernin again.

The secret alcove lay just ahead, tucked away behind a bend in the corridor. This small space had become her and Dernin’s special meeting place over the past several days.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered, tapping her fingers against the wall as she waited.

A familiar sound reached her ears—the smooth slide of scales against stone. Dernin emerged from the shadows. His face lit up when he saw her, and something in her chest tightened at his expression.

“You came,” she said, stepping forward.

“Of course.” His tail curled slightly, and his golden eyes seemed to drink her in. “Is everything all right?”

“We need to hurry. Marcella’s waiting in the kitchens.” She grabbed his hand without thinking and then froze at the contact. His skin was warm against hers, and she found herself not wanting to let go.

“Lead the way,” he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Alaysia pulled him along the corridor, taking the twisting route she’d learned that avoided the main thoroughfares. “Watch your head here,” she warned as they ducked under a low-hanging beam.

“You’ve learned this place well,” Dernin observed.

“Had to. Knowledge is survival.” She paused at an intersection, listening for footsteps. “Besides, being the ‘prize’ means I can go almost anywhere—as long as I look decorative enough doing it.” She touched the necklace with her free hand, her lip curling in distaste.

“You’d look just as beautiful without all that,” Dernin said and then seemed to catch himself.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she was glad the dim lighting would hide her blush. She tugged him forward again, trying to focus on their mission rather than how natural it felt to hold his hand.

The kitchen’s service entrance smelled of spiced meats and fresh bread, making Alaysia’s stomach growl despite her nerves. Marcella stood in the shadows, her eyes darting between them and the corridor.

“About time,” Marcella whispered, motioning them closer. “The vendors are making their evening deliveries now. Kira will be at the north exit in an hour.”

Alaysia’s fingers tightened around Dernin’s hand. “Show us this exit.”

“This way.” Marcella led them past stacks of wooden crates and barrels. “The guards change shifts soon. That’s our window.”

The kitchen bustled with activity, but most of the staff kept their heads down, focused on their work. Steam rose from massive pots, and the clatter of dishes provided cover for their whispered conversation.

“Here.” Marcella stopped at what looked like a storage closet. She pulled a lever disguised as a broken shelf, revealing a narrow passage. “This leads to a service tunnel. Follow it north until you reach a junction marked with red paint. Take the right path.”

Alaysia peered into the darkness. “You’re sure about this vendor?”

“Kira’s solid. She’s helped slaves for years.” Marcella reassured them.

“Thank you.” Alaysia said softly.

“Just remember our deal.” Marcella’s eyes flicked to Dernin. “When the warriors come, I go free, too.”

“You have my word,” Dernin said, his tail shifting restlessly.

“Okay, go,” Marcella urged. “One hour. Don’t be late.”

Alaysia stared at the dark passage. Everything hinged on getting this message out. She took a deep breath. “Ready?” she asked Dernin.

His eyes met hers, full of determination. “With you? Always.”

The secret passage enveloped them in darkness. Alaysia’s silk dress caught on a rough stone, and she yanked it free with a quiet curse. The air grew thick and musty, carrying the scent of old stone and decay.

The service tunnel that Marcella mentioned stretched ahead, barely wide enough for Dernin’s broad shoulders. Her footsteps seemed thunderous in the confined space.

“North,” Alaysia murmured to herself. Her free hand traced the wall, counting the intersections they passed. One. Two. Three...

The junction with red paint appeared ahead, a splash of crimson against the gray stone. Alaysia’s heart quickened. They were close.

“Right path,” Dernin confirmed.

They followed the tunnel as it curved upward. The air grew fresher, carrying hints of night air. A wooden door appeared, reinforced with iron bands.

Alaysia pressed her ear against it. Nothing. She eased it open, wincing at the slight creak of hinges.

The night air hit her face, sweet and cool compared to the underground stuffiness. They emerged into a narrow alley between two buildings, where crates of produce were stacked against the walls.

A figure detached itself from the shadows. “You’re the ones Marcella sent?”

Alaysia stepped forward, keeping her voice low. “We need to get a message to the Niri warriors.”

The woman—Kira—crossed her arms. She was short and sturdy, with callused hands and sharp eyes that missed nothing. Her gaze lingered on Dernin.

“One of their warriors is trapped in Fyret’s fighting ring,” Alaysia continued. “He needs to be freed. Will you help us?”

Kira shifted her weight, glancing over her shoulder down the darkened alley. “Getting close to the warriors? That’s risky business.” She rubbed her chin. “Even if I could find them, information like that doesn’t come cheap.”

Alaysia’s fingers went to the jeweled necklace at her throat. The gems felt cold against her skin, each one worth more than she’d ever held in her life. Fyret had forced her to wear it as a symbol of her status as his prize.

“Will this cover it?” She unclasped the necklace, the weight falling away from her throat.

Kira’s eyes widened at the glinting stones. “That’ll do nicely.” She snatched it from Alaysia’s outstretched hand, tucking it quickly into a hidden pocket. “I’ll get word as close to the warriors as I can. Best I can promise.”

“Thank you,” Alaysia said, resisting the urge to rub her now-bare neck. What would she tell Fyret when he noticed it was missing? She’d have to think of something—claim it broke, maybe, or that she lost it during one of her walks around the arena.

Kira melted into the shadows without another word, leaving Alaysia and Dernin alone in the alley. The night air felt colder now, raising goosebumps on her exposed skin.

“You shouldn’t have had to give that up,” Dernin said softly behind her.

“It was never mine to begin with.” Alaysia turned to face him, lifting her chin. “Besides, I’d rather be free than decorated like some prize horse.”

His golden eyes softened, and she felt warmth bloom in her chest despite the chill.

Alaysia turned toward the wooden door to head back, but then she paused. The night breeze kissed her bare neck where the necklace had rested moments before, carrying the scent of freedom—street food, distant ocean salt, and possibility.

“Dernin,” she whispered, her heart racing. “We’re outside.”

His eyes met hers, understanding dawning. “We could run.”

The city sprawled before them, a maze of shadowy streets and twinkling lights. Somewhere in that labyrinth lay real freedom. Her hands grabbed at her dress.

“The guards won’t check on us for at least an hour,” she said, calculations running through her mind. “We could disappear into the crowd at the night market.”

Dernin’s tail twitched restlessly. “The city gates will be guarded.”

“We could hide until—” She stopped, reality crashing back. “Until what? We have no money, no supplies.” Her hand dropped to her side. “And I just traded away our only valuables.”

“There’s nowhere close enough to reach before they notice we’re gone,” Dernin said softly. “And when they catch us...”

Alaysia shuddered. She’d seen what happened to slaves who tried to escape. “They’d separate us. And you would never get to finish the tournament.”

“Which means Bariv would win.” His jaw clenched. “You’d be his prize.”

The thought made her sick to her stomach. She looked longingly at the city one last time, memorizing the taste of temporary freedom.

“We have no choice but to wait,” she concluded, though it pained her. “The warriors will come. They have to.”

Dernin touched her shoulder gently. “They will. My people don’t abandon their own.”

Together they slipped back into the tunnel, leaving the tantalizing promise of freedom behind. The musty underground air felt heavier now, weighted with what-ifs and almost-maybes.

“At least we got the message out,” Alaysia whispered as they navigated the darkness. But her throat felt tight, and she blinked back frustrated tears. So close. They’d been so close.