“There’s a good night for this kind of thing?” Paris asked in disbelief.
“No,” said Xu. “But this night, there are a lot of things afoot. You’re lucky you caught me now. I was about to leave my post.”
“You’re here until dawn,” said Vai.
“That’s what’s in the schedule,” said Xu. She sighed. “Get on with talking to your friends who won’t talk to me because I’m the City Guard. I will spread the word.”
“Please,” Romeo yelled at the door, “you have to listen to me. The city is going to fall.”
No one answered. No one had, for the last few hours.
Once more, he struggled against the ropes tying him to the chair. But it was useless. They were too secure.
Romeo was going to die in this little room, and he wouldn’t even die because the Catresou executed him. He was going to die because they hadn’t listened, they had tied him up and locked him away to deal with later while they examined the dead bodies left in the Master Necromancer’s lair, and before they came back to deal with him the Ruining would kill them all.
Maybe he should have asked Paris to come. They might have listened to him.
But Romeo knew, as soon as he had the thought, that Meros would never have let anyone listen to Paris. He would have rather killed him a second time.
He would never have listened to Romeo, either. This had always been a fool’s errand.
Gavarin might have listened, but he hadn’t been there when Romeo had arrived back at the main Catresou safe house. Probably he was still locked away in disgrace somewhere, if he had been allowed to live at all.
Juliet, I’m sorry, he thought. Emera, I’m sorry.
They had both wanted him to save their people, and he had failed both of them.
The door opened. Romeo caught his breath, looking up with wild hope—
It was Ilurio.
For a moment they stared at each other in silence. Romeo couldn’t imagine that Ilurio had been sent there, which meant he was probably . . . here to mock him. Because Ilurio wasn’t a murderer, Romeo was sure of that; he hadn’t come here to kill him.
“They said you’d come back.” Ilurio looked down his nose.
“Yes,” said Romeo.
“They said you killed the Master Necromancer.”
And despite everything Romeo had learned, despite everything Makari had done, Romeo’s heart still clenched in grief.
“No,” he said. “Someone else did that. But I did choose to fight him. Because he was against zoura, and he was going to destroy us all. He tried to open the gates of death, and we managed to stop him, but he weakened the walls of the city. Very soon, nowhere outside the city spire will be safe. You have to get your people inside before that happens.”
Ilurio stared at him another moment. Then he darted forward and started tugging at the ropes.
“You . . . believe me?” Romeo said slowly.
“No!” Ilurio blurted out, before he looked away and muttered, “Yes. It doesn’t matter.”
“Why?”
“You saved my life,” Ilurio mumbled, the words so low that Romeo could barely make them out.
“I did?” said Romeo. He couldn’t remember anything like that on the raid, unless Ilurio was just thinking of when Romeo had dueled Juliet, but that hardly seemed—
“Weeks ago! Before you came to inflict yourself on us! I wouldn’t expect an ingrate like you to remember.” Ilurio gave the ropes another useless tug, made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat, then pulled out a knife. “Catresou pay their debts.”
He cut through the ropes quickly, then hauled Romeo out of the chair. “Come on. There’s a meeting going on now. They’re questioning Gavarin. They think he conspired with you.”
“Take me to them,” said Romeo.
Ilurio made a noise deep in his throat. “If you had any honor, you’d ask to be punished in his place,” he said, but there was worry in his eyes.
You don’t really want me dead, Romeo thought, but didn’t say it out loud.
Ilurio led him quickly through the corridors, back to the same room where Romeo had first been questioned by Meros. “In here,” he said, and turned away.
“Ilurio,” said Romeo, catching at his arm.
Ilurio looked back over his shoulder, his expression poisonous and reluctant.
“Thank you,” said Romeo, and meant it. “I am in your debt. And please, please get yourself and as many people as you can to the Upper City. There isn’t much time left.”
He saw Ilurio’s mouth tighten, and saw him nod once.
Then he turned and threw open the door.
It was like he remembered: the Catresou lords gathered together, Meros at the center. This time, the one who knelt before them under guard was Gavarin. His head was held high, his back straight, but his face was ragged with unshaven stubble, and there were shadows under his eyes.
Romeo knew this because Gavarin had turned to look at him, along with everyone else in the room.
“You have to listen to me,” he said.
“You,” Meros began.
“The Master Necromancer is dead. You can stay here and die in the ruins of his folly, or you can get your people to safety in the Upper City,” said Romeo. “There’s not much time left. Please, for the sake of your people, evacuate now.”
Meros scoffed. “You want us to walk through the gates of our enemies and give ourselves up? Better for us to die down here.”
“Half the Lower City is making their way through those gates already,” said Romeo, desperately hoping it was true. “Haven’t you looked out your windows?”
He saw uneasy glances exchanged between some of the Catresou lords, and felt a flicker of relief. Maybe they had seen the evacuation start. Maybe he could still convince them.
“You can lose yourselves in the crowd if you go now,” he said. “It’s a risk, but it’s the only way your people live.”
“I know I’m under sentence of death and all,” said Gavarin, “but I’d advise you to trust him. The boy’s a fool, but he’s not stupid.”
Meros’s face was pinched and white with anger. “I will not be given orders by the son of Lord Ineo.”
He won’t listen, thought Romeo with a wave of despair. But in the same moment, he realized something: nobody had seized him yet.
There were guards in the room. Some of the Catresou lords were not so old and weak. Yet none of them had laid a hand on him.
They were not all determined to destroy him yet. Some of them were listening.
“You’ll be advised by the husband of the Juliet, if you want to live,” said Romeo. “Anyone who wants to live—who wants his family to live—needs to follow me now.”
He turned and strode out of the room.
And after several heart-stopping moments, some of them followed him.
They brought Gavarin with them, and he fell into step beside Romeo. “You know the Juliet will kill you if she sees you.”
“Yes,” said Romeo. “She’ll kill you too.”
Gavarin chuckled. “Nobody should take up sword for the Catresou without being prepared to die for them.”
“I tried to die for you,” Romeo said bleakly, thinking, If only I had succeeded.
Gavarin’s hand dropped to his shoulder. “You haven’t done so badly, boy.”
The Ruining began with the dawn.
Probably.
Paris didn’t know exactly, because he was still with Vai, pounding on doors, telling people to leave, to grab what they could and start the trek toward the Upper City.
But he heard the screaming start. The wild, helpless screams of people who saw the white fog creeping through the alleyways and knew that the Ruining was here, it was happening, there was no more safety.
The streets were suddenly crowded then with people screaming, shouting, trying to escape.
He still didn’t see the Little Lady.
But when he saw a narrow tendril of white fog winding between the houses near them—Paris grabbed Vai by the shoulder and hauled her back around the corner.
“You have to get inside,” he said.
Vai shook her head. “There are still people to get out. And we still have to find the Little Lady. Didn’t you hear the Mahyanai girl?”