Keenan grimaces. “Laia,” he says. “It might be too late for that. There is nothing stopping her from walking in and taking custody of him.” He lowers his voice. “Perhaps we should focus on Darin.”
“I will not leave Elias to die at her hands,” I say. “Not when I’m the only reason he’s in Kauf in the first place.”
“Forgive me,” Keenan says, “but the poison will take Elias soon, in any case.”
“So you’d leave him to torture and public execution?” I know Keenan has never liked Elias, but I did not think the animosity ran this deep.
The lamplight flickers, and Keenan runs a hand through his hair, brow furrowed. He kicks a few damp leaves out of the way and gestures for me to sit.
“We can get him out too,” I argue. “We just have to move fast and find a way in. I don’t think Aquilla can just walk in and take him out. She would have already done it if that were the case. She wouldn’t have bothered to talk to us.”
I roll out Elias’s map—dirt-stained and faded now. “This cave.” I point to a spot Elias marked on the map. “It’s north of the prison, but perhaps we could get inside—”
“We’d need firepowder for that,” Keenan says. “We have none.”
Fair enough. I point to another path marked on the north side of the prison, but Keenan shakes his head. “That route is blocked, according to the information I have, which is from six months ago. Elias was last here six years ago.”
We stare at the parchment, and I point to the west side of the prison, where Elias marked a path. “What about this? There are sewers here. And it’s exposed, yes, but if I could make myself invisible, like I did during the raid—”
Keenan looks at me sharply. “Have you been working at that again? When you should have been resting?” When I don’t answer, he groans. “Skies, Laia, we need all of our wits to pull this off. You’re exhausting yourself trying to harness something you don’t understand—something unreliable—”
“Sorry,” I mumble. If all my practice actually amounted to something, then perhaps I could argue that the risk of exhaustion was worth it. And yes, a few times, while Keenan was on watch or off scouting, I felt like I almost grasped that strange, tingling feeling that meant no one could see me. But as soon as I’d open my eyes and look down, I’d see that I’d failed again.
We eat in silence, and when we’re done, Keenan stands. I scramble to my feet.
“I’m going to go scout the prison,” he says. “I’ll be gone for a few hours. Let me see what I can come up with.”
“I’ll go with—”
“Easier for me to scout alone, Laia,” he says. At the irritated look on my face, he takes my hand and draws me close.
“Trust me,” he says against my hair. His warmth eases away the cold that seems to have taken up residence in my bones. “It’ll be better this way. And don’t worry.” He pulls away, his dark eyes searing. “I’ll find us a way in. I promise. Try to rest while I’m gone. We’ll need all our strength in the next few days.”
After he leaves, I organize our limited belongings, sharpen all of my weapons, and practice the little that Keenan had a chance to teach me. The desire to try again to discover my power pulls at me. But Keenan’s warning echoes in my head. Unreliable.
As I unfurl my bedroll, the hilt of one of Elias’s scims catches my eye. I gingerly pull the weapons from their hiding spot. As I examine the scims, a chill runs through me. So many souls sundered from the earth at the edges of these blades—some on my behalf.
It’s eerie to think of it, and yet I find the scims offer a strange sort of comfort. They feel like Elias. Perhaps because I am so used to seeing them poking up behind his head in that familiar V. How long since I saw him reaching back for those scims at the first hint of a threat? How long since I heard his baritone urging me on or drawing a laugh from me? Only six weeks. But it feels like much longer.
I miss him. When I think of what will happen to him at Helene’s hands, my blood boils in rage. If I were the one dying of Nightweed poisoning, the one chained in a prison, the one facing torture and death, Elias would not acquiesce. He would find a way to save me.
The scims go back into their scabbards, the scabbards back into their hiding place. I drop into my bedroll with no intention of sleeping. One more time, I think to myself. If it doesn’t work, I’ll leave it, like Keenan asked. But I owe Elias at least this.
As I close my eyes and try to forget myself, I think about Izzi. About how she would blend into the Commandant’s house like a chameleon, unseen, unheard. She was soft-footed and soft-spoken and she heard and saw everything. Perhaps this is not just about a state of mind but about my body. About finding the quiet version of myself. The Izzi-like version of myself.
Disappear. Smoke into cold air and Izzi with her hair in front of her eyes and a Mask moving stealthily through the night. Quiet mind, quiet body. I keep each word distinct, even when my mind begins to tire.
And then I feel it, a tingling, first at the tip of my finger. Inhale. Exhale. Don’t let it go. The tingling spreads to my arms, my torso, my legs, my head.
I open my eyes, look down and nearly whoop for joy. Because it’s worked. I’ve done it. I’ve disappeared.
When Keenan returns to the cave hours later, a bundle tucked under his arm, I jump to my feet and he sighs. “No rest then, I assume,” he says. “I have good news and bad.”
“Bad first.”
“I knew you’d say that.” He sets his bundle down and begins to unwrap it. “Bad news: The Commandant has arrived. Kauf’s auxes have started digging graves. From what I heard, not a single Scholar prisoner will be spared.”
My elation at being able to disappear evaporates. “Skies,” I say. “All of those people …” We should try to save them. It’s such a mad idea that I know better than to speak it aloud to Keenan.
“They’ll begin tomorrow evening,” he says. “At sundown.”
“Darin—”
“Is going to be fine. Because we’re going to get him out before then. I know a way in. And I stole these.” He lifts a pile of black cloth from the bundle. Kauf uniforms.
“Burgled them from a storage outbuilding. We won’t fool anyone up close,” he says. “But if we can keep far enough away from prying eyes, we can use them to get in.”
“How will we know where Darin is?” I ask. “The prison is enormous. And once we’re inside, how will we move around?”
He pulls another pile of cloth from the bundle. This one dingier. I hear the clink of slaves’ cuffs. “We change,” he says.
“My face is all over the Empire,” I say. “What if I’m recognized? Or what if—”
“Laia,” Keenan says patiently. “You have to trust me.”
“Maybe …” I hesitate, wondering if he’ll be upset. Don’t be stupid, Laia. “Maybe we won’t need the uniforms. I know you said not to, but I tried the disappearing again. And I’ve got it.” I pause for his reaction, but he only waits for me to go on. “I figured it out,” I clarify. “I can disappear. I can hold it.”
“Show me.”
I frown, having expected … something from him. Perhaps anger or excitement. But then, he hasn’t seen what I can do—he’s only seen my failure. I close my eyes and keep my inner voice clear and calm.
But yet again, I fail.
Ten minutes after I begin, I open my eyes. Keenan, waiting calmly, simply shrugs.
“I don’t doubt that it works some of the time.” The kindness in his voice only frustrates me. “But it’s not reliable. We can’t stake Darin’s life on it. Once Darin is free, toy with it all you want. For now, leave it alone.”
“But—”
“Think about the past few weeks.” Keenan fidgets but doesn’t pull his gaze away. Whatever he’s about to say, he’s steeled himself for it. “If we’d broken away from Elias and Izzi, like I’d suggested, Elias’s Tribe would have been safe. And just before the raid on Afya’s camp—it’s not that I didn’t want to help the Scholars. I did. But we should have thought about what would happen as a result. We didn’t, and Izzi died.”