Thump.
She hadn’t thrown it hard enough, and it landed short of the chopsticks. We both froze at the loud noise it made, but five seconds passed, then ten, then fifteen, and no footsteps sounded. Katia either hadn’t heard the noise or wasn’t worried enough to leave her traps and come investigate it.
“Again,” I said. “Again.”
Deah yanked the sneaker back and tried again.
Thump.
This time, the sneaker bridged the distance but landed too far to the right of the chopsticks for Deah to snag them.
“Again!” I hissed. “Quick!”
“Be quiet!” she snapped back. “You’re ruining my concentration!”
I really wanted to snap at her again, but I forced myself to grind my teeth together and keep quiet.
Eyes narrowed, Deah looked at the chopsticks lying on the floor—really looked at them, the same way I would have with my sight magic. She hefted the sneaker in her hand, judging its weight and the distance. Then she let it fly.
Thump.
The sneaker landed just beyond the chopsticks. Deah and I both sucked in breaths, and she pulled the sneaker toward her, one slow, careful inch at a time. The shoe bounced across the floor and Deah stopped. She fiddled with the laces for a few seconds and managed to flip the sneaker right side up. Then, she slowly drew it toward her again.
The sneaker bumped up against the edge of the chopsticks—and sent them rolling straight toward Deah.
She snatched them up the second they were in range, turned, and handed them over to me. “Here. Work your magic, Merriweather.”
I grinned. “All you had to do was ask.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning back at me.
I twisted open the chopsticks, revealing the lock picks hidden inside. I gestured at Deah, and she stepped forward and held out her wrist. I inserted the picks into the padlock.
“Come on, baby,” I crooned. “Open sesame.”
A few seconds later, the lock snapped open, and I slid it through the shackle and stuffed it into one of my pockets. Deah unhooked the shackle from around her wrist and carefully lowered it and the attached chain to the floor, making as little noise as possible.
The second she was free, she went over to the table, grabbed our swords, and hurried back with them. She strapped on her own weapon, and I did the same, both of us moving as quickly and quietly as we could.
“Now what?” Deah whispered. “Do we storm outside and try to take her by surprise?”
“First things first.” I passed the picks over to Deah. “Here. Open my lock.”
“What? Why can’t you do it?” she asked.
I held up my shackled hand. “Because the angle’s all wrong, and I can’t pick it one-handed. So you’re going to have to do it for me. Have you ever picked a lock before?”
She shook her head, making her blond ponytail slap back and forth.
“Then good thing for you and me, it’s not that hard.”
Deah took the lock picks from me, bent over my shackle, and got to work. I tried to talk her through it, but the picks kept slipping out of the padlock, and she just wasn’t getting the hang of it.
“It’s no use,” she growled. “I can’t do it.”
“You have to, or we’re both dead.”
Deah sighed and went back to work with the lock picks, but she gave up a minute later, when the picks slipped out of the lock again. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it. You stay here. I’ll go get help.”
“And I’ll be dead by the time you get back with it.”
“But I can’t do it. I don’t know how, and like you said, I don’t have any strength magic that would let me break the shackle.”
I tilted my head to the side, thinking about her words—and the magic that she did have. “What about your mimic power?”
She frowned. “What about it?”
“Well, you can do more than just fight with it, right? I mean, you can mimic the way someone moves, walks, talks, everything.”
“Yeah, so what?” Deah asked.
“Then you could mimic me picking a lock, right?”
“I suppose so,” she said in a doubtful voice. “I’ve never tried to do anything like that with my power before, though.”
“Well, it’s always good to learn new things,” I snarked. “Now watch me and do exactly what I do.”