My eyes seized on the cellar door, and I remembered that dingy window, up high. If we barricaded the door behind us, it might buy us more time.
As I wrenched open the door, a damp, earthy smell rose up from the cellar. I pushed Daria down the set of flagstone steps set in sod. Something blurry ran past me, bumping my arm. I tightened my fingers on my pistol, until I realized it was Kenté, half-wreathed in shadows. Fee joined us, her knife dripping blood.
Booted footsteps echoed on the floor of the hall behind us. Dropping to my knees, I aimed my pistol at the door.
Markos skidded into view, almost toppling me. “Oof!”
As I recovered my balance, he shut the door and let the bar slam down, locking it. We clattered down the short staircase.
“It’s a dead end!” There was panic in Kenté’s voice.
I nodded toward the back of the cellar. “Look.”
A yellowed rectangular window, coated in spiderwebs, spread lengthwise along the ceiling. Nimbly Fee leaped to the top of a rickety pile of boxes. She rattled the window and then, finding the latch stuck, broke the glass with the blunt end of her knife.
She wriggled through. “Safe,” she croaked from the other side.
Someone banged on the door.
“Daria first,” I gasped. Markos lifted his sister into Fee’s waiting hands. Her stocking feet disappeared through the window.
“Come on.” He beckoned Kenté over. Stowing her dagger, she allowed him to boost her up. “Caro, you next.”
“No, you.” I glanced over my shoulder. The pirates were hacking at the door from the other side. “You’re the Emparch.”
The door buckled. I heard the Black Dogs cursing, followed by a gunshot. The shouting stopped.
“Markos, come on!”
He exhaled, tension releasing from his shoulders, as if all the fight had left him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “No.”
I realized what he meant to do.
“But you’re the heir to Akhaia.” I refused to let him sacrifice himself. “You’re more important than your sister.”
His eyes flashed with intense emotion. “You still don’t understand. Nothing is more important.”
“We can all go,” I insisted. “If we go now. Fee and I will pull you up.”
“If I stall them, the rest of you will have a chance.” His trembling hands hovered over the hilts of his swords. “Get to the boat. Take her to Valonikos. To the house we spoke of.”
“Markos—”
“The name. Quickly, tell me the name again.”
“Tychon Hypatos.” My lips were half-numb. “Iphis Street. But—”
“You made a promise,” he said.
“This isn’t what I meant!”
“You think they’ll ever stop searching for me?” He looked fierce. “You have no hope of making it to Valonikos, Caro. None. Not if I’m with you.” I reached for his sleeve, but he flinched away. “I’m the one they want. Those two people on the wherry already died for me. I suppose you thought I didn’t regret it, but I do. I can’t imagine if—”
“Markos—”
“Stop. Arguing. For once in your life, stop.” His voice shook, and I knew he was afraid.
Time slid to a halt as we looked at each other. A million thoughts reeled through my mind. One of them had to be the right one. The one that would stop him from doing this.
“Oh, hell.” He strode toward me as the door groaned on its hinges. “I’m going to die anyway.”
He hauled my face close. I twisted my fingers into his hair and slammed his mouth down on mine.
It was a kiss that raged like battle, exhilarating and immediate. His lips tasted of salt. My racing heartbeat throbbed in my ears. I wanted more of him. I grabbed the front of his shirt in my fist, to pull him closer—pull him with me.
He broke the kiss and staggered back. I felt the absence of him on my lips, a coldness that threatened to burrow deep inside me.
“Wait.” I found my voice. “Markos, wait—”
The door burst into splinters. He drew his two swords. “Go! Get out of here.”
Hoisting myself onto the window ledge, I could not help looking back.
“Don’t,” he said without turning. And then they came rushing at him with swords and fists.
I didn’t want to see.
With a ragged breath, I turned away and let Fee pull me through the window. Tears blurred my eyes. You don’t leave behind a member of your crew. Any sailor knows that. You just don’t.
I straightened, stashing my pistols. The others stood in the cobblestoned alley, watching me expectantly. The blue of early evening was upon us.
“Where’s my brother?” Daria’s voice was shrill.
I grabbed her hand. “Your brother,” I growled over the ache in my throat, dragging her down the alley, “once told me he would do anything to save you.”
“Where are you going?” She tried to pull away. “We have to wait for Markos,” she screamed. “Let go!”
“He’s not coming.” I rubbed my eyes with my sleeve. “Hush! Markos said if I tell you to run, you run. Well, I’m telling you now.”
We raced under the shadows of the eaves, ducking around puddles of refuse and piles of rank fish bones. Bumping into a lamplighter carrying a long pole, I stumbled. He cursed after me, but I could not stop. Above us lights winked on in the hillside houses. Somewhere people were sitting down to supper, while I struggled to breathe around the pain in my chest.
Markos was an excellent swordsman. Perhaps …
I shoved the thought away. The Black Dogs had outnumbered him. There were too many of them. I knew it. Markos had known it.
The alley ended. I glanced frantically left and right.
“Which way?” gasped Kenté.
A group of seagulls scattered into the air, squawking. Their cries drew my eyes to the right, where I caught sight of the masts far below us.
“There!”
We clattered down a stone staircase set into the hill. Glimpsing the harbor, I almost wept in relief. I heard no commotion behind us. No gunshots. As we raced down the dock, Daria tripped, but I pulled her up. Her pale face was stained with tears. Markos may have given us just enough time.
I halted.
Five men stood on the dock between us and Cormorant. Three of them held blades and one had dual pistols stuck in his belt. The fifth was the pirate Philemon. Alektor had arrived.
We were cut off.
A week ago, if you asked me, “Would you die for Cormorant?” I might have said yes. It was what happened in all the stories. A captain went down with her ship. But now I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think about it for a second.
Markos had traded his life for ours. I knew what my sacrifice had to be.
I turned my back on Cormorant.
“Leave her,” I said.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
There is a reckless freedom in leaving behind everything you know. As I ran down the dock, tugging Daria behind me, it thrilled in my veins.
Markos was gone. Cormorant was gone. But I was alive. I was an Oresteia and I was bold. My brain sharpened and my blood surged.
I knew what to do.
A cutter does not carry a large crew. Only one man was left to stand guard near Victorianos. He sat on a dock post, boots dangling. His musket leaned against a stack of barrels, too far away to be of any use to him.
He didn’t even see us coming.