Xarion is gone.
I’m alone.
Pain flares behind my eyes. My vision blurs, but I struggle to my feet. I’m shedding tears. I can’t stop them. They trail my cheeks, tracking through my gritty, sand-covered face. I only wipe at them to clear my vision.
My mind races.
Searching the desert, I locate my sword, then sift my hands through the sand, looking for my flask. I want to run straight back to Alexandria without pau
se, but I have to force my brain to focus—to plan.
The reality of how far away I am from the city—from Xarion—crashes over me.
“No!” I fall to my knees and drive my fists into the desert. I hit the ground again. And again.
Phoenix is with him. This thought sobers me, and I crawl to where Xarion and I were last, near the stream, filling our flasks . . . before.
With trembling hands, I fill the copper vessel and tuck it inside my bag. I dig out and leave behind my blankets and anything else that will decrease my speed by even a fraction of a second. My fingers skim over the serpent necklace, my hand trembling. With a nod of conviction and a hard sniff, I fasten the golden asp around my neck.
Phoenix is with him.
I run.
As I pump my arms, dig my feet into the loose sand, I chant those words. Over and over. I have to believe that Phoenix will stop Candra from handing Xarion over to Octavian. That even if he fails—
I will make it to Xarion in time.
A cry tears from my throat as my feet trip over themselves in the soft sand. Frustrated, I emblaze my arms with crackling fury and direct a stream before my path. The sand hardens. Expending my full power, I keep a steady current of Charge flowing, and run.
My sandals hit the hard matter a moment after it transforms. I barrel on like this, a flash of white-blue ferocity, carving a glass route through the desert.
It feels as if fire is consuming every muscle in my body; in my legs, my back, my arms. In my heart.
My chest heaves, and I gasp as I bend over and void the last liquid contents of my previously-emptied stomach. I jerk out my flask and rinse my mouth.
Pulling myself up straight, I stare at the mouth of the tunnel, unsure if I should take it back to the Library or try another entrance into Alexandria.
I quickly go over my options, my panic starting to flare again. Every second I’m not moving is a second lost to Xarion. Holding my stomach, I pace, trying to clear him from my mind for just one moment so I can think logically.
Candra knew of our escape route because of Lunia. I grit my teeth, push the traitor from my thoughts. Candra will either have the secret access barricaded, where I’ll be trapped amid the catacombs, or she’ll have posted guardians near to capture me.
I shake my half-empty flask. It took us a full day to reach the oasis. If she’s barricaded the entrance, I’ll not only lose twelve hours, I’ll be out of water after I’m forced to backtrack. It’s too great a gamble.
But she’s surely got every gate into Alexandria guarded. And the walls watched. I’ll not cross into Alexandria without being spotted.
Turning my face up toward the failing light, I mutter a curse. I curse the gods. I curse Cleopatra. I curse everyone. Xarion has done nothing to deserve this fate. He’s but a piece on a game board in the middle of political tumult.
Either direction I choose, Candra knows I’m coming. She’s waiting. She’s too egomaniacal to have simply ended my life in the desert when she had the chance. That’s why she wanted me buried instead or giving an order to have me killed. She wants me to see her become an immortal one. She wants to look into my eyes and show me she’s won before she destroys me.
Her pride is my ally.
I take off toward the tunnel, prepared to blast my way through the barricaded hatch if I must.
I’ll make the task of capturing me easy for her minions. Just as long as I’m able to look into her cold, hard eyes before I end her.
Two days have passed since our party first dispersed from Alexandria. By the time I reach the underground entrance of the Library, it’s been a full day since I last touched Xarion.
It’s been too long.