“Don’t look at him!” Jordan pushed her toward the stairs now just ahead of them. “Get up those steps.”
A whoosh like a breath of wind went through the tunnel, and she knew the burning Nebrov had ignited the trail of gunpowder in the main tunnel. Another hideous scream and Nebrov was lost to view in a sea of flames.
“God!” Jordan was trying to beat out the flames that leaped from the tunnel floor and reached the skirt of her gown.
“Stop it! You’ll burn your hands.”
Jordan continued to beat at the flames with one hand while he pushed her the final few steps to the surface. “Did you have to seed the entire tunnel? Wasn’t the ammunition room enough?”
She pulled herself onto the floor of the chapel. “I had to be certain.”
Jordan slammed down the stone door. “And nearly got yourself burned to death.”
Her breath was coming in harsh gasps. “Had to be-”
“Certain,” Jordan finished. “How close is the powder room to this palace? Are we all going to be blown to bits?”
She shook her head. “It’s halfway down the hill. Your hands… let me see your hands.”
He ignored her. “It seemed closer.”
“I don’t think-”
An explosion rocked the palace!
Jordan grabbed her and rolled with her until they hit a wall. She lay there watching as a long, jagged crack snaked across the marble floor and explosion after explosion followed one another.
She heard crashes and screams of panic from the hall, but no one ventured into the chapel.
At last the explosions stopped, but the chapel was filling with thick black smoke, curling up from below through the cracks in the floor.
“We have to get out of here,” she whispered. “All the tunnels below the palace will be on fire by now.”
“Is there another way out of here?”
She shook her head. “We’ll have to go out through the palace.”
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I doubt if anyone will try to stop us. From those screams I’d say Nebrov’s men are concerned only with saving themselves.” He propelled her down the aisle toward the door. As she stepped over the gaping crack in the marble, she could see the glimmer of flames below like a glimpse into the bowels of hell. Nebrov was down in that inferno, and she had condemned him to a horrible death.
She was in a holy place and should not feel this deep sense of satisfaction.
“It’s done, Mama,” she whispered.
“Come on.” Jordan threw open the door. The corridor was empty as he had predicted and filled with clouds of black smoke. Her eyes were stinging by the time they reached the foyer, and she could barely discern the crystal chandelier that lay shattered on the floor.
Then they were outside, and clean, cold air was in her lungs. There was smoke here also, and half the hill seemed to be in flames. The courtyard was in chaos, with panicked horses and soldiers running about shouting shrilly.
“There you are,” Gregor said, relieved, as he appeared suddenly beside them. “I was about to dash in and rescue you. It is kind of you to save me the trouble. Nebrov?”
“Dead.” Jordan’s arm tightened around Marianna’s waist as they dashed across the courtyard. “Let’s get out of here. The fire is going to break through the floor of the palace any minute. Are all the men safe?”
Gregor nodded. “Why shouldn’t they be? There was no battle. The moment the explosions started, everyone was in a hurry to get out of the palace. They thought the end of the world had come. I sent our men down the hill with the horses away from the flames.” He grimaced in disgust as he nodded at the screaming men in the courtyard. “These are not soldiers.”
By the time they were halfway down the hill, the palace was engulfed in flames. Marianna looked back over her shoulder, and sadness overwhelmed her.
“He deserved to die,” Jordan said quietly. “If you hadn’t done it, I would have.”
She stared at him in surprise. “I wasn’t thinking of Nebrov.”
“No?”
“Grandmama’s work. All her beautiful windows…”
Gregor chuckled as he and Jordan exchanged glances. “Of course, you would think of the windows instead of that vermin. It is entirely natural, eh, Jordan?”
But Jordan was no longer looking back at the burning palace but down the hill at the gaping cavity caused by the explosion. He would not let her blame herself for Nebrov’s death, but she knew he would hold her at fault for the destruction of the tunnels he had wanted for Kazan. “I had to do it.”
“No, you chose to do it,” he said grimly. “There’s a difference. You must have spread the gunpowder in those other branches of the tunnel before Niko even caught sight of Nebrov and his men.”
“Don’t you see?” she asked, desperate to make him understand. “Grandmama created the Jedalar. She was part of that horror in the tunnel, and she had to make it right. She made Mama and me promise that the tunnel would never be used to kill anyone again. She even planned exactly how it could be done. She was the one who spread the rumor about the treasure room. She knew the czar planned to use that room for arms and gunpowder and-” She stopped as she saw Jordan’s face was completely expressionless. She had not thought he would forgive her. She said wearily, “Yes, I chose to do it. Even if I had made no vow, I would still have destroyed the tunnel.”
“Why?” Gregor asked.
“Because my grandmother was right. War is evil, and the tunnel was a weapon of war. Go fight your wars with the weapons you have.” She gazed steadily at Jordan. “I’m glad I did it.”
“Well, I’m not glad. I’m furious with you.” He took her elbow and pushed her down the hill toward the waiting troop. “But I can wait to express my displeasure until we get you to the inn and see if you have any burns.”
Great heavens, she had momentarily forgotten those flames that had nearly devoured them. “I’m not burned. It was you who-” Her glance had dropped to the hand holding her elbow, and she inhaled sharply. Angry red weals crisscrossed the back of his hand; his palms must be even worse. “You’re hurt!”
“Hurt is an accurate description.” His lips thinned. “And pain doesn’t tend to make my temper any better.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I never meant for you to suffer.”
His expression did not soften. “Then you shouldn’t have blown up that tunnel. You may have hurt a great many people with one stroke.”
She shook her head. It was useless to argue with him on a subject on which there could be no agreement.
“I have a medicinal cream in my saddlebag that will help,” Gregor said.
She again glanced back over her shoulder at the burning palace. She wished there was a medicine that would ease the pain from the wedge she had just driven between them.
Why was she mewing like a mournful cat? she thought impatiently. She had known what she was doing and what the result would be. Now, she had to accept it.
Dear God, she wished the pain would go away.
When they arrived at the inn in the village, Gregor took charge. His booming voice sent the innkeeper and servants scurrying to arrange for rooms, baths, and food for all of them and clean bandages for Jordan’s burns.
Within an hour Marianna found herself immersed in a tub of hot water in a simple but pleasantly furnished bedchamber. She washed her hair three times, but it still retained a faint hint of smoke.
She leaned back in the hip bath and wearily closed her eyes. It might take a long time to rid her body of the smell of that disaster in the tunnel, but she would never recover from the tragedy itself. She had given up too much with that one act.
“We’ll have to be miles away from this place by tomorrow morning.”
Her eyes opened to see Jordan standing in the doorway. He was dressed in black buckskin trousers and a loose white linen shirt. He had worn black and white that first night at Dalwynd, she remembered. No, she must not think of Dalwynd.
Her gaze flew to his hands, which were now neatly bandaged. “How bad are they?”
“Only minor blisters.” He came into the room and shut the door. “Did you hear me? We have to leave for Kazan tomorrow.” He strode over to the tub and reached for the large toweling cloth the servant had set beside it. “I know
