I collapsed on the heated dock, struggling to catch my breath.
I could have been crushed.
Impaled.
Snapped into a hundred pieces.
By the time I’d gathered my wits and managed to stand up again, Arrick had already jumped back into the fray. I owed him my gratitude, but now wasn’t the time.
I staggered over to the nearest cluster of men, desperately working to open a door. The window had been boarded shut with thick planks. The men had given up on the window, choosing to pick the lock on the door instead.
This I could help them with. I might not have the brute strength needed to pry stakes out of thick wood. But I did have hair pins.
“Move!” I shouted at them over the roar of the furnace around us. Surprisingly, they did.
I crouched in front of the lock, recognizing the royal detail and craftsmanship. It would have been impossible to open without a key. Unless you had older brothers who had been making you break into royal wine stores since you were old enough to carry something back.
I pulled a hair pin from my braid and tried not to touch the scorching metal as I worked the heavy lock. But my fingers, knuckles and palms burned as I brushed against the metal more than I would have liked.
I struggled to breathe through the smoke and tried to ignore the hysterical screams from inside the building.
I closed my eyes and forced it all to fade into the background. I focused on my brothers’ instructions. I pictured their bright eyes teaching their little sister something forbidden so that they had someone to blame their mischief on. I remembered their laughter, their cheers when I finally picked my first lock. I remembered dragging wineskins from the cellars to my giddy brothers waiting in the hall. I remembered my father’s fury when he found out what they had done. And my mother’s laughter as Father relayed what had happened later that night.
I let ghosts lead the way and memory guide my fingers until at last, the lock snicked free. I leaned back with a garbled breath of relief. The men grunted their approval, pushing me out of the way as they kicked in the door.
I followed them, gasping at the bodies on the floor. Some lay unconscious on the ground, their faces frozen in agonized masks. Others screamed or clung to each other as they waited for death.
A dozen people had been locked inside this dress shop and if we hadn’t come upon them, they would have died here, crumpled in clumps on the floor.
Clinging to each other, hopeless, miserable, and trapped.
They would have burned alive.
The soldiers immediately started pulling bodies from the room. They scooped up villagers with impressive strength and tossed them over their shoulders.
I couldn’t lift adults, but a small child caught my eye. He lay tangled in a heap next to a woman that had to be his mother from the way her limp fists gripped his curly hair and her body lay over his protectively. His pale little face fell with a listlessness that made my heart gallop in my chest.
I rushed to them, stepping over grown villagers and the rebel soldiers working to save them. I grabbed the tunic of the man closest to me. “I need help!” It was Eret.
I pointed to the little boy and his mother. “I’ll get the child.” I paused to cough and gasp, desperately needing clean oxygen to clear this lightheadedness. My fingers curled into his shirt. “You get the woman!” I ordered him.
He nodded wearily. The smoke took its toll on all of us. For a second I worried that this giant of a man didn’t have the strength left in him to carry a woman half his size. But he had no choice. If he didn’t rescue her, she would die. And I refused to let this little boy be orphaned.
I refused.
Scooping him up into my arms, I swayed from his weight. As slight and fragile as he looked, he weighed heavily in my arms.
“All right?” Eret huffed with the woman slung over his shoulder.
“Fine,” I lied. I nodded for him to lead the way.
We rushed from the room and raced through the village. As we moved, the air cleared and the heat receded.
The fire was being contained, even if it had not yet been extinguished.
At last we reached a lift that would take us to solid ground. Eret held my arm as we stepped onto it, joining soot smeared villagers and victim-laden soldiers.
The platform swayed beneath our weight, but the ropes held strong. I leaned against Eret, thankful for his steadiness.
As soon as the platform landed on the forest floor, we jumped off, following soldiers even further from the village. The air continued to clear and I could at last take a deep breath.
Even if it hurt.
Down the road, a medic station had been set up. Oliver stood next to four of Arrick’s soldiers tending to the worst of the wounded while other villagers waited their turn.
Eret laid the woman on the ground, examining her. When he was satisfied she would live, he took the little boy from my arms and did the same.
“They’ll be fine,” he informed me gruffly. “They had too much of the smoke, but when they awake, they’ll be all right.”
I nodded. It was all the strength I had left.
He led me to the nearest well. Dipping a cup into cool water, he handed it over. I drank greedily. Water splashed over my dirty dress, smearing ash and soot on my skin.
When I finished, Eret handed me another cupful. I paused long enough to nod gratefully before using the drink to quench the fire inside me.
“You ready to do that again?” he asked when I had drunk my fill.
I set the cup down, wiping the back of my mouth on my sleeve. Holding his gaze, I saw the challenge there. “Yes,” I told him.
“Let’s go.”
He turned and raced for the platform that would send us
