No one had ever confused me the way he did.
I remained silent, and he didn’t try to goad me further. The hush around us was thick, but it was the sounds from above, coming from the city, that reminded me—reminded all of us—of why we were down here, huddled and hiding.
At times it seemed like the violence—the blasts that would cause the ground beneath us to quake—was right on top of us, making me worry for myself and my little sister, who I knew wasn’t actually sleeping but lay motionless in my arms. At others, the sounds were farther away, making me worry for my parents, for Aron and for Brooklynn. For everyone who wasn’t here.
It was easy not to speak to Max. Fear consumed me, making me raw, eating away at me from the inside out. I would rather not be angry on top of the fear, but that was his fault. His choice.
All his secrets and lies made it impossible not to be mad at him.
At some point during the night, sleep had won. I couldn’t recall the exact point at which I’d finally succumbed, but I knew that the exhaustion had been there, tugging at me, trying to close my eyes and making me weak with fatigue.
Angelina had given in long before I had.
I leaned against something warm . . . or rather, someone, I thought vaguely. A strong arm held me, a hand stroked mine.
And lips.
Someone had kissed the top of my head.
Or had I only dreamt that?
Somewhere in the back of my mind, whispered warnings insisted that I wake, insisted that this was all a mistake.
Yet I continued to sleep, refusing to pay attention to that cautionary voice.
I was sure it was the shouting that woke me, but it just as easily could have been the murmuring. Or the lights that were starting to fill the tunnels, infiltrating my eyelids and invading the darkness.
Or it could have been the fact that I’d just realized my head was resting on Max’s lap, my hand draped casually over the top of his Bs i a of his thigh.
Whatever it was, I bolted upright, clinging to Angelina and trying not to disturb her. I was startled that I’d allowed myself to get so comfortable.
Around me the whispers grew, becoming frenzied.
Something was happening.
“What’s going on?” I questioned Max, who was watching the commotion near the entrance.
His lifted his finger to his lips. “Nothing,” he answered softly. “Just stay quiet and keep your head down.”
I glanced around, trying to make sense of things.
Near the entrance, voices rose to shouts, and lanterns were being lit all along the platform. Still, it was hard to see anything from where we sat.
“I know you’re down here!” a man’s voice bellowed, like a growl, rippling through the shadows.
There was silence for a moment, as everyone stopped to listen. And then a smaller voice—another man—responded, but I couldn’t hear what he said.
More lanterns were ignited.
I craned my neck, trying to get a better view.
“Charlie, stay down,” Max warned, pulling me back.
Angelina was awake now, sitting noiselessly on my lap. I squeezed her arm but spoke to Max. “Who is that? His voice, it seems . . . familiar.”
Max shook his head, so many emotions crossing his face. He looked at once trapped and defeated, and his shoulders sagged. He watched me closely for several long seconds before answering me at last. “They’re here for me.” He reached out and ruffled Angelina’s hair, smiling at her wistfully. “I should have known they’d come looking for me.”
My eyes widened. I knew it! I’d worried that Max should have been somewhere else, that he was supposed to be with his platoon instead of helping a pair of merchant girls escape into the tunnels beneath the city. Even Sydney, as a member of the Counsel class, didn’t warrant the kind of protection he’d provided us.
I wondered what the penalty was for desertion.
I reached for his hand, clutching his fingers. “What can we do? There’s no place to hide.”
The voice boomed again, coming from atop the platform. “I know you’re down here! You might as well come out now!”
I knew this time, without a doubt. I knew who was speaking—yelling, rather—through the passageways. His deep voice rumbled off the walls and vibrated in the air. I glanced up again. More lanterns had been lit, and he was closer now as people stood hastily to get out of his way.
It was Claude, sounding and looking imposing in his uniform, even in the gloom of the tunnels beneath the city.
And he wasn’t alone. Behind him marched a small army of soldiers, including the other man I recognized, the second man from the club that night, the darker-skinned Zafir. Neither he nor Claude were the kind of men I could ever Bs i ald ever forget.
Max grinned at me, an odd response, I thought. Then he leaned close, his mouth almost to mine, stealing my breath and capturing my awareness. “Whatever happens, promise me one thing?”
I wanted to nod, but I was afraid to move. Afraid that if I did, our lips might actually touch, and then I’d be lost, unable to think, or speak, or promise him anything at all.
I blinked slowly instead.
Max’s smile spread, his lips parting.
Footsteps landed in the gravel somewhere nearby, and the light from a lantern came closer still. They were almost upon us, and I knew that time was running short.
“Promise me that no matter what happens right now, you won’t be angry with me.” I was still holding on to his hand, and his fingers crushed mine, as if securing my oath.
The man on the other side of me stood and moved his family out of the path of the approaching soldiers.