Page 95 of A Thief to Die For

‘You did everything right,’ I say firmly, locking eyes with her. ‘You fought well.’

She coughs again, eyes darting around. The fear on her face guts me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give to save her right now. ‘Just look at me,’ I say.

The flames are growing so intense that I’m sweating. The room is becoming an oven; the smoke, even down low, is painful to breathe.

‘Ryland,’ she calls. ‘I need to tell you something. Atlas – he’s heading to Kingsland.’

I struggle to make sense of what she’s saying.

‘He’s using Agatha’s bombs to attack. He’s going to raid them.’ She stops to cough long and hard. And I do too. ‘They won’t stand a chance.’

The smoke is making my eyes water, and it’s difficult to hold them open. ‘Don’t worry about that. Pull your shirt over your nose. Try to breathe. That’s the key.’

‘But you don’t have a shirt.’ Her eyes go unfocused. ‘Wait a minute – what did you say? That’s the … key?’ Then she’s moving, hands patting her trousers. Her shirt. Her movements slow as she carefully pulls something small out of her breast pocket with her bound hands. ‘Benedict, I love you,’ she says, holding up an ancient-looking key.

‘Try it,’ I urge.

She inserts it into the lock on the cuff, while I grit my teeth against the blistering heat.

‘It’s not a fit,’ she cries. ‘It’s too small.’

My eyes close. I can’t watch her die.

‘But maybe … maybe I can …’ She plays with the lock, fiddling and twisting. Suddenly there’s a pop and her chain falls with a clatter to the floor.

We both gasp, then cough as we scramble to our feet. In seconds, she has the chains falling from me as well. ‘Get out of here,’ I command her, taking the key to free Rufus.

Since the fire was started closest to Marian, it’s less of an inferno over here. But somehow it’s smokier, and – what the hellfire did she do to make this work? I continue twisting the key that’s too small for the keyhole, ramming it at different angles. Nothing works.

‘I’ve got it,’ Marian says, appearing beside me. She takes over, while I switch to untying her wrists. I loosen the rope and get it off her. The lock pops – already? I almost kiss her forehead. Then we’re up and running, clearing the prison room. My hand hovers close, ready to catch her, carry her if I have to. But she’s strong, leading the way to the front door. We all spill out, hacking and trying to catch our breath in the fresh air.

I brace my hands on my knees but spot Soren standing in the trees. Looks like he stuck around to watch us burn. An alarm blares in my head as he seems to make a decision, drawing his knife.

He left the Commander’s daughter to die.

He can’t leave witnesses.

A fresh surge of adrenaline hits as he breaks into a sprint, charging at us.

‘Ryland,’ I rasp, breathless. But he knows Soren’s coming. I only hope he also sees the knife in Soren’s hand.

Soren swings violently and Ryland dives back, but he’s too winded from the smoke to really fight. He coughs, barely moving out of the way of Soren’s next slash with the blade.

He needs a weapon. I whirl around, searching, but everything is inside the jail. At the smoky door of the post, I gulp two big breaths of clean air, then run inside and regret it instantly. The smoke is like acid in my eyes, the heat unbearable.

Do it anyway. Ryland will die without something to defend himself. Resolve bolsters me as I clear the first room quickly. My lungs ache from lack of oxygen as I enter the back room we just escaped. It feels like the flames plaster the ceiling. Blindly, I make my way to the wall of torture instruments and pat it down. My hand closes on exactly what I’m looking for.

The burn from holding my breath turns agonising, and I allow a small pant. Acrid smoke spreads like poison through my lungs. I immediately start coughing. The heat adds to my panic as my clothes feel like they’re on fire.

Get low, Ryland had said.

But I can’t. Instead, I run, fighting my desperate lungs from taking another breath and stumble out of the door. I suck in fresh air, then check myself – no flames to put out. A miracle.

My gaze snaps to Ryland. Although Soren’s above him, they both have a hand on the knife, wrestling for control.

‘Get off him!’ I shout, panting.

Soren ignores me.