âBreak in.â Shilah stabbed the shop door with a sweaty finger. âI think after what we invented you should have no problem with a lock, Spout.â
I was still in shock and barely able to think, let alone tinker.
News of my fatherâs death had kicked my heart halfway through my chest. And watching Leroi being consumed by the Vicaress and her army had finished the job. I had a feeling if I turned around quickly enough Iâd see a red lump gathering sand and dust on the street, thumping its final beat.
My cleverness was as slow as scorched honey. Despite staring right at one, Iâd forgotten how locks even work. Shilah was breathing heavily, her braided hair pasted against her right shoulder with sweat. There used to be a blade hidden in those locks when sheâd lived out in the sands, but sheâd given that habit up after moving to the Tavor Manor. Something at the back of my mind whispered that a traditional blade would be too big for this job anyway, but I had no access to any other memories that might spur an alternative plan.
âSpout,â she said. âI know you can do this.â
The dark skin of her face was flushed, thick beads of sweat dripping down her neck and staining the waterskin slung over her chest. After getting used to the comfort of Leroiâs tinkershop, I think both of our bodies had forgotten how deeply the sky could bite.
Shilah, Cam, and I had somehow avoided the Vicaress, fleeing through the empty sands and making it to the centre of Paphos without getting caught. The hour was too early for the Street Jadans to be racing towards their corners, which meant only the eyes of the sky were upon us.
The enemy wasnât far behind and was quickly gaining ground. Shouts and commands flooded the nearby streets and echoed down the alleyways.
âI donât wantâ â heave â âto rush you, Spout.â Camâs words were mostly wheeze, pitched up and squeezed. âBut I think I hearâ â heave â âthem coming.â
If Shilah appeared overheated, then Cam was roasted and ready to serve. Unkempt yellow hair was brightly contrasted against the red of his face, making him look as if heâd been hanging upside down all night, his blood gathered in his delicate Noble cheeks. Heâd somehow managed to maintain his gold-rimmed glasses, but despite his best efforts, they kept sliding down his nose, his skin as slick as Ice.
Shouting from the pursuers became more barbed as the taskmasters closed in. The Vicaress and her forces had been at our heels since our narrow escape from the Tavor gardens, where Camâs father nearly had us cornered. If not for Leroiâs heroics, I imagine we would currently be strung up from the Manor gates, awaiting judgement.
Touching a Frost is punishable by death.
We didnât just touch one.
We stole a Frost and used it to create an invention that could shatter the entire Khatdom. We discovered a secret that could save my people.