You hear Quinn answer quietly, but you don’t wait to hear how it plays out. Your heart is hammering in your chest. Beneath the bright anger is another emotion you don’t recognize. You push it off to the side, gritting your teeth and leading Trust deeper into the caves.

With each step, you try to ignore the fact that somehow he looks a little less bright than he did just a few minutes before.

Chapter 35: The Mountain Rebels

They’re close enough now that I can hear the rhythm of their hooves, the firing get-get of their voices. This was not the plan. The sun should be gone. The mountains should be closer. I didn’t expect the officials to be this fast. I’m leaning over Hammer and digging in both heels and pressing her to go faster than horses were born to go. At least four of them trail me. Sideways glances show an Ashlord wide to the left, and another swings out on the right. The other two must be riding on a line directly behind me. They’re still a hundred paces back, but they’re out far enough that I can see dust rising up and the steady, knowing expressions on their faces.

Even at a distance, I can tell which rebirths they’re using. The phoenixes have the telltale signs—inflamed nostrils and razor-thin eyes—of a Seeking rebirth. The Empire’s favorite breed of tracking horses. The only rebirth that can follow a scent through multiple lives, which means even if I make it to the mountains, they’ll still have the trail.

I am their legitimate prey.

I have stolen from the Empire.

Behind me, the hunters ride wide enough that if I tried to swing west or east, they’d have the perfect angle to end this chase in minutes. So I keep straight. I know there are two other Ashlords riding directly behind me, closing the distance one mile at a time. I know the sun will set in forty minutes and I know they’ll catch me long before then. The worst part is that I can feel Hammer struggling. She’s frothing and sweating and there’s that telling scent of burning flesh in the air. It’s like her insides are already working their way toward an inferno. I keep pushing her because she was born to push, born to die in flames, and born to rise with tomorrow’s sun.

I just want to be alive and free when she does.

I hear the shot long before I see the smoke.

It’s followed by others. Little, distant snaps of gunfire. Smoke curls in the vague landscape ahead and I hear one of the sets of hooves behind me stop. The rider falls. The second trailing Ashlord shouts out quick commands. Her flanking riders angle inward. They’re still a hundred yards back, but the noose is getting tighter.