That had been it. The truth that had made everything else slide into place.

Just as the reality of it settled in her once more, so did the pick into the lock. The click was overloud in the quiet room.

Mia wasted no time. “Come on,” she said without even turning to Robert. He was behind her in an instant, his breath heavy against the nape of her neck. She shivered, the dampness of each puff unsettling.

The knob gave beneath her hand, the door opening without a protest, the hinges smooth and well oiled. They stepped out into a darkened, narrow hallway, her shoulders brushing against the walls as she started down the long corridor. Servants quarters, her mind supplied. That’s why everything was so tight. The place was old.

Her bare feet were silent against the hardwood, and she kept her body angled so that her chest wouldn’t provide an easy target. Robert stumbled behind her, all noise and pain and carelessness.

He wouldn’t make it long. His body was concave, almost curling into itself even as he struggled with each heavy shuffle, his free arm hovering over his center, protecting his wound.

When they reached the end of the hallway, there was a steep staircase leading up to what Mia assumed was the ground floor. Robert whimpered, low and pitiful.

“Robert, I’m going to hide you here,” Mia said, both hands clutching his shoulders for the purpose of keeping him upright more than to get his attention. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

A protest slipped out, scraping against his throat. “Don’t leave me.”

“I don’t think you’ll make it up those stairs.” This wasn’t the time for a debate. If needed, she could put pressure on the right places so that he would go down without a fight. She didn’t want it to come to that, though.

“I will. Let me try,” Robert said, lifting his chin. “Let me try.”

She met his eyes. This was a man who had spent however many days locked in a damp basement. If the situation were reversed, she’d rather do anything than be left behind.

“Okay. But if you need to stop . . .”

“I won’t.”

Mia took him for his word and started up. She didn’t need to turn to make sure he was keeping up; his breathing was loud enough that she could track his progress.

By the time they got to the top, sweat had beaded along his hairline, and his face was nearly gray in the light from the single bulb above their heads.

But he’d made it.

Neither of them smiled in celebration this time.