It felt so different. I moved tentatively, barely letting my lace touch him at all, but he leaned into the compulse, impatient, as if he wanted me to hurry up, like he was pulling me in. This was Finn, familiar but so strange, and I was blisteringly aware that he was looking right back at me.

“Everything okay over there?” Millie’s voice drifted out from the far side of the crawlspace.

“Yes,” I replied, flustered. I felt my way over to the tunnel. It seemed that Millie had managed to drag Lariel through to the other side. “Just fine.”

Finn knelt beside me. His breathing was unsteady. I gently increased the compulse, my power washing over his fear like ripples on the surface of water.

“You go first,” I murmured. “I’m right behind you.”

The tunnel was short; I could hear the rhythmic metal clangs of Millie’s shoes on the rungs of the far shaft. My lace tied me to Finn, I let my feelings brush against his mind, and his echoed back to me—trust and anxiety and concern; even now, he was concerned about me. Don’t be afraid, I willed, crawling forward on my hands and knees. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

He reached the end of the tunnel, and the space opened up around the base of the second shaft. His relief flooded my mind, and I smiled to myself. Wiping dirt off my hands, I straightened and let go of my lace.

“You made it seem easy,” I said.

Finn laughed. My sense of connection faded, and I experienced a strange pang. I wanted to remain joined to him a little longer.

“I think the hatch is locked,” called Millie from above us. “I can’t get it open.”

I snapped out of my distraction. “Let me try, then.”

Millie returned to the bottom of the shaft, and I sidled around her, almost tripping over Lariel.

“Good job,” she muttered.

“Mill, for the last time, I can hear you.”

She huffed in irritation.

The air grew colder as I climbed the ladder; outside, I could hear the wind howling. The weather had changed swiftly; it sounded like a storm. Maybe that would work to our advantage. The cold rungs prickled under my hands, rusted and slick with moisture. I extended my hand overhead, and my nails scratched the underside of the wooden hatch.

I channelled my lace upwards. With a splintering crack, the trapdoor flew open.

Instantly, rain lashed my face. The water was driven sideways in the high wind, fat drops stinging my skin. I pulled myself out of the shaft. Even though the moon was low and dim through the clouds, the darkness here was ordinary. I could finally see again.

The smugglers’ tunnel emerged at the border of the Fields. Behind me, the lights on the city wall floated like yellow beads on a string. Maize tossed drunkenly from side to side. In the storm, we would be invisible to the night watch.