Slowly, I angle my trajectory, estimating that if I keep on this path, I’ll bisect theirs at a distant point. It will look like I’m too scared to think straight and just don’t know what I’m doing. I hope. I jog through the trees, and there’s no faking the ragged breaths scraping from my throat. I’m exhausted and on the verge of collapse.

“Zerra, where the fuck are you?” I try again. “Please don’t make me do this.”

The sounds of Rion’s guards grow louder as they crash through the bushes like a herd of hippos. They’re so confident about my capture, they’re not even attempting stealth.

Now it’s time for the incredibly stupid part of my plan. I have to let them see me.

A branch lies across my path, and I wince as I bring my foot down on top. The crack echoes through the forest like a lightning strike a split second before a voice shouts, “There she is!”

I twist in the opposite direction, running as fast as I can, weaving through the trees as I hear them gaining on me, narrowing my window of safety.

Rocks and branches stab and sting my bare soles, but I feel none of it. Adrenaline floods my limbs, keeping me upright, but it won’t last long. I’ve been running for hours, and my strength is long gone. Dozens of soldiers surround me, filtering out like mist until I spot their black uniforms in every direction. They’re closing in on me like I’m an injured deer, and I hope I’ve played this correctly.

When I’m surrounded on every side, I grind to a halt in the center of a small clearing, spinning around and around, my hands clutched to the sling holding the ark as dozens of soldiers emerge through the trees, all swagger and confidence.

I have two options right now.

The first is to use my magic. I could take them all out at once, but that would only buy me a temporary respite. Rion will send more guards, putting me right back in my current position, running for my life as I grow weaker and weaker. Eventually, they will wear me down.

Or I allow them to move closer and hope against every hope that Zerra is watching. Everything is counting on it.

“What’ve you got there, sweetheart?” a guard with mean eyes asks me, gesturing to the sling.

I don’t bother answering. His little pea brain wouldn’t comprehend the magnitude of what I hold even if I drew him a picture with captions.

“Stay away from me,” I say, holding out my hand. This bastard smiles. He isn’t the least bit afraid of me. Surely he saw what I did back at the palace? Everyone always underestimates me.