“I don’t take orders from you,” Naari said, moving a step in front of Kiva and Jaren, renewing her grip on her blades. “Not anymore.”

Rooke’s eyebrows shot upward, and he looked pointedly at the guards with him. “What exactly do you think is going to happen here? That I’ll just let you go?” He shook his head. “I can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

“Too bad yeh don’t ’ave a choice, yeh horse’s ass.”

Mot hobbled swiftly into view, his hand clasped around a vial raised like a weapon before him.

“Uh-uh-uh,” the apothecary tutted when the guards moved in his direction. “Did yeh see what ’appened to the watchtower? Unless yeh want a repeat of that right ’ere”—he shook the vial tauntingly—“then yeh’ll let Kiva and ’er friends go.”

Kiva’s heart clutched at his words. Not at his threat, but because he hadn’t said anything about going with them.

“Mot—”

“Get outta ’ere, Kiva luv,” Mot said, his gaze softening as he looked her way, then settled on Tipp in her arms. “Give ’im a good life, yeah? Yeh both deserve to find ’appiness.”

“Come with us,” she begged, even if she could already see the decision in his eyes.

“I’ll only slow yeh down. And besides, I still got work to do ’ere, don’t I?” He winked and sent her a brown-toothed grin.

“Mot—” Kiva tried again, but the Warden cut her off.

“What are you waiting for?” Rooke yelled at his guards. “Do something!”

At his command, they stepped toward Mot again, swords raised, while Rooke himself moved closer to Kiva.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the Warden spat at her.

“No, yeh’re not goin’ anywhere,” Mot said, and before anyone else could speak, he threw the vial at Rooke’s feet.

Fire erupted on impact, enough that Naari swore as she, Jaren, and Kiva scrambled backwards to get away from the immense heat, until they slammed into the limestone wall behind them. It wasn’t a blast, like that which had brought down the tower, but the inferno was sudden and violent, forming a barricade of flames between them and the Warden, causing Rooke to retreat or risk being burned alive.

“Go, Kiva!” Mot bellowed from the other side of the fire. “I’ll hold ’em off—just go!”

Naari tugged on Kiva’s sleeve, and she knew she had to follow, knew she had to honor Mot’s sacrifice even if every part of her wished she could save him, free him.

“I’m sorry, Kiva, but we have to—”

“I know,” she interrupted Naari’s warning, her voice breaking. “I’m right behind you.”

And she was.

As Naari turned her brass key and opened the door, Kiva held Tipp tighter and staggered through the exit after her, with Jaren bringing up the rear.

“This way,” Naari said the moment they were all on the other side of the wall, leading them at a fast clip toward the stables.

Kiva swallowed back her questions—and her emotions—as they entered the large building, praying that Naari had a plan.