“Right,” she says, standing to her feet and dusting off her hands. “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Arryn leads the way along the tunnel at a brisk pace, her strides unfaltering, even when the gradient begins to slope downward, becoming steeper the farther we travel. If not for the flashlight bobbing a bright beam ahead of us, we’d be traveling blind, tripping and stumbling down the narrow, steadily dropping passageway. I offer to summon more light for us, but Arryn tells me to save my energy. Feeling as wired as I am, I keep forgetting what can happen when fatigue sets in, how challenging Speaking can become. Given what we might soon be facing, Arryn’s right in warning that I shouldn’t expend my power before it’s really needed.

Ten minutes, twenty minutes, thirty minutes pass as we continue along the thigh-burning decline that finally begins to level out. We’re deep beneath the earth now, so deep that I’m struggling with my growing claustrophobia. I’m not sure if it helps that I can’t see much—almost as if not knowing makes it easier to forget where I am.

I pull my coat tighter around me, simultaneously chilled and sweating due to the damp, stale, wintry air in the tunnel combined with the exertion of the trek. To my shame, despite us moving downward, I’m panting lightly, feeling the effects of limited movement over the last six days. If Enzo were here, he’d kick my ass for being so out of shape. While I’m still bitter about Arryn healing me, the farther we travel, the more I realize that without her intervention, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with the pace she’s setting. As it is, I’m struggling.

“Are we walking to New Zealand?” Cami pants from just in front of me as the minutes continue to tick by. We’re power walking—almost jogging, really—now that the path is no longer sloped.

“We’re on the clock to get out of these tunnels if we want to make our ride,” Arryn calls back to us. “We couldn’t take the usual exit since someone would have seen us, either in person or via the surveillance feeds. But that also means we have to avoid using the zoo’s wharf for the same reasons. So this”—she waves the flashlight around us—“might be a bit of a hike, but it’ll take us where we need to go if we want to stay off the radar. Don’t worry, though. We’re about halfway there.”

Halfway? Instead of grumbling, I try to be grateful that it’s the first semi-explanation Arryn has offered us.

“What’s the deal with these underground tunnels?” Cami asks before I can. “Where does this one go?”

“I can’t answer for all of them,” Arryn says, kicking a rock out of our way and to the side of the path. “But most were built in the late 1800s after the Brits left and people were worried about other nations coming to invade—or raiding parties being sent to steal gold. There’s an entire network beneath the city, most of which was left alone until World War II, when the passages were used as a go-between for different battlements and bunkers, as well as storage hollows for munitions and supplies.” She pauses, then continues her history lesson, “Most of the tunnels have faded from memory or are now considered too unstable for people to risk their lives by exploring. This one in particular is a no-go zone, with very few people even knowing about it anymore. Unlike most of the others on this side of the city, it cuts across from Middle Head and comes out near Cannae Point, which is why it was sealed and labeled too dangerous for—”