27

Skye faded in and out of sleep as she shivered in the dungeon. She wasn’t tired, exactly, but the darkness played on her mind, making her feel wearier than she really was.

The guard sat on a stool at the base of a stone staircase, whittling a piece of wood in the dim light of his torch.

The staircase where he sat was different from the stairs she’d been brought down. Her mind was foggy in the cold darkness, but if she was thinking straight, she had been brought into the dungeon through a staircase on the opposite end of the room.

Skye squirmed to keep herself awake. She could always talk to the guard to pass the time. She’d call him Whittler.

Not that he’d answer. He hadn’t been chatty so far, and he’d done lots of things to be cruel—like shoving her. If she spoke, he might come kick her just to spite her.

But she didn’t want to fall asleep again. Anything but that. Swallowing her nerves, she cleared her throat. “How did you know where I was? I’d just gotten there. You had to be waiting for me.”

The guard kept whittling.

She sighed and leaned her head against the cold stone wall. “I just want to go home. I didn’t do anything to end up here.”

The guard didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t care.

How many people had he held captive? Had he killed anyone?

Maybe it was better if he stayed over there, whittling, ignoring her.

She wasn’t some amazing fighter woman from the movies. She was just Skye, and she knew how to help people but she didn’t know anything about breaking out of chains in a dungeon.

Something rattled from the top of the staircase. The noise finally moved the guard from his stool, and he tossed his small knife and the figurine onto the ground then moved to the stairs. He kept his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist, ever at the ready to murder someone.

Skye hadn’t noticed the sword before, and the sight of it sent her stomach into waves.

“Guards approaching,” someone called out.

Apparently, her guard recognized the voice. He dropped his hand. “Orders?” he asked.

Two guards met him in the dim light, and she saw one shake his head. “None yet, except to feed her.”

Whittler scowled. “Feed her? Since when do we feed the prisoners?”

The guard who had been silent shoved a tray forward. “We don’t ask questions.”

Whittler kept his scowl but took the tray, which held a pitcher and a plate with bread on it.

Skye swallowed, realizing how thirsty she was.

Her guard brought the tray and shoved it toward her. The chains rattled as she gratefully reached for the small pitcher. There were no cups, so she poured the water directly into her mouth. It tasted metallic, but at least she couldn’t see the filth in the darkness.

“What are you making?” one guard asked from the stairs. He’d picked up the small wooden figure Whittler had been working on.

The three guards moved closer to the torch to examine the creation while Skye finished the water.

“Hurry up,” Whittler barked.

Skye jumped. She hadn’t realized he’d moved back to her side.

He scowled. “Take the bread so they can return to their post.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said.

She expected an argument, or a scowl, or at least a warning.

But Whittler was for real—which she kept forgetting—and he snatched her tray away before she could change her mind.

The other guards retrieved the tray then moved back up the stairs. After a moment, the door rattled from above, and the sound of a lock slid into place.

The guard went back to his stool, and bent to pick up his whittling knife and wood figure. He grunted. “Cursed idiots took my knife.”

He sprinted up the steps, and Skye waited for him to pound on the door. There was a slight crash and then a moan.

She sat up straighter, straining in the darkness to see what was going on at the top of the stairs. A moment later, the guard slid down the steps—being dragged by someone else.

“Philip?” she hissed. Tears burned her eyes and spilled out before she could stop them. “Oh, Philip.”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, panting. “Can you help me drag him and lock him up, if I get you out of there?”

“Of course!” she said around her blubbers. This was ridiculous. Stupid tears.

Philip dropped the unconscious guard’s shoulders. He patted the guard’s uniform until he found a ring with a few keys. Then he moved quickly to unlock her.

As soon as she was free, she wrapped her arms around him. It took him a millisecond to return the gesture. He let her cry for a moment, but then he pulled away. “We need to do this.”

She sniffled and nodded, determined to be brave.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “How did you find me?”

“I knew it had to be Saul who had taken you.”

“It wasn’t,” she said, cutting him off. “It was Lilla.”

His eyebrows raised. “Hmm. Anyway, I had to think of something, and I guess I did the right thing.”

She helped him grab the guard and drag him to the chains.

Philip locked the guard into the chains on the wall.

“How did you get in here?”

He pulled her away from the guard—probably in case Whittler woke up—and they moved closer to the torch light. “I’ve been up there for an hour thinking of a plan. I finally decided I just had to try something, so I went into the kitchen and demanded food for Saul. They didn’t question me. It’s pretty much chaos out there. Anyway, I approached the guards and told them Saul had instructed me to feed the prisoner. When they took the tray, I pretended to leave, but as soon as they were on the stairs I grabbed a heavy vase and followed them. The darkness hid me pretty well, and I was able to snag that knife and hide until the other guards left. Then I knocked your guard out with the vase.”

Philip? Hitting someone?

She couldn’t believe it. She stared at him for a few seconds. Even in the darkness, she could see his embarrassment.

“I was afraid I would have to stab him for a second. I didn’t want to do that, because either I’d kill him—uh, not something I wanted to do—or I’d make him really mad, and he’d kill me.”

Her throat swelled with emotion, and she grabbed his hand. “Thank you.”

He smiled and shrugged, the old Philip coming through. “It was nothing.”

She looked around. “How are we getting out of here?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. All of that worked, because God let it. I prayed.” Again, he seemed embarrassed. Philip grabbed the torch.

They moved quickly around the perimeter of the small dungeon.

“Look.” She pointed to the back wall where an archway could be made out in the dim light. “I think that’s the staircase they brought me through.”

Whittler shifted and groaned on the dirt floor, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Skye clutched Philip’s free hand. “Let’s move fast.”

They hurried to the archway, made their way through it, and moved to the stairs.

“This door leads to Lilla’s gardens,” she said.

He held out the torch, and they studied the high staircase.

Skye took a shaky breath. “You know there’s probably a guard up there, and the door will be locked.”

Philip held up the key ring. “Hopefully, one of these will work.”

She didn’t ask what they would do about the guard.

They climbed, the urgency of a guard at their back pushing them forward. He would wake up any second, and if he started yelling, someone was bound to come check on him.

At the top of the stairs, Philip paused. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Skye watched him.

Heavenly Father, please let us get home.

Finally, he reached out and tested the door. Locked, as expected. He rattled the door. A test?

No one answered.

He glanced at her.

It was now or never.

He slid the key into the lock and turned. The clicking of the lock sounded loud in the quiet dungeon, but after a second they pulled the door open.

No one stood watch on the outside, but just beyond Lilla’s garden a crowd gathered on the streets. People shouted, laughed, sang, cried. Three guards stood at the edge of the street, pushing people back from Lilla’s precious plants.

“The festival,” Philip said.

For once, the party was working in their favor.

“Let’s go.” She gripped his warm hand, and they darted through the garden. Skye had no idea which way to go, but getting away from the guards at the street seemed like a good choice.

They weaved in and out of trees, paths, and plants. When they passed the tiger, Philip gasped.

Skye grinned at him, enjoying his shock.

At last, they made it to a quiet alley.

“Guards have been posted all around the villa,” Philip whispered. He stood at an angle as he peered around the corner, blocking her with his own body.

Warmth spread through her. He wanted to protect her. Take care of her. Why did it surprise her so much? Maybe because no one had ever really wanted to do that before.

“It’s clear,” he said. They darted through the streets, and for the first time in hours she thought they might actually make it. He led her around a few buildings, keeping to alleys as much as possible. They reached a ladder, and he pulled her to it. “Go first this time, please.”

She didn’t question him. The ladder shook when he started climbing behind her.

“You said this was Lilla?” he asked.

“I didn’t see her,” she said, panting. Climbing was harder than it looked. “But in the garden, she spoke. It was her.”

“And was it Seth helping her?”

Skye shook her head. “No, I didn’t hear him. I don’t remember anything. Do you think they took him, too?”

Philip was quiet as they finished their climb and stood tall on the top of the building. Now the crowds were below them.

A couple laughed from the rooftop of the building behind them.

Skye spun around, but the couple was engrossed in each other.

“I was thinking he helped,” Philip said. “How else did they find you so fast?”

She shook her head again. “I don’t know. He seemed so sincere.”

They didn’t have time to talk about it. Philip pointed to the tower in the distance. “We have to get there fast before the sacrifice is set to begin.”

“When do they do that?”

“Ezekiel said at midnight on the third night. That’s tonight.”

Her stomach tightened. She hadn’t found the replacement Hebat, and if she left now then this girl would be sacrificed in her place.

But Philip was right. This was four thousand years in the past. These people were already dead in her day anyway, and they were out of time.

They leapt from rooftop to rooftop.

There was only one last thing to do, and that was make it home.