Of course, we might be, too.

Because in between trying to pull the damned creatures back into something like the middle of the street, and avoiding decapitation, and trying to miss the darting people, who luckily appeared to be used to horrifically bad driving, I saw security forces converging on us from all sides.

But not out of the gate ahead, where I guess the guards hadn’t got the memo yet. Or maybe old training just died hard. They were so used to letting their lords and masters do whatever the hell they wanted that they just stood there with confused looks on their faces as we barreled past, despite having a dozen yelling guards right on our tail.

“How many gates is that?” Caleb asked, throwing a spell that caused the portcullis on our side to come crashing down as soon as we shot past it.

“Two!”

“Shit. And the outer wall makes three, and there’s three above that damned palace. . . ”

“That leaves three.”

“No, two. The palace is on the sixth level, not beyond it. We don’t need to pass through the sixth gate.”

Yeah, but we needed the fourth and fifth, and I didn’t think we were going to get them. Because bells were suddenly clanging out a warning from higher up on the walls, and the guards were getting closer, and the warren of streets meant that we kept flashing by alleys on both sides, and more and more of those had red energy bolts coming out of them. At the rate we were going, I doubted we’d get one more.

Of course, I could be wrong.

A couple of guards stepped out in front of the next gate, arms stretched out in warning, too far away to worry about getting run down. But not too far to get blown off the street with a single spell. We shot through the gate, which they hadn’t bothered to bring down, because of course we were going to stop when politely asked to do so.

Of course we were.

Our manners need work, I thought, and giggled. And wondered if I was going mad.

“One more,” Caleb said, looking at me strangely.

“Yeah, maybe,” I breathed, because suddenly I couldn’t even see the palace anymore.

I stared around through frizzled blond hair, trying to figure out where, exactly, I’d taken a wrong turn, because I couldn’t remember turning at all. But the streets up here were even worse than in the souk, a tangled mess of intersecting passages, like a bandit’s dream, and anything but straight. And the palace, when I saw it at all, didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Like a mirage, it gleamed in glimpses through buildings or at the end of alleys, shining mockingly as we scattered people and dodged lightning bolts and ran over every freaking thing—

And then plunged straight into a mass of guards.

They’d gathered in a small plaza, ahead of the last gate, which two of them appeared to be trying to bring down. But it looked like maybe these inner gates hadn’t been shut in a very long time and weren’t in the best repair, because they appeared to be having trouble. But they clearly didn’t intend that we get any farther. A storm of red lightning tore through the air at us and then burst into a blinding halo just beyond our camels’ noses as Caleb flung up a shield.

It kept us from being fried, but there were too many of them, and that shield wouldn’t last long under this kind of pounding, and it looked like they’d finally gotten

the gate moving and—

And screw it.

“Are you crazy?” Caleb said when I stopped trying to hold the half-crazed camels back and gave them a little smack on the butt with the reins instead.

I didn’t answer, because I didn’t have a good one, and because we’d just jumped ahead, hitting a dip in the street and sailing over, knocking several guards to the ground in the process and possibly running over a third. Although I didn’t see how since I was pretty damned sure that both wheels had left the ground. And then we were hitting back down, hard enough to have me biting my cheek half in two as we flew through the last gate, the camels’ noses almost straight out in front of their bodies, and me and Caleb ducking down to where ours were barely visible over the top of the chariot.

And I still felt those wicked spikes, miniature versions of the ones on the main gate outside, brush my curls as we passed.

I didn’t care. I swallowed blood, too busy trying not to fall out on my ass to care about anything else. I didn’t even try to steer anymore; it was virtually impossible at this speed anyway, and besides, the camels seemed to know where they were going. I just held on, the little leg brace on the side of the chariot digging into my thigh, my hands white-knuckled on the front, and Caleb cursing and camels screeching and bells clanging—

And the palace suddenly reappearing in front of us, up a long stretch of hill.

There was yet another gate in front of it, a flimsy-looking thing that seemed more ornamental than anything else, and a couple of white-robed guys with fancy gold belts who looked a lot prettier than the blue-robed fiends behind us. But judging by their expressions, they were also mostly there for looks.

I guess not too many people tried storming Rosier’s palace.

Or if they did, these weren’t the guys to stop them.

They took one disbelieving look at us, out-of-control camels and fleeing people and fiery spells just whaling on us now, as the guards converged into a single long line behind us. And then they jumped to either side as we burst through the gate, with shards of precious wood flying and several planters crashing and a swaying lantern overhead shattering.

And then we were in.

Chapter Seventeen

We didn’t stop. There were more pretty, pretty guards coming down the sweeping front staircase and Caleb’s shield had just given up the ghost. And judging by the pounding it had taken, it wasn’t going back up anytime soon.

So we plowed through the middle of them, camels and all, straight up the stairs, and into a blur of brilliant colors and intricate patterns and gorgeous tile work. Servants in white and gold ringed an atrium with a long pool and fountains, serving a bunch of beautiful people. Who stopped eating long enough to stare at us party crashers in shock, one woman even having a canapé fall out of her lovely mouth.

And then Caleb had me by the hand and we were over the side of our messed-up vehicle and up another gorgeous set of stairs, not because we knew where we were going, but because the blue-robed guards couldn’t be far behind.

“Which way?” Caleb asked as we burst onto the next floor, and almost got beaned by a guy in a skimpy outfit and a fancy tray.

I don’t think it was on purpose; he looked like the servants downstairs, in flimsy gathered trousers and a gold sash. And once Caleb snatched the tray away from him, he just stood there quivering, his eyes huge. Until Caleb shoved him in the direction of the stairs and he went running, yelling something in a language I didn’t know, but in the universal tone of “oh, shit!”

“Where?” Caleb said again, practically crushing my biceps.

“I don’t know!”

“What do you mean—”

“That’s what Rian was for!”

“Shit!”

And yeah. But then the noise from downstairs suddenly elevated, and we were out of time to debate it. “Run,” I suggested.

It was seconded and carried, leading us to pound down the hall and up some more stairs, narrow back ones this time. It looked like they were only used by servants, which was fine—unless we got caught on them with no room to maneuver. But we didn’t, because the guys chasing us were coming from behind, and the few people we saw going up made no effort to hinder us.

Which would have been great—if we knew where we were going.

“Look for guards!” Caleb told me as we passed a tiny landing leading to an expansive hallway. “He’ll have some on his door!”

But there weren’t any guards on any doors on that floor, or the next, or the one after that. I tried to tamp down my panic, but it wasn’t working. This place hadn’t looked so big from the souk, but up close was a different story. It would take hours to search it all, if Rian had even been telling the truth about Pritkin being here, which I wasn’t placing any bets on right at the—

I crashed into Caleb, who had abruptly stopped, one foot on the next flight going up, in order to look at someone down the hall. Not a guard, although the guy was in blue. And not a servant, although he came staggering backward out of a room as if somebody hadn’t liked the dinner entrée.

Or his face, I thought, as Casanova hit the wall and bounced off, only to meet a very familiar fist on the way back to his feet.

“Pritkin!” Caleb and I yelled together, and the irate blond who had just followed Casanova out the door looked up, and then did a double take, fist still clenched. And then clenched the other one as a scowl to beat all scowls spread over his face and took up residence there. He stared at me, and he looked pissed.

Only no, that didn’t really cover it.

He looked like I’d felt when I woke up on that damp, burning hillside, only to find that he’d just given up the independence he’d worked so hard for, had suffered so much for, in trade for my life. When I realized that he’d just destroyed his future to save mine even though I hadn’t asked, and would never have asked, him to. The same impotent, all-consuming, helpless fury was on his face that had been on mine that night and I was suddenly, viciously glad of it.

And then he jerked Casanova off the wall and dragged him inside and we ran after them and slammed the door. Which was stupid, because it wasn’t like everybody didn’t know where we’d gone, and I didn’t think a flimsy piece of wood was going to hold them off for long. But it felt good to slam it, so good that I almost opened it and did it again.

I settled for glaring at Pritkin as he glared back, and dared him to say it. Dared him to tell me off for doing the exact same thing he’d done for me. Dared him to say anything.

“You broke my node!” Casanova screeched.

“You brought her here!” Pritkin said viciously, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Not willingly, you insufferable—”

“Where’s Rian?” I demanded, cutting him off, but staring at Pritkin. He looked different. The hair was longer, to the point it could actually be styled like a normal person’s. He was shaved and his skin looked soft, with a slight shimmer to it like the people’s downstairs. He was wearing some flowy, desert sheik caftan thing in a dark green that highlighted the breadth of his shoulders and brought out his eyes.