“Will you stop doing that?” He escapes me, barely, jumping backward. He’s got a lantern with him, but it’s mostly shielded. Only slivers of light escape to break up the blue-green illumination of the wispfire. “I’m getting you out of here, you stupid trodaire.”

My brain feels like it’s running on a treadmill in a pool of tar. “Out of here,” I echo stupidly. “Your people changed their minds?”

“Not exactly.” To his credit, he doesn’t try to manhandle me again, keeping a cautious distance.

I stare at him, confused. I’ve seen his hideout—granted, not much of it from the inside of my cell, but I’ll see a whole lot more of it while he’s leading me to safety.

My mouth opens, and I find myself asking, “What’re the other rebels going to do to you when they find out you helped me?”

“I’m hoping it’ll look like you escaped on your own. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Now, are you coming?”

A flicker of admiration courses through me. Going against his own people takes guts. Of course, if he were on our base, he’d get handed a court martial for insubordination. “You’re insane,” I point out, trying not to shiver in the clammy chill.

“Then I’m in good company.” He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out. “Coming?”

This time I don’t hesitate. I turn and let him put the jacket over my shoulders, and together we slip from the cell and out into the corridor.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Oh, I thought maybe dinner and a nice boat ride to see the wisps. Somewhere quiet and romantic, then maybe drinks afterward before I drop you home.”

This is costing him, going against his people in order to get me out. He’s covering, and not doing a very good job of it. A thousand cutting retorts flicker through my thoughts, but the words don’t come. We lapse into silence as he leads me through the corridors.

After a time he slows, lifting a hand to warn me to do the same. Then he strides around the corner like he owns the place. We must be into more heavily trafficked areas now, where people would notice if he was skulking around secretively. After a second he gestures for me to follow. All clear. It’s only a few seconds later that footsteps echo back toward us, and Cormac’s hand reaches out to jerk me into an alcove.

This nook is barely more than a crack in the rock, with only enough room for us to squeeze in out of sight in the shadows. Our bodies press together, my ribs aching in protest, the gash in my side burning. His head turns a little, the light sandpapery stubble along his jaw brushing my cheek. I try to concentrate on something I know, training that comes easily to me. This close, I could so easily overpower him. I could use him as a hostage. They wouldn’t fire on one of their own. I’ve got no weapon, but I could probably break his neck if I had to, if I got the right leverage. His hand tightens around my wrist. I could—

The footsteps grow louder and louder. I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. Someone heads past our hiding spot—doesn’t pause. The footsteps continue, growing fainter this time.

He eases out of the alcove first, then tugs on my wrist to get me to follow. “There are families here,” he murmurs. “That was someone’s mother who just walked by. Think about that before you lead any of your people back here, okay?”

I pull my hand away, making him grit his teeth. In another lifetime, I think I could learn to enjoy pissing this guy off. In this lifetime, though, I don’t have the luxury. Instead, I gesture for him to lead the way—I’m not about to walk in front of him. If he were smart, he wouldn’t let me walk behind him. But either he trusts me, or he’s just that foolish. Probably both. He’d certainly have to be foolish to trust me.

I try to make a mental map as we go, but with the flickering, deceptive shards of light and the twists and turns, it’s impossible to keep track. No time to think about what it’ll mean for Romeo if I hand over whatever I can remember to my people.

If? If I hand it over? I need to get out of here. Now.

An endless series of corridors and crude staircases later, there’s a shift in the air—the slightly stale dampness turns fresher. We’re near the exit. This place is huge, far bigger than we’d guessed. I don’t understand how we could’ve missed it on our sweeps. Sure, their being underground would mean infrared wouldn’t pick them up, but surely a landmass this big would’ve been searched right away. They must have it camouflaged somehow.

Cormac peers down another corridor, then leads me into a vast underground harbor. A T-intersection of docks houses a small fleet of the little two-man boats the locals favor, and the sound of water lapping up against the sheet metal reminds me sharply of how dehydrated I am. At the far end of the cavern is the inky darkness of Avon’s overcast night sky.

After checking again that no one’s on our heels, Cormac heads for the boats. Each one is numbered, corresponding to a matching number along the dock. Easy to tell when one’s missing. I never would’ve found this place on my own—even assuming I could’ve somehow gotten out of my cell. If he hadn’t come for me…

Who cares? It’s his fault you’re here in the first place. Go. Just GO.

I find myself staring at him. “You’re really letting me go? This isn’t some kind of trick?”

“No tricks,” he replies, voice darkening a little as he drops his gaze to look over the boats. His shoulders drop, as though the weight of this choice is a tangible force threatening to crush him. “I’ll take you back to the base.”