Such a Daring Endeavor by Cortney Pearson

white blurs.
    The door behind her crashes open. Duncan advances, but I dash forward to meet him with a spurt of magic, knocking him back.
    “You’ll pay for this. For all of it,” Gwynn calls from behind me.
    But she doesn’t send Duncan after me. She doesn’t make any kind of threatening advance. I turn, and her light green eyes capture mine, softening for a flicker in time, and the reality of what just happened pounds straight through me.
    She was supposed to kill me but she didn’t. She won’t leave with me now. But there is still hope.
    “I’m not giving up on you,” I say through heavy breaths. Her scowl deepens. “Tell Tyrus that, if you want.”
    I gesture to her dazeblade still lying on the floor. And with her attention diverted, I slip out the door.

R en gritted his teeth at the painful, shredding feeling, and it was just as Ayso warned. His duplicate took form—even pushed him down!—and tried to run for it. But Ren was faster. With intense concentration, Ren caught the replica by the back, rammed it down instead, and bolted as the soldiers moved in.
    His own screams follow him now, but he runs toward the Tapestry Hall, counting swiftly as he goes. One, two three, four, he ducks beneath the fifth tapestry, a depiction of a golden tree woven with thick growth twining up like tiny birds waiting for their meal. The stony wall ices his back, cold and secluded from the windows at either end of the hall. He presses his fingertips at either side, his pulse hammering.
    He hears the soldiers’ taunts, the sounds of their fists hitting flesh.
I’m so glad I’m not feeling this right now.
He wonders if the replica feels it, but soon it won’t matter. Soon the illusion will fade.
    Ren slides along, feeling for the notch he described to Ambry. Finally, his fingers hit the small variance and press. Just as he knew it would, the stone gives way under his touch, slowly and soundlessly, and he darts into the darkness before it closes again.
    Blackness hits him on every side. Small slivers of light spoke through arrow notches in the stone, and Ren waits for his eyes to adjust. Time passes; more time than he likes. Ren begins reciting the gatekeeper pledge in his head—a fallback habit he resorted to whenever he had to stand for long periods of time waiting for Tyrus.
    Magic for the people, not for control
, he narrates in thought.
Secrecy is vital, trust above all. Hands alone can rescue, hands alone can save. I pledge to use my hands for good, to conceal that which is most grave.
    Minutes pass, and by the time he’s made it through three rounds of recitation, the impatience nagging at him blooms to full-on worry.
    “Come on, Ambry,” he whispers, catching his breath. “Come on.”
    A sense of unease holds him back. He can’t leave without his sister. Did she get lost?
    I told her which tapestry and where to push,
he tells himself, though it’s not as reassuring as he hoped. The Triad is huge—it took him weeks to figure out his way through the various halls.
    His Illusio worked, so where is Ambry? Did she drink it in time? He could go back out, try to find her, help her if he can. But the soldiers recognized him—and hurt his illusion, from the sound of it. It would be like handing himself over.
They know we’re here now,
he thinks.
No doubt Tyrus will amp up the security and begin searching.
If that’s the case, he can’t stand around waiting. There’s nothing for it. He’s got to keep going.
    The stairwell curves downward and he takes the stairs faster, not noticing the faint light crawling in his direction from a branching corridor until the figure draws too near for him to step away. He completes the curve and nearly collides with, not a soldier, but a girl.
    Ren catches himself for a moment. She’s short, managing to be both muscular and curvy at once. He’d have to be eyeless not to notice her smooth complexion and big, dark eyes, the way her hair is piled up in two buns atop her head. She