Such a Daring Endeavor by Cortney Pearson Page A

wears a sash across her chest equipped with throwing knives, of all things. She holds a small light in her right hand.
    “Hey,” he says, as if this is the most normal way to meet someone.
    The girl snarls, locks his arm behind his back and twists him around, smashing his face to the cool stone wall. Her free palm pats along his body, from his waist, to the middle of his thighs and on down to his ankles.
    “Hey,” Ren says again, far less friendly than before.
    “You’re no soldier,” she says in an odd, but striking accent, releasing him almost instantly.
    Ren pushes himself away from the wall, free from her grip. “Neither are you,” he says, using it as an excuse to rake his gaze down to her knees and back. She notices his interest and rolls her eyes.
    “I let you do that, by the way,” he goes on. He adjusts his shirt, the imprint of her arm lingers between his shoulder blades.
    She cocks an eyebrow. “Let me do what?”
    “Thrust me up against the wall with such passion.” He doesn’t fight the smile that accompanies this statement.
    She moves up a step, eyes narrowing. Even one step higher she’s still much shorter than he is. “That was not passion. And it’s clear you’re no threat. You’re wasting my time.”
    She begins to descend once more. With a grin, Ren follows, keeping pace with her. At the foot of the steps, he plans to take the left bend. She takes it first. Where he planned on taking the next right, she takes it. She heads down the corridor and a few more flights of extremely narrow stairs, the air growing draftier as he remains only a few paces behind.
    He glances back. This is pretty far down—maybe he should wait for Ambry. But if she’s been captured, their best bet at this point is to rescue Haraway as planned, then go back for her—
    Before he knows it, the short girl bars his way with one hand on either side of the stone wall and glowers up at him, dim light emitting from her right hand.
    “Stop following me,” she orders, her dark eyes glimmering.
    “While I’d be the first to admit you’re even prettier in the shadows,” says Ren, “I’m not following you.”
    “Oh no? Then what do you call this?” She gestures around her.
    “A stairway,” says Ren. “And the way to the dungeons, where I’m currently headed.”
    The girl glares at him. After several long moments of obvious examination, she concludes, “Whatever your business down here is, keep your nose out of mine.”
    “My nose didn’t have any such notion,” Ren assures as she scampers down the final few steps and down a wider corridor. This time Ren wards off down the left fork. The stench grows thicker here, body odor and human excrement wafting through.
    Ren isn’t sure how to go about this—he’s seen Haraway on the news, but isn’t sure he’ll recognize him. By the time Ren was taken, Talon Haraway already abandoned his post as Tyrus’s second man, a feat which Tyrus will never let Talon live down.
    Ren remembers when Tyrus returned with the tears and entrusted them to Gwynn’s care. Ren had never seen the Arcaian leader so angry, but he knew it had something to do with Haraway and his betrayal. Tyrus ranted and raved about it after Gwynn returned without the tears several nights ago, throwing things, screaming at him over it, how he sacrificed everything to get Talon here, how he took the boy into his care and appointed him as his second, and how Talon had thrown it all away over something petty like duty.
    I’d think duty would be an impressive priority
.
    The stench hits him afresh, dank and foul with sweat and muck. A thick metal door lays propped open with a melon-sized rock at its base. Black stones mark the path between metal bars lining both sides of the dungeon wall.
    A single guard, robust and bulging like Micro but with black hair pulled back at the nape of his neck, reaches for the blade in his leather belt. The girl from the stairs dashes forward out of nowhere, kicking the guard