Chapter 26 · The Queen Lives

"You're dripping on the floor." Eliza's breath hitched as Valen lowered her behind the broken sarcophagus. Three arrows jutted from her shoulder, ribs, and thigh. Their shafts trembled with every breath.

"That's probably bad," she whispered.

"It's worse than bad." Valen pressed his palm against her side. Blood soaked through the torn silk and coated his fingers. Above them, boots scraped over the broken arena floor.

Gareth's voice carried through the hole in the ceiling. "Get ropes. I want them alive. If they resist, break their legs."

Eliza's eyes narrowed. "He sounds worried."

"He should be."

"You can barely stand."

Valen's ribs throbbed where the guards had kicked him. His throat still burned from the noose. He ignored both and slid one arm beneath Eliza's knees.

"Don't pull the arrows," she said.

"I won't."

"And don't drop me."

"I wasn't planning to."

"You make a lot of plans for a man bleeding through his shirt."

He lifted her. Her teeth clenched around a cry, and her fingers locked around his shoulder.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Liar."

"Keep talking."

"Bossy bastard."

"Good. You're awake."

Valen carried her into the passage behind the sarcophagus.