Page 69 of The Threads Between

“Adeline,” Marigold breathed, reaching for her.

“I am quite well,” Adeline insisted, though the words were thin. Composed in a way that made the weakness more obvious.

Another tremor moved through her legs, and she sank down onto one knee. We all stopped. The muffled thunder of boots overhead felt closer now, more immediate—a reminder that time was not elastic.

Mira was already moving.

“Do not attempt gallantry,” she murmured, kneeling beside Adeline. Her hands glowed faintly gold as she pressed them over the worst of the burns. “You are still healing.”

“Walking is necessary,” Adeline said quietly.

“I am not disputing that,” Mira replied. “I am merely informing you that your body does not share your conviction.”

The light from Mira’s palms deepened, threads of gold slipping beneath the damaged skin like fine stitching. The scent of something clean and bright filled the narrow passage. Adeline’s breathing eased slightly, though sweat still gathered along her brow.

“There,” Mira said after a moment. “It will help some, but you have lost too much strength.”

Adeline attempted to stand. Her knees buckled again.

Before she could protest, Garrick stepped forward.

“I’ve got her.”

He bent and swept her up as though she weighed nothing at all, one arm beneath her knees, the other braced securely around her back. The movement was not dramatic. It was certain.

Adeline stiffened in instinctive objection. “Garrick, that is entirely unnecessary⁠—“

“It is entirely necessary,” he answered evenly. “And you will conserve what strength remains.”

Marigold hovered beside them, pale but steady, her hand brushing briefly against Adeline’s shoulder as if to reassure herself she was still there.

Mira rose slowly, a flicker of exhaustion passing across her features before she mastered it.

“She must not walk,” Mira said quietly to August. “Not until she has rested properly.”

August nodded once.

Another tremor rippled through the earth above us—boots crossing directly overhead now. We slowed instinctively. The lanterns flickered. No one spoke. Even Garrick’s breathing seemed to quiet as he adjusted his hold on Adeline, careful not to jar her injured hands.

After a long moment, the thunder of movement shifted away.

Only then did we continue.

The tunnel began to slope upward at last. Faint air drifted toward us from ahead—cooler, tinged with river and soot.

Beatrice slowed, studying the passage ahead. “We could wait here,” she said quietly. “Let the sweep pass completely before emerging. It would be safer.”

“No.” Mira's voice was firm. She glanced at Adeline, still cradled in Garrick's arms, her face grey with exhaustion and pain. “She needs proper rest. Clean bandages. A place where I can work without dampness and dirt compromising the healing.” Her jaw tightened. “This tunnel won't keep her alive if infection sets in.”

Beatrice studied Adeline for a long moment, then nodded once. “Then we keep moving.”

Behind us, somewhere in Clerkenwell, doors were being broken. Names were being demanded. Homes overturned in the name of order. Ahead of us lay uncertainty. But uncertainty, I was learning, was preferable to surrender.

CHAPTER 21

AUGUST

The yard was empty. That, more than anything, unsettled me. The river moved sluggishly to our left, fog hanging low over the water, unmoving. Warehouses stood in silent rows, brick facades streaked with soot and time. No boots. No voices. No waiting carriage.