Free Sovereign by Ted Dekker

shoulder blades. She would not have ready access to it—the knives would have to suffice until she got clear of the city.
    Except for her scent, which couldn’t be covered up without the use of other strong odors that would only attract their own attention, she might pass for any common Corpse.
    She slung the pack over her shoulders, grabbed a pair of dark glasses, and headed for the tunnel to the surface. There, she would have to contend with the first-watch guard, after which word of her departure would spread like fire. First Rom and now Jordin, gone to the wolves.
    They wouldn’t be wrong on either account.
    She pushed back the sudden onset of doubt and ran toward theexit, already sweating beneath her tunic. The tunnels were rougher here, unevenly cut, less care taken in the excavation of the caverns so many years ago than in the painstaking labor put into their original carving millennia before.
    A form stood up from behind an outcrop of rock, startling her. Kaya. She’d forgotten the girl’s habit of reading alone. Now she saw the faint glow of lamplight, barely visible in the flicker of the nearest torch.
    “Jordin?” The seventeen-year-old girl eyed her with suspicion. “What’s wrong?”
    “Everything.” A beat. “Nothing.”
    “Where are you going? To the surface?”
    “Yes.”
    “To find Rom?”
    “No. No questions, Kaya.”
    “It’s day above.”
    “I know. That’s why I’m dressed like a Corpse. And that’s why you won’t spread alarm—it’s the last thing we need now.”
    Kaya watched her with round eyes, the faint glow of light catching her high cheekbones. Jordin couldn’t help but notice the beauty the girl had grown into. Six years ago Jonathan had found her, dirty and locked in a cart bound for the Authority of Passing. He had snatched her from death then, and she’d followed him with a devotion that rivaled Jordin’s own.
    Of them all, it was perhaps Kaya who maintained the most childlike love for Jonathan.
    But clearly, Kaya was no longer a child. She might not be able to fight with the same skill Jordin did, but she loved as well. There were no more eligible men her age among the remaining Sovereigns—Jordin had always thought to help her find and seroconvert a handsome Corpse from Byzantium.
    None of that mattered now.
    “You’re going to find Jonathan,” Kaya said.
    Jordin ignored the comment and made to pass, her mind on the wastelands already. Getting to them would be no easy task; she would only have one shot before the alarm went out or she found herself in real trouble.
    “Rom went to find Feyn, and now you’re going to find Jonathan! That’s it, isn’t it?”
    She rounded on Kaya, eager to shut her down. “Don’t be absurd! And don’t spread any rumors or get anyone’s hope out of balance.”
    Kaya frowned, unconvinced. “No need to snap at me. If you’re not going to find Jonathan or go after Rom, then where are you going?”
    “Kaya…. look, I wish I could tell you more, I just can’t. You’ve put your faith in Jonathan; keep it there, in him, not in me. I’m doing what I must, that’s all.”
    “You’re leaving us,” Kaya said. “You’re going to find Jonathan, and you’re not coming back unless you do.” Her voice was thick with emotion.
    On one count, Kaya was right. Jordin might not see her again—or any of them, for that matter. Jordin swallowed past the lump in her throat and clasped Kaya by her shoulders, drawing her close and embracing her.
    “I have to go, Kaya. Don’t lose faith. Beg the Maker on my behalf.”
    “Let me come with you.”
    “You can’t go where I’m going.”
    Before Kaya could push the matter, Jordin snatched the torch from the wall, dipped into a side tunnel, and took the rising stone steps in pairs. Then she extinguished the flame, drew a deep breath, and pushed aside the heavy, filthy canvas that obscured the entrance. She stepped into shadow; a thick screen of brush blocked most of the clouded sky