King and Kingdom by Danielle Bourdon Page A

Chey didn't tell me she was returning to Latvala.” Sander released Wynn's hand and pushed his own back into his coat pocket.
    “I know. It was a last minute kind of thing. Nice to meet you, too.” Wynn ramped up a smile, then gestured over her shoulder with a thumb. “Actually, I forgot our newspapers back at the cafe.” Wynn followed through with a turn and broke into a little jog the opposite direction.
    Relieved, Chey looked up at Sander to find him watching her again. “I think we have a lot left to say. Or I do, anyway. If you'll listen. That night at the--”
    An explosion rocked the day, coming from somewhere behind the line of shops near the water. Before Chey knew what happened, she found herself on the ground, Sander sprawled atop her.
    This was a familiar scenario.
    Instantly his expression was sharp and assessing, eyes darting up and down the street. Chey heard screams in the distance and saw people running from the shops, from trucks and other vehicles, toward the wharf.
    “Get inside and stay inside,” Sander said in a gruff voice. He got to his feet in a swift motion, bringing her with him.
    “But, Sander, wait--” Chey's protests fell on deaf ears. Sander was already running in the same direction as everyone else, cutting through a narrow alley between buildings for the docks.
    Chey disregarded his instruction and took off after him. Smoke curled through the air and the screams intensified. There had been some sort of horrible accident. She smelled gas, too, and burning rubber.
    “Chey! What was that?” Wynn was not far behind her, running for all she was worth.
    “I don't know!” Chey didn't need to look back to know that Wynn would keep up. Cutting down the alley, she was in time to see Sander bolt across a paved road and onto a wide dock. Beyond him, flames. Black smoke. People fleeing in all directions.
    Emerging from the alley, Chey came upon a scene of horror.
    A barge had impacted another boat, pushing it half onto the wharf and into a small seafood shanty that had collapsed and exploded. Men and women trapped on the barge, the damaged boat and beneath fiery debris from the shanty screamed for help. Sander shucked his coat on the run and threw it down over a man on fire, using his hands to roll him along a part of the wharf that wasn't burning.
    Wynn bumped into Chey with a startled gasp of shock, one hand flying to cover her mouth.
    In the next second, Chey bolted forward, aiming for the flailing, small arm of a child buried under a charred slab of wood.
    Every other minor worry and fear evaporated in the face of such disaster.
    All she could think about was reaching the child before it was too late.

Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    “Grab my hand! Hold on!” Chey kicked at the slab of wood smothering the child. She could hear tiny gasps for breath between screams. That the child was still alive after such trauma was a miracle. She doubled her efforts to get the wood off. Black pieces splintered away from her boot after another kick. Finally, the heavy piece fell away, clattering over the edge of the dock into the water.
    Blonde haired, with big blue eyes, the child—who was no more than five—stared up at Chey in terror. Burns made holes in the thick layers of clothes, blood oozed from a gash in her forehead and soot streaked her otherwise porcelain skin.
    Chey gathered the girl into her arms and wheeled away as a sharp crack sounded under her feet. This section of dock was ready to go. Stumbling, Chey got her balance and ran toward a knot of Latvala citizens setting up a trauma area for victims. People were still streaming in from businesses and nearby homes, bringing blankets, dry clothing, food. It was a concerted effort, with other men and women charging down onto the docks to help save lives.
    Several women took the child from Chey's arms, rattling off what sounded like words of gratitude in their mother tongue. Turning back, Chey took stock: one barge, a trawler and half the dock