“You coming?” she asked over her shoulder. “It’s cramped down there; a poor place to make a stand.” Sicarius’s gaze drifted toward her, then toward the windows and up the stairs, as if he sought an alternative. The creature slammed against the door. A hinge popped off. Wood splintered. Only the bar kept the door standing. And that would not hold long. “Fine,” Amaranthe said. “Let me know how it goes up here.” She grabbed the lantern and climbed down the ladder.
