Read The Select's Bodyguard (Children of the Wells - Bron & Calea Book 1) for Free Online Page B

yes,” Calea says. “And what do they say about the magic?”
    The man squirmed. “Nothing, except that it’s gone.”
    “And where has it gone?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Exactly. That is the vital question. If you’d get out of my way, I’ll be determining the answer to that as soon as I can walk properly.”
    “Is our spoke intact?” I ask. If we can’t get to the Academy from Tower Three, I may be able to dissuade Calea from the journey altogether.
    “I’ve been told it’s dangerous. I haven’t seen it myself. I know some of the other spokes are completely gone. I watched number four collapse.”
    “It’ll be fine. Bron here is strong,” Calea says, forcing a wretched smile. “It’s about all he’s good for. He’ll get me there.”
    The man is older than Calea but obviously recently graduated, still used to obeying, probably below 50 Falsan in skill. Calea, on the other hand, commands. You can see clearly the moment when he realizes he’s out of his depth. “Of course,” he says quickly. He turns, walking away uncertainly.
    She looks at me. “I’m not turning back. My lab contains the largest collection of batteries in the city, outside the factory. This may not be Thyrion, as everyone’s so fond of saying, but Jalseion isn’t Paradise, either. I’ll protect what’s mine.”
    As we head down again, I can feel my focus slipping. I think clearest with a single goal. Calea muddies all that. I need to protect her. I want to remove her from this place. But she needs her limbs, so I’m forced to either protect her physically or aid her in the way she needs most, which is repairing her arm and leg.
    Worse, she’s already convinced herself she’s heading to the Academy not for intensely personal reasons but to protect scientific property. In another twenty minutes, she’ll say she’s doing it for the good of the city.
    My body drags. Adrenaline drove me to the eighteenth floor, pushed me to the Column, but now the immediate danger has passed. I feel empty.
    “Faster, Bron. I want to be away from all these people.”
    Faster, Bron. New goal--the Academy, before the citizens mob the Towers, before the last spoke collapses, before the batteries are stolen. To protect Calea, I must repair her. That is enough for now.
    I move quickly, nearly dragging Calea along, narrowly avoiding lifting her off the ground. I no longer want to speak with the others. They will present other options, additional needs.
    I’ve chosen Calea. I will not choose another.
    We enter the main hall. It’s a disaster. We take roundabout passages, mostly staying on level ground. Twice we navigate heaps of broken masonry, Calea stubbornly at my side, cursing beneath her breath. I stop once to move debris and dig a path through. When we finally reach the spoke and see the sky again, it is early evening.
    I set Calea against the decorative wrought iron that acts as a barrier between the road leading to the Academy and the Well below. Calea is pale and can hardly catch her breath. Her injuries are superficial, but her body has been pushed beyond its normal limits. I watch her discreetly as I study the road before us. She is thin, almost frail. I have always thought her weaker than she presented herself, but now she looks broken, like a doll thrown in a corner. “We’ll keep moving after a moment’s rest,” I say. She will not want me to think her weak, but I will delay for more than a moment.
    The road itself, two lanes plus wide avenues for walking on either side, seems sturdy enough. Ahead I can see some gaps, but I think we will manage if we keep an eye out. The trees lining the avenues are half bare, green trees with naked branches. The land is harsh away from the wells, verdant within its reach. What happens now?
    I can see most of the Towers, too, or what is left of them. Three have completely collapsed. Tower Six stands nearly intact. Tower Five leans precariously over the Well, rooms open to the pit below.
    It is