Instead of pocketing it, as he thought she would, she moved to the burning torch one of the guards had slid into a bracket on the wall.
She hesitated a moment, looking back at the guard. “I'm so tempted to leave it, but my grandmother always said we should be careful to never leave deliberate traps, lest they come to haunt our dreams.” She dropped the fabric into the flame and then pulled the cloak around herself.
Luc stared at the sudden flare of light as the fabric caught in the fire and then rolled Garmand to the side to get his cloak off him.
“What was that all about?” he asked as he pinned it at his throat and then chose the middle guard for his boots, as they looked like the most likely to fit him. “Why are they scared of you?”
She was straightening her disguise and her lips twisted in a wry smile. “The Herald told them stories about me. To keep them from befriending me.” She lifted the hood of the cloak and looked down at the three bodies on the ground. “That didn't go as I thought it would, but the result is the same. We are alive, and they are dead.”
When her gaze lifted and rested on him, he felt the weight of it. He was being evaluated afresh.
“You didn't behave as I thought.” Her voice was a low murmur. “But that is neither of our faults. We don't know each other well, and have never fought together before.” She inclined her head as if absolving him of something. “And you don't know my training or my skills.” She shrugged. “We will do better next time.”
Better?
Luc stared around the room. As she said, they were alive, the enemy was dead.
That's as good as it got.
She turned and started walking back down the passage, and he noticed a slight hitch in her step as she passed her mother's chamber.
“The general ordered them down here, so there will be others coming to check on them when they don't report back.”
She was right, and he set after her at a fast clip, leaving the dead behind him.
Chapter 5
It was the perfect time to escape.
Dusk had settled over the fortress in all its dark blue-and-gray shadowed glory, with the bright pink and orange of the sunset high in the sky an extra distraction.
Ava led the way, although it had been some time since she had been allowed through the halls and passageways of the building. Those occasions had been early on in her incarceration, when Herron had wanted her brought to him while he sat in pomp and circumstance, to show all around him, but especially her, that he was the one in charge.
Being dragged down the stairs into Herron's presence had stopped abruptly after six months, and she had always wondered if word had gotten out about her presence here—rumors or gossip—because of the many eyes on her in those audiences with the Herald.
Now she wondered if it was because her mother was being held below, and he didn't need to intimidate her anymore.
Whatever the reason, she remembered most of the twists and turns.
The time of day meant most people were either preparing for the evening meal or ending their work, and she and Luc were able to slip through the jostle of people moving in and out of the many entrances.
She had lifted the hood of the cloak and kept her head down. If anyone looked closer, she hoped the short, cropped style of her hair would look similar to some of the younger recruits who were shaved completely when they were inducted, to prevent the spread of lice.
Luc was a silent shadow at her heels.
She didn't know how someone so big could be so silent, and she thought of her careful plans, ruined by him earlier, and almost shook her head.
She hoped the guard she'd spelled was about to turn on his own friends. If it had worked, Luc could have easily mopped up the leftovers, but instead he'd struck the weapon she'd created down first, rendering him useless.
Her mother had always insisted that only black silk could be used, but she had used her own hair when Herron had taken her thread away, and it had worked fine. So well, he kept her hair shaved ever since.
If Luc had waited just another moment, she would have known if the plain cotton she'd used on the guard had worked, too.
She forced herself to relax and unclench her jaw.
It had ended well, and unless she planned to tell him what she had done, she should be grateful they’d escaped without her having to explain anything away.
She might still have to explain the wound she had stitched. But maybe not.
He might not notice the improvements.
She didn't have enough experience to know if the results of her needlework faded over time. She had always assumed they did, but everything she'd ever created had been taken from her or destroyed, so she had no way of knowing.
Her grandmother's things had lasted a very long time, but as she'd seen with the unpicked cloak wrapped around her mother's body, even that could be undone.
And her mother . . . her mother had had a fear of her own power and strength, and had tried to chain Ava's, as well. She had never worked anything unless there was no other choice.
It had taken Ava years to work out her mother had been kidnapped when she was young. Ava's grandfather had rescued her before her captors had reached their destination, but it had made her mother cautious beyond normal bounds. Whatever had happened to her on the road had had a profound effect on her.
Even as a child, Ava had understood her mother balanced on the knife-edge of fear, lifting and setting down needlework over and over, without making a single stitch.
Her father's response had been to soothe his wife, and order the servants to pack her sewing away.
To Ava, he told her to learn what she could without her mother, and out of her mother's sight. There would always be those who would try to use her, and the more she understood about herself, the less they could.
Her grandmother had begged Ava's mother to allow her to show Ava what she could do, but her mother had been too afraid for Ava to accept.
Ava had heard many arguments about it, but in the end, her grandmother had loved her daughter too much to go against her wishes and risk alienating her.
Ava recalled the happy times spent on her grandparents' estate were marred only by the look of agony in her grandmother's eyes when she had taken up her sewing in the evening and sent Ava to bed.
“Stables.” Luc's voice, low and rumbling, lifted her out of her musings with a jerk.
The stables must be ahead of them, she could smell them.
“You want to steal a horse?” she asked.
“Two horses, unless you can't ride?” His breath was warm against her cheek.
“It has been a long time since I sat on a horse, but I can ride.”
“Good.”
“How are we going to leave with two of their horses?” Now they were in the open air, she most definitely didn't want to go back. And they were very far from home free.
“I'll think of something, and if it's not going to work, we'll leave the horses and walk out,” he promised, and took the lead for the first time.
She relinquished control to him for now, as she was no more familiar than he was about this part of the fortress.
The weather was cool enough outside that it didn't look strange that the hoods of their cloaks were lifted. It made her feel less exposed.
She followed him to a long, low building that was well maintained and busy. Guards rode up in groups of two or three and swung down from steaming mounts, giving them to grooms to lead away.
A group of soldiers stood together, laughing and calling to the guards coming in, exchanging information and details of their patrols.
Luc was probably fighting a smile of satisfaction at the wealth of information swirling around them, light and easy as the evening breeze.
He was too big to miss, and she had worried he would stand out, but he moved with such confidence, even with his cloak wrapped close around him to hide the fact that he had no shirt. His stride was sure, even though she knew his stolen boots were too small.
No one gave him more than a glance as he disappeared into the gloom of the stables.
She was just behind him, but as she reached the wide double doors she saw Juni, blocking their way.
His gaze was fixed on Luc, his mouth open to form his first shout.
Her heart gave a hard, painful thump in her chest, but she didn't hesitate. She pushed in front of Luc, felt the warmth of him as he crowded right up against her.
She held Juni's gaze, lifted her hand, and mimed turning a key.
Juni stared at her hand, and his mouth shut with a snap. He wanted to sound the alarm, but he lived in a brutal system that punished people harshly for no logical reason at all, let alone when punishment was actually warranted. He needed a reminder that he'd been where he wasn't supposed to be.
That he would be safer—personally safer—if he hadn't seen them escape after being down in the dungeons without permission.
He skirted around them, stepping out into the courtyard, and she heard him hail someone, his voice only a little infirm.
Behind her, Luc turned, keeping Juni in view, and then his hands came up onto her shoulders.
“Good job.” Luc's head dipped so his mouth was almost touching her ear. “I thought he was going to start screaming.”
“He may still,” she murmured. “If he has time to think about it.”
“Stand against the wall, keep to the shadows,” Luc told her, and then disappeared amongst the confusion of the horses being led in and out, the shouts of the stable hands.
When he returned, he was leading a horse that was saddled and rolling its eyes as it pranced sideways.
She fell into step with him as the last call of the day went up, the final warning for those not staying in the fortress overnight to leave.
Luc didn't mount up—even he must know his size on top of a horse would draw the eye—so Ava kept close to his side as they joined the flow of people streaming out of the gates.
It was easy enough to let the crowd sweep them under the arch of the drawbridge and onto the muddy road to freedom.
As soon as they were far enough from the gate that the torchlight no longer touched them, Luc led them off the road and into the shielding wall of trees.
Ava drew in her first full breath in a while, realizing she hadn't taken one until now. She tucked her cloak closer around her, her nose wrinkling at the smell of it. “They'll find we're missing any moment now.”
“Agreed.” Luc swung up onto the horse, held his hand out for her.
She looked at the saddle dubiously, but took his hand, let him pull her up so she was behind him.
The horse shifted uncomfortably beneath them, and she felt sorry for it.
It was in for a hard run with two riders.
Without another word, Luc urged it on.
She had to bite her lip to stop from shouting as they surged forward, as the trees flashed past them.
She was free at last.
Chapter 6
The chase began far sooner than Luc had hoped.
Perhaps Juni hadn't been able to help himself. He'd struck Luc as a man who had to be at the center of things, so he may have made an excuse to check on the prisoners so that he could sound the alarm.
Whatever the reason, the dogs baying in the distance gave Luc fair warning.
At his back, Ava stirred, straightening up and lifting away from him, making him suddenly aware of how close she had been pressed against him before.
“Hounds?” she asked, her voice fuzzy with sleep.
“Hounds and men.” They would be hunted like deer.
She gave a groan, so exasperated, he couldn't keep his lips from twitching.
Then she swore. “My head rag is gone. It must have fallen out of my pocket. Can I have one of your bindings?” She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Just a small scrap would be fine.” Her hands were loosely clasped about his waist, and she lifted them to smooth down one of his arms.
Her touch was gentle, trying not to hurt him, and it sent a wave of goosebumps over his skin. He had to suppress a shiver of reaction, holding still as she unwound one of the blood-stained bandages.
“You think dropping it will slow the hounds?” It wasn't a bad idea.
“Yes, but I need to do something to it first.” Her hands left him altogether, and she seemed to lean back, working on something.
“Should I stop the horse?”
“No. We don't have time. I'm nearly done.” The last word was said as if she spoke with something held between her lips, and then she tossed the bandage down on the ground.
“It might delay the dogs for a few minutes while they stop to sniff it. But not long enough.” After all, it would just confirm to the hunters they were on the right track.
“A short while is better than nothing.”
He couldn't argue with that, and he urged the horse faster, aware it was beginning to lag, and, he was afraid, to limp.
Less than half an hour later, it began to walk, and then stopped altogether.
He wanted to rage, but instead he sighed and slid off.
Ava stared down at him—her expression hard to read.
“I don't know if I can get down,” she said at last.
He caught her as she toppled off.
She felt light in his arms, warm and delicate, and an urge to bury his head in her hair and hold her close swept over him, so strong he almost gasped before he released her, flexing his hands in shock.
Unaware of his struggle, she turned and leaned against the horse, sliding a hand down its flanks. “Sorry, sorry,” she murmured to it. “You got a raw deal with us.”
She tried to straighten, staggered a little, and he moved her aside to unclip the horse's reins and let it move as it wished.
They would have to leave it here, and hope it found its way back to the fortress.
When he turned, he found Ava was still standing where he'd left her, swaying slightly.
“They're coming.” Her voice was a little raw.
“Yes, but the horse can't go any more.”
She nodded, then sank to the ground, head bowed. “Just need a moment,” she whispered.
The dogs bayed in the distance, and he scooped her up as he tried to work out the lay of the land.
The ground was undulating, gentle rises and falls, covered in a thick forest. There was plenty of cover, but the dogs would find them.
Feeling helpless, he walked to the largest tree he could find, leaning against the trunk.
They could hide, but it would do no good.
And they couldn't outrun dogs and horses. Not in their current condition.
Ava rubbed her cheek against his shoulder as he sat down and settled her across his lap, and then crinkled her nose.
“They smell, don't they?” she muttered as he pulled her close and tucked his cloak around them both.
“What?” His voice cracked. He would fight when they came, but he needed a moment to rest. Just to sit quietly with Ava in his arms for a little while.
“The cloaks. They stink. I wish we didn't need them.”
He hadn't noticed. He had lived in places where it was a benefit not to notice these things.
Ava's breathing changed, deepened, and he realized she had fallen asleep, a hand resting limp against his bare chest under his cloak.
He didn't move, not wanting to disturb her until he had to.
He leaned back and listened to the barking dogs and then, as they came closer, the thudding hooves of the horses, the shouts of the men.
He knew the moment they'd found the horse.
“Fuck.”
“I told you.” The voice sounded aggrieved. “My dogs never steer me wrong.”
“The hoof marks clearly led in this direction.” Someone sounded defensive now.
“But they weren't on the horse, were they? The dogs said they went east thirty minutes back.”
There was silence.
“It seems your dogs may have been right, but it was necessary to check,
anyway.” The voice speaking now had to be the general, Luc thought.
No one had anything else to say once he'd spoken.
“Well, let's give the dogs the lead.” It was an order, not a suggestion, and the whole stampede of them moved away, the sound fading into the distance.
The dogs must have tried to go east when they found the bandage.
Luc couldn't understand why, couldn't understand how, but they were safe.
Ava had slept through the whole thing, turned into him, as if she couldn't get close enough.
He was a warrior raised in a Chosen camp—he could sleep anywhere, anytime. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth and weight of her against him.
The absolute silence that had fallen at the arrival of the dogs and men slowly faded, and the rustles and noise of the forest resumed.
For the moment, they were safe.
Her working had . . . well, worked.
Ava smiled against Luc's chest as she remembered her grandmother telling her once the point of a working was for it to work, so to be sure her intention was carefully and thoughtfully done. It was not in the spirit of her agreement with Ava's mother, but no actual sewing had been done.
She hadn't had the time or the conditions for something elegant, but the few stitches she'd embroidered into the blood-soaked bandage must have been enough.
She wondered if the blood had helped. Strengthened the suggestion to the hounds that the way they needed to go was to the east.
Or perhaps the strength of the blood was merely its effect on her. It had made her determined no more of that blood should be spilled.
She would have to experiment and see which it was.
And now she was free, she could do so.
She wanted to be as powerful as she could be when she found Herron and finished him.
He had left her mother to starve to death, had taken her father's life. Kept Ava herself a prisoner for years.
There was a reckoning to be had.
Luc woke with a start, almost tipping her from his lap, and then tightening his arms around her in reaction.
“They passed us by.” Ava looked up at him, and he gave a slow nod.
Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology Page 5