by Erin Beaty
Alex nodded in agreement, and Sage felt relieved Charlie’s illness made it an easy decision.
“How about a dog?” asked Casseck. “It’s far, but not impossible.”
“They’re all sick now,” Gramwell said. “Apparently the illness affects them, too. We’re lucky they contacted the scouts early today.”
“How large is the gap in the grate?” Sage asked.
Gramwell rolled up his sleeve to show the marks he’d made on his arm. Casseck dug out a knotted cord to measure. “Looks like about seven inches high and a bit less than a foot wide.”
Sage laid the cord on the corner of the table to visualize the size. After a few seconds she looked up. “I can get through.”
Alex sighed. “I knew you were going to say that.”
Casseck and Gramwell exchanged glances but didn’t dare say anything.
“Maybe I should check on Charlie while you three discuss it,” she said. It would go better if she wasn’t there.
Without a word, Alex pointed to the side door and she ducked into the attached room. She knelt by Charlie’s cot and brushed sweaty hair from his forehead. His breathing was deep and regular, a sign he would be much better by morning. Alex’s sword lay on the bed next to Charlies’s, and she suddenly knew he’d been the one tending to his brother. There was only one other person he ever entrusted Charlie to, and that was her.
Alex pushed through the door and came to stand at Charlie’s feet, arms crossed. “I don’t like it.”
She didn’t look up. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Not yet. I just need time to think.”
“We’re out of time.” She pushed herself to her feet to face him. “I know how to move through the forest quietly and how to find my way at night. I can climb trees and rocks. No one will notice I’m gone until it’s too late—maybe even not at all. You can send me off before the evening count.”
“And when you run into one of D’Amiran’s sentries?”
“With the sickness there are fewer out there.” She raised her chin. “And you’ve taught me to fight. I can make it.”
His eyes narrowed. “One lesson doesn’t make you a warrior, just less helpless.”
“You brought me into this.” She crossed her arms to mirror his.
“I never should have.” He closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead. “You don’t need to punish me. I do that well enough myself.”
“This isn’t about you and me,” she said. “This is about what needs to be done and the only person who has a chance of doing it.”
“I know you hate me.” He dropped his hand and focused on her. For the first time she realized how tired he looked. Did he ever sleep? “But I can’t lose you, Sage. It would kill me.”
“Alex,” she said, and he flinched. That she’d never heard his name before last night made Sage wonder if anyone ever used it, and what that did to him. If everyone only ever called him “sir” or “Captain,” it would be easy to forget he was anything else. Had he taken the role of Mouse to escape that?
“I’m probably safer out there than in here tomorrow,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
His shoulders slumped, and she knew she’d won.
68
SAGE WATCHED ALEX brace his feet and bend down to grasp the carved stone lattice over the sewer drain. The thick grime around it came up with the cover, but she could see it had been removed recently, and clumps of dirt and moss pressed back in to hide the fact. It was very heavy, and he lifted and rotated it out of the way only as much as she needed to get through. Together they stared at the blackness below.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Alex asked.
“I’m the only one who has a chance of making it.”
He nodded without looking up from the hole. “You know the way through?”
“As well as I can.”
“And you know where to meet my scouts?”
“One point south of the pass.”
“And you have the knife I gave you?”
“Right where I can reach it.”
Alex turned her to him and grasped her by her elbows, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. She wasn’t sure who was shaking more. It was so easy to imagine he was Ash again, and she let herself think it, feel it. Sage closed her eyes and matched her breathing to his.
He raised one hand to sweep a few stray hairs to the back of her neck. “Let me say it one last time, Sage. Please.”
“No.” She pulled away, shaking her head. He wasn’t Ash, and she didn’t want to hear it.
He released her, hands dropping to his side. “Then let me say I’m s—”
“No,” she said again. It didn’t give her as much satisfaction as she thought it would to watch her words hit him like blows.
He opened his mouth again to say something, but then pressed his lips together and nodded.
“I’m ready,” she said, though she wasn’t.
Alex nodded and clasped her arms again, then lifted her up and lowered her slowly into the damp hole. “Got my feet,” she said when her boots touched the bottom of the tunnel, and he let go. The way his eyes searched told her he couldn’t see her in the shadows.
“If you’re in trouble, I swear I will never stop until I get to you,” he called softly.
Sage could’ve pretended she was already gone, but she couldn’t leave without answering.
“I know.”
69
SAGE CREPT THROUGH total darkness, feeling her way through the twists and turns Gramwell had described. She had to walk hunched over, sliding her feet through the frigid, slimy water. Occasionally she stumbled on stones or—worse—softer, unidentifiable objects. Fortunately, her toes were numb with cold after the first few minutes.
She tried not to think of him—Alex. Of his pleading eyes and his soft touch, of the way his hands shook as they released hers. Of his promise to abandon everything for her if she was in trouble. If the soldiers failed, she might never see him again. Or she might see him hanging from the top of the keep.
No matter how much she hated him, he didn’t deserve that.
She tripped on a protruding stone and clutched at what she hoped was a tree root growing through the wall to stay upright. The numbness in her fingers and toes seeped into her limbs. Was this what it was like to be dead—seeing and hearing and feeling nothing, wandering in the dark forever?
A glimmer of light shone on the walls ahead, and she stumbled toward it with a grateful sob. Another turn and the grate glowed at the end of the tunnel. A dozen steps more and she was gripping the bars, listening for insects and nocturnal creatures, concentrating to sort them from the echoes behind her. Nothing sounded disturbed.
Relieved, she felt along the vertical bars until she found the weak one. She yanked it free, letting loose a shower of dirt and rust. Her eyes caught her pale hands glowing in the moonlight, which inspired her to rub the grime onto her face, neck, and hands. It was like the day she met the matchmaker, only this time she was trying for the opposite effect. The thought made her smile a little, and she used it to focus on her task, like Alex needed her to.
Once satisfied with her camouflage, she crouched down and began to work her body through the largest gap in the metal grate, arms and head first, facedown. Being skinny and flat chested was finally an advantage. The sash she’d sewn together to hold the red blaze rested snugly against her waist and caused no problems. Her hips, however, were a different story.
Sage grunted and strained to squeeze them through, mentally grumbling that she should have brought a pound of butter to grease the way. She eased her breeches down a little and wriggled back and forth, painfully gaining another inch. The corroded metal bars scraped her exposed flesh, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out as she pushed with her toes and pulled with her arms. With a flash of agony, she surged out another foot, smacking her face on the rock she’d grabbed hold of and bashing her knees on the grate. Even with pain coming from so many places at once,
she gasped and groaned in relief.
But now she was wet all over, and muddy and bleeding to boot. Sage eased her legs the rest of the way out and pulled her breeches back to her waist. She sat up and looked at the tunnel, debating whether to bother replacing the bar. Instead she reached through the grate and pulled the rod out, hefting it in her hand. It wouldn’t hurt to have another weapon. Pausing once more to listen for signs of disturbance, she descended carefully down the embankment and headed southeast.
The rocky terrain and late spring made for less undergrowth, so Sage had little to slow her progress. Before long, she’d put about three miles between herself and the fortress and turned east along a steep rise when she sensed something was wrong—the forest was too quiet. Sage pressed her back against a tree and held her breath to listen. To her right, maybe forty yards away, a twig snapped in sharp protest of being stepped on.
She wasn’t alone.
She couldn’t hold her air in forever. As quietly as she could manage, Sage exhaled and inhaled several quick, shaky breaths, trying not to create large puffs of steam in the frigid air, though he surely knew where she was already. She gripped the rusty iron bar in her sweaty hands. Over her thudding heart, she heard the crushing of dry leaves. Closer.
Sage took a deep lungful of air and launched into a sprint along the ridge. A large shape crashed through the brush after her. Wind whipped past her ears as she ran faster than she ever had in her life, but she knew her wind wouldn’t last.
He was gaining on her.
She dodged between trees, gasping for breath and changing direction as often as she could spring off rocks. The moonlight made her able to see where she was going, but it also made it easier for him to follow. His panting was right behind her. A swerve to the left gave her a glimpse of a hand reaching for the hood of her jacket. Seconds later, fingers brushed against it.
Sage swung around and smashed the metal rod against his outstretched forearm. He yelled, and she heard bone snap, but her split second of triumph ended as she lost her footing and tipped backward, tumbling down the steep slope. Her makeshift weapon went flying as she tucked and rolled, covering her head and neck rather than trying to stop her fall. The man grunted in pain as he fell after her.
Sage bounced over bracken and rocks until she crash-landed against a log at the bottom of the ravine, knocking the wind completely from her body. She couldn’t breathe. For a panicked moment, she thought she’d never breathe again, but then blessed air surged into her lungs, shocking her with its cold burn. She gasped and coughed uncontrollably.
“You little bastard!” A large hand grabbed her hair from behind. Sage was yanked off her feet and hurled against a tree. Stars swam in her vision, and she felt her bound hair come loose. He let her fall to the ground on her hands and knees in front of him. She saw his foot come up just before it kicked her hard in the ribs, and she flipped onto her back on the sharp rocks. A moan of pain escaped her.
“Well, well, what have we here?” he taunted. “A little girl lost in the woods.”
Alex’s dagger pressed against the small of her back. By some miracle it hadn’t been lost. It wasn’t much of an act to whimper and reach for her bruised back. She just had her fingers on the hilt when the hulking shadow reached down to pick her up by her throat.
His breath stank and spittle landed on her face as he brought her up close. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. His Grace will make everything better.”
The stars—real and imagined—faded, replaced by expanding blackness as Sage pulled the dagger free of its sheath. She rammed it up and into the soldier’s exposed armpit with every ounce of force she could muster. The pressure on her neck eased just long enough for her to catch half a breath, and she wrenched the hilt to sweep the blade within. Hot blood spilled over her hand, and then a second gush told her she’d found the artery. The edges of her vision were going white as the hand finally released her, but it was too late, and Sage was falling—though she never knew if she hit the ground.
70
QUINN WATCHED THE time candle slowly burn away the night hours. Cass had gone to bed long ago, urging him to do the same, though his friend must have known it would be impossible for him to sleep. Silence was his companion, and Quinn embraced it, let it soak into him.
Silence meant Sage hadn’t been caught. Silence meant she was safe.
She hated him.
He’d made up his mind not to tell her again he loved her until she was ready, but he could be dead by this time tomorrow; and so he’d tried, but she would have none of it. That had hurt worse than the night he’d said it the first time, and that had nearly killed him.
He glanced at the candle. Three a.m.
Casseck said she would cool down, she’d forgive him in time, but Cass didn’t know her inner fierceness like he did, didn’t understand the pain and loss she’d suffered when her father died. She’d had no one for so long. He knew without a doubt he was the first person she’d trusted—loved—in years. That was the worst part: ruining the chance she might ever open herself up to anyone again. He could take the loss of his own happiness, but destroying hers was unbearable.
He shouldn’t have let her go. All the courage she possessed couldn’t make up for how small and fragile she was. Letting her go was a sign he either didn’t love her enough or that he’d never be able to deny her anything.
Four a.m.
She understood him better than anyone, so maybe that was in his favor. He’d told her his deepest fear—that he was a monster—and she’d refused to even consider it. Of course, that had been before he’d shown her the nonkilling side of that, his willingness to lie when necessary. To lie to her.
Sometimes people get hurt.
Ash had said it so casually, he hadn’t understood then to take it seriously. But it was worse than physical blows, worse than stab wounds and scars. He’d give anything to go back to that first night and start over. To see her smile wistfully and say, Alex is a nice name.
That’s what he was with her: Alex. Hearing her say his name tonight had uncovered what he hadn’t realized had been so deeply buried. Of all his friends, only Cass ever called him Alex anymore, and then only in private when he wanted to make a point. Even to Charlie he was the captain now. But with Sage he didn’t have to be always right or always in control. Or rather, he wouldn’t have to be. The few minutes he’d allowed himself to be totally unrestrained had been the best of his life, though he thanked the Spirit she’d called him Ash. Had that not brought him to his senses, the night would have ended differently, and she would never, ever have forgiven him. At least now he had a chance, slim as it was.
Five a.m.
In less than sixteen hours it would all be over. If Sage had gotten out, then it didn’t matter if he failed—if he died. The right people would know in time to have a chance of stopping the duke, and she would live. Sending her out had been the right thing to do. She was fierce and she was smart. And now she was safe.
He looked up as Casseck came into the room, rubbing his face. It didn’t look like he’d slept much. A look passed between them and Alex nodded. Cass smiled in relief. A minute later Charlie appeared, looking pale but almost fully recovered. This time yesterday he’d been in agony, and Alex had cleaned out every bucket Charlie filled as penance. Tonight would be the perfect time to strike.
The page went to fetch water so they could shave. Breakfast was cold stew and stale bread from last night—they’d cooked the rabbits the dogs had brought back. It was almost time for the morning muster with the duke’s captain, Geddes. Wouldn’t he be pissed to know who had slipped past his net? Alex smiled to himself as he changed into a clean shirt and combed his hair.
There was a heavy drizzle outside, meaning the pass would be cleared in time for the reinforcements to march through. All his soldiers had to do was damage D’Amiran enough that he couldn’t effectively close up the pass by the time they arrived. Thanks to Sage’s brilliant idea on taking out the barracks, he was more optimisti
c than ever.
The men filed into their ranks, and Geddes approached, sneering as he always did. Alex couldn’t help his own smirk on his own face as he nodded his greeting—he would never salute that ratty-eared bastard. “All my men are present or accounted for.”
The captain barely looked at the columns before him. “So I see.” He tugged his ear as he looked Alex over. “Long night? You look tired.”
“The roof of our quarters leaks like a sieve. It was hard to sleep with all the rain pouring in.”
“My profound apologies.” Geddes didn’t sound sorry at all. “It was a torturous night for me, too.”
Alex didn’t really care. Now that Sage was safe, he had work to do, staging everything for this evening. “If that’s all you have, then we’ll see you in a few hours for your next check.”
Geddes nodded and turned to go. Alex looked to Casseck and the lieutenant called the ranks to attention for dismissal. They hadn’t made any announcements this morning. Every man knew his part and where to go.
“Oh, Captain.” Geddes turned back. “I almost forgot. I found something you lost.” He dug around in his jacket, muttering, “It’s in here somewhere.”
Alex gritted his teeth while Geddes searched. The captain had waited for precisely that moment to inconvenience as many people as possible. The rain was soaking into Alex’s jacket, and he knew every man standing there had water dripping down his neck.
“Ah, here it is.”
There was no way Geddes could have lost an object that big in his jacket for a full minute—
No.
Sweet Spirit, NO.
Geddes held up a black-handled dagger for all to see. The gold initials in the hilt were covered in grime.
Alex’s knees began to buckle, but Cass was already grabbing his elbow and propping him up. “Steady,” his friend whispered.
He locked his legs in place as Geddes took a step toward him, offering the knife to him with a smile. Rain ran in dark trails down the blade as the grime washed away.