“You think it’s safer to work around oversexed nobles?”
“Where are we going?” Uly asked.
“Shh,” Kylar said as they approached another intersection. The hallway they had been following led to the kitchens. From the raucous voices there, though, that wasn’t the way to take Elene and Uly. The door to the right was locked, and the hall left was clear.
Kylar pulled out his picks, risking the possibility of someone stepping out of the kitchens. He didn’t like the idea of following the path of least resistance.
The lock came open quickly, but something heavy had been wedged against the door on the other side. Probably a servant had done his best to block it during the coup.
“Where are we going?” Uly asked again.
Kylar had known her cuteness would grate on him; he’d just hoped it would take longer than this. He let Elene hush her this time.
With his Talent, he could kick through the door and whatever was blocking it—but the noise would bring whoever was in the kitchens, and Kylar felt a sense of urgency. He didn’t want to leave the girls here while he scouted.
“Left,” he whispered.
This corridor twisted and rose up several flights of steps. Kylar heard the jingling of mail and the slap of feet in hobnailed boots behind them.
“Hurry!” he said. The men behind them were moving at a slow jog, so they weren’t chasing escaped prisoners but just responding to orders. Kylar dropped back to the staircase and caught a brief glimpse of at least twenty men.
He ran to catch up with Elene and Uly. They were passing doors, and heedless of who might hear, Kylar started testing the latches. Every one was locked.
“Why are we going to the throne room?” Uly asked.
Kylar stopped. Elene stared at Uly, looking as surprised as he felt. “What?” he asked.
“Why are we going—”
“How do you know where we’re going?” Kylar asked.
“I live here. Mother’s a maid. Our room’s just—”
“Uly, do you know a way out? A way that doesn’t go to the throne room? Quick!”
“I’m not supposed to come up here,” she said. “I get in trouble.”
“Dammit!” Kylar said. “Do you know a way out or not?!”
She shook her head, frightened. That would have just been too easy, wouldn’t it?
“Great with children, aren’t you?” Elene said. She touched Uly’s cheek and squatted on her heels to look her in the face. “Have you come up here, Uly?” Elene asked gently. “We won’t be angry if you have, I promise.”
But Uly was too frightened to say anything.
The footsteps were getting closer.
“Move!” Kylar said, grabbing Elene’s hand to get her running, making her drag the brat.
He didn’t like this. It was too tidy. Too convenient that there was only one path.
One path. That’s it! There’s never just one path in this castle. Kylar scanned the walls and ceilings as he ran. He didn’t even try the doors that they passed. They turned another corner. Kylar skittered to a stop.
He shimmered back into visibility. “Elene, do you see that third panel?” He pointed up.
“No,” she said. “But what do I need to do?”
“Push on it. I’ll lift you. There are secret corridors throughout the castle. Find your way out. Maybe Uly can help you.”
She nodded and Kylar squatted against the wall. Elene hitched up her skirts and stepped on his thigh. She scowled as she realized that climbing up on him would drape her skirts over his head, but she didn’t hesitate to step up to his shoulders and finally into his hands. She walked her hands up the wall for balance. Then Kylar stood and extended his hands, lifting her high into the air.
Elene pushed the panel open and slipped inside a crawl space. She had turned around by the time Kylar picked up Uly.
“Can you catch?” he asked.
“I’d better,” she said. The footsteps were almost on top of them.
Kylar tossed Uly up in the air easily. Damn but the Talent is useful.
Elene caught her and started to slip until her own shoulders were sticking out over space. Then she must have braced herself against something inside the crawl space, because she stopped. She grunted, and with Uly wiggling to help, was able to pull the girl up with her.
“Oh, I’ve been here,” Uly said.
Kylar took out a dagger and tossed it up to Elene.
She caught it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Aside from the obvious?” he asked.
“Thanks. Now come on. There’s room. Hurry.”
Kylar didn’t move. Dorian said, ‘If you do the right thing twice, it will cost you your life.’ Blint said, ‘There are things more valuable than life.’ The count said, ‘You can’t pay for all you’ve done. But you aren’t beyond redemption. There’s always a way out. And if you’re willing to make the sacrifice, the God will give you the chance to save something priceless.’
He looked at Elene. Something priceless indeed. He smiled at her. She looked at him like he was crazy.
“Kylar, hurry!”
“It’s a trap, Elene. If they lose me here, they’ll search the hidden passages. I can’t protect you in the crawlspaces, they’re too cramped. Get out of the castle. Go to Jarl at the Blue Boar, he’ll help you.”
“They’ll kill you, Kylar. If it’s a trap you can’t—”
“I did look,” he interrupted. He smirked. “And you’ve got great legs.”
He winked—and disappeared.
63
Vürdmeister Neph Dada damned Roth Ursuul for the hundredth time of the day. Serving an aetheling of the Godking was supposed to be an honor. Like all the God-king’s honors, this one came with strings attached. If an aetheling failed his uurdthan, his Vürdmeister was punished with him. And obedience was required. Total obedience, except in things that might displease the Godking.
Which was why Neph was cursing. He wasn’t precisely disobeying Roth, but he was undoing something the prince had begun. Something, in fact, that Roth believed he had accomplished. Something that it was taking all of Neph’s abilities to stop. Mercifully, Roth had been too busy securing the castle and the city to ask where his Vürdmeister was. Besides, he had sixty meisters to command now, three of them Vürdmeisters almost as powerful as Neph. If Roth had sent men after him, the small servant’s room Neph had commandeered was isolated enough that they had never been able to find him.
His work—his petty deceit, and rebellion, and gamble for the Godking’s favor—lay stretched out on the bed. She was a beautiful girl—not that the Godking needed another beautiful girl—but she had spirit. Fiery, intelligent, and best of all a widowed, virgin bride, and a princess. Jenine Gyre was a prize indeed. A prize to crown the Godking’s harem. A prize Neph had snatched from the very jaws of Death.
Every Vürdmeister as old as he was knew volumes about preserving life, of course. It was in their own self-interest as they grew old. But I am a genius. A genius.
His plan had crystallized as Roth had ranted, meaningless words exploding from the boy like diarrhea. As usual. His cut had been fortunate. Just one side of the neck, not so deep that it cut the windpipe. Neph let her bleed until she was losing strength, then tickled a little tendril of magic against her diaphragm to push the air from her lungs, two more to close her eyes, a fourth to seal the wound on her neck, some quick movement to take attention away from her body so no one would notice that she was still breathing, and the girl had been his.