Terin shook her head. The conditions the servants lived in wasn’t her concern. All that needed to matter to her was the opportunity it created. Because the staff and their quarters were invisible, so was Terin if she remained within them. And because the late Councilor Damphries wanted his servants unseen, there were many unobtrusive passageways, enabling her to traverse nearly the entire estate.
She paused at the last door between her and her destination, pressing her ear to the wood. Quiet on the other side. A faint creak as she pulled the door inward made her tense, but when she peered out the hallway was empty. Two strides more, then a right into the stairway. Terin breathed a sigh of relief.
Her light footsteps barely made a sound as she bounded up the stone steps, but it wouldn’t matter now. She knew whose shift it would be in the gatehouse. Councilor Calkirk had remained true to his word. After she’d sent his highest-ranking guard to the dungeon to speak with him—while she distracted the guards posted outside of the dungeon—she’d soon thereafter been contacted by a different guard. This one wore the colors of Councilor Damphries, but it was to Calkirk he’d pledged his sword.
It had taken no work at all to convince him that when her brother came—and she had no doubt that he would—they must raise the gate to allow him inside, no matter the personal cost to them. Together they’d ensured that only men loyal to them would be working the gate in the future. Then they’d just had to wait.
Now the time was at hand. She’d heard the rumor of the shift in the forces outside since early morning. “Raise the gate,” she bade the gatemaster.
“Already on it, Your Highness,” the man said with a bow of his head.
Terin allowed herself an anxious smile. Crossing to the edge of the gate house, she glanced down.
There he was! She wanted to call to him, and if she’d thought she would survive she might have jumped to him. Swallowing her impatience, she reminded herself it wouldn’t be long now. Torian and Emariya were starting toward the gate as she watched.
Her brother exuded tangible confidence even from her distant vantage point. When she’d seen him last, he’d been teetering between hurt and angry. Despite her wretched actions, Terin had never doubted that Torian would return for her. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed, tasting impending freedom but knowing she couldn’t rush to her brother. She clenched her hands into fists, anxious to be away, ignoring the cut on her palm.
Once her brother moved out of sight, passing through the wall below, Terin spun, thanked the gatemaster and darted toward the stairwell.
“Going somewhere?” Khane leaned casually against the door frame. One hand brandished a sword, the other held his still-bandaged midsection. His gaze, though, was what gave her pause. It held such utter contempt, Terin thought perhaps she should have reconsidered jumping.
Why couldn’t he have
just died?
She fumed. He nearly had, but Alrec forced Reeve to tend him with herbs. While Reeve would never have his sister’s skill with herbs, he’d had enough—surprisingly—to save Khane’s worthless life.
“If you hurt me, Reeve will skin you alive. If my brother doesn’t first.”
“If I sample whatever it is you have that has the boy Lord so in a snit, it might be worth it.” His eyes gleamed with mirth. “I’m about out o’ patience with him thinking everything and everyone belong t’ him.”
Terin’s stomach rolled as she tried not to imagine having Khane on top of her.
Not now. Please,
not now.
Khane turned his grin toward the gate master. “On second thought, I hear this cat has claws.
Maybe it’s best just t’ be done with her.”
The gatemaster—a man who was plentiful of girth, but lacking in bravery—trembled, but stepped in front of her. It was probably the first time he’d ever faced an armed opponent, and Terin had no doubt that it would also be the only occurrence. Her eyes quickly scanned the vicinity for a weapon.
She heard the gatemaster groan and fall just as she snatched up the long handle of a broom. If she were going to die here, she’d make it her mission to inflict as much pain on the bastard as she could first.
Torian took the lead, with Emariya just a step behind him. He’d ensured Garith guarded her other side. No matter what they encountered, the two of them would make sure nothing reached Emariya. If he’d been able to think of any other way, he wouldn’t let her face Reeve either. Unfortunately, she was the only one of them talented enough to do so. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
A dull ache settled into his shoulders from the tension. His sword was drawn, reflecting light from the braziers that lined the courtyard. He wanted to spare as many innocent lives as possible, but he’d cut first, and ask second. Behind them, the citizens and soldiers crowded in and began to disperse, looking for any resistance. The startled shout of a surprised citizen wouldn’t have necessarily caused him to turn back, but the rumble of the gate as it began to descend did.
At first relief flooded through him as he realized no one had been crushed. It was short-lived as it occurred to the prince that either whoever was manning the gate house had changed their minds or they’d just walked into a potential trap. Whatever the reason, they either needed to stop and bring down the wall after all, or get the gate opened once more so the rest of their forces could make it inside.
Uneasy looks passed between himself, Emariya and Garith. “We need them.” Torian worked his jaw, thinking.
Emariya’s eyes were heavy with apology. “I’m not sure that I can bring down the wall from in here. At least not without hurting those on the other side. I can’t see them... what if the tremors reached too far?”
Garith shook his head. “I’ll go to the gate house. Once I get the gate back up, I’ll catch up to you.”
She looked like she wanted to protest, but then she glanced the direction they’d been heading.
Deeper into the estate. Torian saw the acceptance settle over her.
“No goodbyes.” Garith gave a little wave then hurried in the other direction without looking back.
Torian wished he could draw all her worry and heartache into himself. “Try not to worry over him.
He’ll be fine. Knowing him he’s bound to show up at the last minute and save the day.”
Her returned smile was weak, but at least it was a smile. “I have no intention of needing to be saved.”
Jessa resisted the urge to call out as her group broke away from Emariya and Torian’s group. To his credit, Blaine had only asked her to stay behind once. She’d shaken her head, determined to face whatever would come with the rest of them. Besides, the last time she’d been left “safe” on the sidelines, she’d ended up right in the middle of the battle in the hands of the enemy. Not an experience she wanted to repeat.
Part of her wanted to give in and stay outside the estate walls. But she couldn’t. After this was all over, she needed to feel worthy of standing as an equal with Blaine. Well, maybe not an equal. But not the handmaiden constantly left behind, either. She’d been left behind with Rink on the journey to Thalmas. She’d been left behind when Torian took Riya to find the Roths. She’d been left on the bluff while they fought the Separatists. And then Riya left her at the base of The Cradle of The Three. No more. If she wanted Blaine to keep seeing her as more, she had to find the courage to be more.
Starting now. Or maybe starting tomorrow,
Jessa wavered. No. Thoughts of her mother bravely facing down Reeve flushed her face with shame. Jessa could be brave. She would.
Realizing she was lagging behind, Jessa hurried to catch up to Kahl, Alara, and Blaine. While the citizens would confront the other citizens, Jessa’s group was assigned to find the Councilors. Most importantly Lord Calkirk, who they knew was on their side. But if possible, Emariya wanted all of the Councilors to be found and brought to the library. From what Jessa understood, Emariya wanted to meet with them before making any declarations to the assembled rebels of the Uplands. They were all fighting for their survival today, their way of life. But it would be Emariya who had to set the tone for the future. She needed to know which of the Councilors were with her, and which weren’t.
It stood unsaid, but clear, after their discussion on the way to the Cradle: Emariya would support her if she and Blaine chose to try and make a future together. What wasn’t clear was if Jessa wanted that? If if were just a matter of wanting him, there would be no question. But accepting him meant accepting so much more. He was the heir to Sheas, and Emariya intended for him to lead Sheas in a unified The Three Corners.
Jessa had spent her entire life standing behind a leader. But could she stand beside one, as an equal?
Their small group made it through the courtyard, weaving deeper into the estate. “Which way?”
Kahl asked.
“From what I remember, that way goes to the dungeon.” Blaine pointed to the left. “The other goes to the chambers assigned to the visiting Councilors.”
“Check the chambers first. If they’re in the dungeon, they aren’t going anywhere,” Kahl said, starting in that direction.
Alara offered Jessa a less than reassuring smile. “Don’t fret dear, we’ll be out of here before you know it.”
Was her discomfort that obvious? Mama always said she wrapped herself up in her thoughts as if they were her best dress, displayed proudly for all to see.
A door crashed open at the end of the hall ahead, and a panic-stricken Lord Felton barreled toward them like an uncaged fox trying to get ahead of the hounds. “Please, you’ve got to help me!” He clutched the corner of Blaine’s coat and nearly fell to his knees before them. “High Councilor Warren’s gone plum mad! He’s locked Councilor Calkirk in the dungeon, and if his men find me I’m next.”
Blaine looked down at the the shivering mass that was Council Felton as if the man were a mud puddle he didn’t want to step in. “Get a hold of yourself. Do you have the keys to the cells?”
Felton nodded and stammered. “Y-yes. Right here.” He procured them and shoved the iron ring into Blaine’s hands.
“Are we going to take him with us?” Jessa asked. She couldn’t see leaving him there. The Councilors had always symbolized order and strength. Felton didn’t look orderly or strong anymore.
“I have to get Bosch. He will be lost without someone to guide him to safety, and I would hate for Lord Reeve to use him as a hostage. But I can’t get him by myself, there are too many guards assigned to his corridor. I was going to get Calkirk, then go back for Bosch.” Lord Felton’s eyes brightened.
“With you here, we could get him to safety for sure. I know that Lady Warren wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”
Alara spoke up. “Riya was clear. Lord Calkirk is a priority.”
Blaine glanced in both directions, and Jessa understood. They couldn’t be in two places at once, and every moment they delayed was time that either Calkirk or Bosch could be in trouble. And it meant longer before they could reinforce Riya as she faced Reeve.
Kahl stepped forward and pulled Felton to his feet. “Show me to Bosch.”
Seeing them together, it occurred to Jessa just how old Kahl and Alara were. They did a good job of keeping up with the rest of the group, but traveling had definitely taken its toll. Jessa chewed her lip. “I don’t think we should split up.”
“It may not be ideal, but it is the best chance we’ve got. Each moment we delay Bosch or Calkirk may fall prey to hostile blades. I may not be a spring chicken, but I’m not a withered old bird either.
And I can still wield a sword.”
Alara’s kind eyes, so much like Mama’s, sparkled. “He says that now, but that’s not what he says if you ask him to wield a broom.”
The group tittered with nervous laughter, and then Riya’s grandfather turned to Blaine. “You remember the way to the dungeon?”
“Well enough. We’ll meet at the library. Send word through Carah if you run into trouble.”
The lump that formed in her throat as she watched Alara and Kahl scurry off after Felton took Jessa by surprise.
By The Three, what’s wrong with me? I’m a blubbering mess today.
“Just us now,” Blaine whispered, taking her hand.
“The sooner we get Calkirk out of the dungeon, the sooner we can rejoin the others.” Jessa tried to sound brave, as if potentially having to fight their way into a dank and dreary dungeon was as simple as putting water on to boil. Though if the guards were all otherwise occupied, it might be. She could only hope.
Mischief danced in Blaine’s sapphire eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if it was just us for longer.”
Jessa arched an eyebrow. What was he getting at?
“Like maybe forever?” His voice had grown husky.
Her heart fluttered a definite yes. “I don’t think now is the time for that type of discussion, Master Hendel. Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand.” She turned her eyes away, hoping he wouldn’t see her excitement.
He gripped her by the shoulders and swept her into a brief but determined kiss. “On the contrary, My Lady, there is no better time. I may risk my life here today, to defend you and your land. I’d like to know as I do, that if we are successful, you are my prize.”
“Does it matter if we aren’t successful?”
“Of course,” Blaine said solemnly. “If you’re promised to me, then I know exactly what I’m fighting for. And I don’t want to lose that chance, so therefore, failing isn’t an option.” Jessa was about to throw her arms around his neck and tell him she already was his, but he spoke again. “But really, I already know you’re mine. I just wanted to make you say it. And to make your cheeks match your hair.”
“You!” Jessa shoved at his chest and then pulled him along down the corridor. “Come along, and watch your tongue. Else I might leave you in Calkirk’s cell.”
Blaine’s demeanor darkened to caution as they caught sight of the dungeon door up ahead.
“Shouldn’t there be guards?” Jessa asked in an exaggerated whisper.
“They may have all been called to assist in the rest of the estate. Or it may be a trap.” Blaine gripped his sword harder, his knuckles going white.