The Archon’s secret wagon returned to the palace, and we were hastily ushered out. There was no time to dawdle—a manhunt would begin once the fake Bloodstone was discovered.
Equipped only with bags of supplies and the clothes on our backs, we slipped out in the thick of night and made for a hidden exit that Ainwir had shown me years ago.
I felt silly, fleeing through dark streets wearing a noble’s fanciful toga, my flower mask hanging around my neck. Four people composed our merry band: myself, Eleos, Seraphim, and Perse.
We were neither priests nor nobles, but criminals escaping our sentence by pursuing a fool’s errand.
Following a channel that flowed to the city’s northwestern edge, I guided us toward a large grate at the base of the walls, where refuse from the sewer trickled into the surrounding marshlands. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but this was the only exit where guards did not keep rapt watch over the roads.
Though the bars of the grate were too close together for a person to slip through, one in the center was loose. Finding the rusted pole, I dragged it out of place and pushed it aside, creating a gap just wide enoughto shimmy through.
I allowed the others to go first, taking one last glance at the city lights before squeezing through. My sandals sank into the marsh, soaking me to my knees.
Grimacing as the ends of my dress clung to my legs, I pulled up my skirt and trudged forward.
Everything had happened so fast. I wanted to lie down and process the abrupt change, not wander through the wilderness.
The four of us remained silent until nothing but willows and damp soil surrounded us. The man in the purple doublet fell into step with me, lifting his low-brimmed hat to reveal part of his face: affable, with a nose that curved upward at the tip. He was far paler than anyone I’d met, with a mouth curled in a permanent smile, though his hat concealed his hair and eyes.
“Apologies for the lack of introductions,” he said, bowing like a stage actor. “I’m Percy. Pleasure to have you on the team, lady. . .?”
Perse must’ve been his nickname. Staring at his hand, I considered ignoring it. No sense being rude, I supposed. Shaking his hand, I narrowed my eyes. “Aethra. How do you people know who I am?”
Seraphim spoke without turning around. “Chance, really. I need someone skilled at dealing with nobles, and the Guild recommended you.”
“So you know that I’m-”
“A con woman?” Eleos finished. “Yes. That’s just what we need.”
“What for?” I asked, staring at Seraphim’s back.
“We’ll go over the plan later,” she called. “By a fire with good wine.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed, glancing between everyone. Much could be gleaned about a person from a cursory glance.
Eleos wore a blue scarf and white cape: the colors of the clergy, though he lacked their metallic insignia. He seemed sosoft, a typical pretty boy I might cast as the shining prince in a play, but his hands were calloused. A frequent traveler?
Seraphim looked to be in her forties, a scar rising from her collar to caress her neck. How many more hid behind the surface?
Percy seemed like a performer; he walked with a lively jaunt, had a permanent grin etched on his face, and dressed like a blindingly colorful beacon meant to light our way.
Eleos watched me with sharp eyes. “Trying to figure out what we were thrown in the dungeons for?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “The Archon implied you were already criminals.”
He chuckled. “Seraphim and I had been detained for questioning when the Archon recruited us. Percy happened to be in the neighboring cell.”
I raised an eyebrow at Percy, who turned several shades of scarlet. Whatever he’d done to earn a dungeon cell must have been terribly embarrassing.
“Well, spill it,” I said. “What did you-”
“Sh.” Eleos grabbed me and dragged me behind a tree.
The distinctive sound of horses forging through water caught my ear, and I chanced a glance around the willow to see a unit of men, torches glowing in the night, riding through fog settled on the marsh’s low waters.
I snapped my head back around cover. “They’re already looking for us?”
“Hm.” Eleos seemed unbothered. “Two hours earlier than I expected.”
