Do I want towhat?
I don’t have time to protest. The vigilante spins us around, gripping my waist. I blink and readjust my position to face the oncoming assault. I kick and land a hit on El Lobo’s guard. He releases my waist and spars with Pidru. The other guard charges.
I block and counter. My arm burns from the weight of the sword. My hand shakes with the effort to follow through. But when the guard leaves himself open, I don’t waste the opportunity.
One step forward. Direct stab under the ribs. His eyes roll up until the whites show, and he slumps to the ground. The blade slips out of him.
My mask sticks to my cheeks, hot and damp from the sweat trickling down my temples. Swords clang behind me. Startled, I turn as El Lobo advances on Pidru. The older man gives a valiant effort, but his movements are slower.
I can’t watch. The doors to the office are still flung open. My feet want to carry me through. My heart must want the same thing because in seconds I’m there, one foot inside the office and the other free.
Pidru doesn’t have any fight left in him. His shoulders sag. His blade moves wildly and without control. El Lobo shifts his weight. Preparing for the next hit.
“Don’t kill him!” The words rip out of me. I barely remember to disguise my voice.
They both turn toward me. Pidru clearly stunned, sweat drenching his tunic. El Lobo’s blade freezes mid-slash. Even I’m surprised—I just saved a Llacsan guard. I back up a step. I don’t have time to consider what I’ve done.
I run.
My footsteps echo down the long stone hall. I duck under doorways and hide around corners, timing my every move in order to evade the guards patrolling the corridors. But I still have to contend with the tall sentry standing in front of my door. I peer around the corner, and sure enough, he’s there, leaning against the frame. His head dips and then jerks upward. The telltale signs of someone trying to stay awake.
I have to get inside. Quickly. It’s only a matter of time before more soldiers arrive. Someone will have noticed the missing guards patrolling the hallway. I’m an enemy sleeping under their roof, the first one who will be questioned. I have to make it inside my room before more guards are summoned. Something brushes against my leg. I glance down and smile. A cat. I follow its intense stare to a group of chickens clucking at the other end of the hall, and an idea sparks.
The third floor is one big square. My idea will only work if the disturbance is loud enough to ensnare the guard’s attention, and if I run fast enough around the square before the guard returns to his post. I suck in a deep breath and take off my boots.
Now or never.
I knock over two smaller pots just as the cat hisses and bolts down the hall. The clay pots make a resounding crash against the stone. The chickens squawk and the cat emits a loud screech. I sprint on my tiptoes down the hall, skirting around the flustered chickens squawking and flapping their wings in a rage.
The guard shouts in alarm as I round the first corner.
My calves ache but I stay on my tiptoes. Doors pass by in a blur. I round the second corner. My boots thud against my thighs as I pump my legs. Just one more turn. A stitch roars painfully to life in my side. I ignore it as I round the last corner. There’s no guard! My lungs are on fire, but I don’t let up the pace.
Four more doors to go.
Three.
Two.
I reach for the knob and swing my door open, careful to close it gently. Ripping off my tunic, I throw on a brightly striped shirt that hangs to my knees. Trousers come off next. I prop my boots neatly against the dresser and stuff the dark clothes into my pillowcase. The folded sheet of paper I stuff deep into my right shoe.
My heart thuds sharply in my chest. Snapping the covers back, I scramble into bed with my sword tucked underneath the pillow.
The door opens.
I shut my eyes, feigning sleep. Force my breath to even out. Slow and steady. The effort hurts. My body thrums with energy and it doesn’t want to be quieted.
“She’s been in here the whole time,” someone says.
That’ll be the tall guard stationed at my door.
“What happened down the hall—”
“Nastiest chicken and cat fight I’ve ever seen,” my guard says. “Broken pieces of clay scattered everywhere. And the feathers! So many—”
“I saw the feathers,” the other interrupts, his voice dry. “Are you telling me you left your post?”
My breath catches at the back of my throat. I squeeze my knees together.
