For a moment the group was silent, the only sounds in the dungeon those of the other prisoners.
“She ordered us not to act,” Niel continued. “She didn’t want to lose Ashbrin’s support. It was… why father started talking war in the first place. Though he cared more about power than vengeance as his plans grew.”
Corin was silent. Fury etched itself across his face, in his cold eyes and flared nostrils; the grim set of his jaw. The blonde woman had applied a paste to Niel’s wrists and was wrapping them with bandages.
“I love a good family gathering, but we’d truly best be moving,” the red-haired knight said, his voice somehow light despite it all.
“Rachiele hasn’t called the alarm,” Corin said sharply.
“And if she does, we’ll scarcely have time to arm ourselves, much less get upstairs,” the red-haired knight answered in a drawl.
“I still have to see his ankles, and any other wounds,” the healer said.
“I think you’d better do that elsewhere,” the red-haired knight said. “Being discovered in the dungeon mightsoundexciting, but I believe more excitement’s the last thing we need.”
“Put the cloak on,” Corin told Niel.
“She’ll wear it,” Niel said, with a stiff jerk of his head to Ayla.
“She’s with us. She’ll be fine, I swear it. Put the fucking cloak on,” Corin growled.
Niel didn’t protest when Ayla draped it over his shoulders. He vanished, and then she felt a cold, calloused hand wrap softly around her wrist, holding on to her so she knew where he was. Her heart thudded sickly in her chest. She wished they could just blink and be free of the danger. It was hard not to feel like she'd failed Niel somehow, even though she hadn't been the one to put him in the dungeon; even though she'd had no good chance to rescue him before this.
They proceeded up the narrow stairs, in single file.
“Are you hurt?” the blonde woman whispered to Ayla as they climbed, walking directly in front of her.
“I’m fine,” Ayla responded. The woman rummaged in her basket, then paused to turn back, offering Ayla two vials.
“Will these fit in your pockets?” the blonde lady asked. Ayla tried, and found they did. “Niel is to drink a quarter of the bottle with the green liquid when you get a chance. It’ll help speed along any healing and fight infections. The red bottle is for pain. Mix a few drops into a drink, don’t apply it directly to a wound. I’m sorry I can’t give you quickheal. There’s no more phoenix blood, now that Aronthia… well.”
“Thank you,” Ayla said quietly, only half following the instructions.
Corin shouldered open the door, and they stepped out into the hall. Ayla had forgotten the taste of clean air. She drew a deep breath, and wondered where the guard had gotten to. The hall was empty to either side of them. A moment later a noblewoman rounded the corner. She was bent over slightly to hold the hand of a young child walking beside her.
“Slow down, Telon” the noblewoman with the child called loudly, her voice tense. “We can’t walk as quickly as you. You keep getting ahead.”
Ayla glanced behind her at the door to the dungeon they’d just emerged from, and back to the lady walking towards them. She was brown-skinned and lithe, but quite pregnant, and dressed in clothing even more elegant than the red-haired knight’s. The child was pale, blonde, and snot-nosed.
“Sorry, love. Would it help if I carried him?” the red-haired knight asked, striding towards her.
A pack of guards and two servants rounded the hall behind the woman and toddler. Ayla felt Niel’s hand tighten, and heard his sharp intake of air. From what Corin had said in the dungeon,Ayla guessed the woman's request to slow down had been code—this woman's way to warn their group that the guards were about to appear.
“Go,” the healer said quietly. “Quickly.” She followed the red-haired knight towards the other lady and the guards. With a gasp the blonde healer suddenly tripped, basket falling and vials spilling out to roll across the floor. Corin winced visibly.
“Sir Corin,” a guard called.
“A moment,” Corin answered.
Ayla didn’t have time to wonder if the healer's fall had been an act to slow things down. Corin’s hand landed on her shoulder, silently forcing her to turn and walk away from the group and the guards.
“There will be a storm when the guards realize we’ve freed you,” Corin whispered, walking with them. “Do you want to stay, Niel? If you want to fight for a better Enar, I will guard your back. But if you want to leave and start anew, we need to move quickly to get you out of the palace.”
“I never want to see this place again,” Niel whispered. “But, Ayla…?”
Staying meant fighting. Staying meant people who wanted Niel dead, and who might want her dead, too, for siding with him. Staying meant a family she missed, but who had handed her over to Ditmar without second thought. And she was quite sure she never wanted to let Niel out of her reach again.
“I go where Niel goes,” she said, and the moment she spoke the words all hesitation left her. Yes. She’d gladly leave Enar for somewhere new, with him. Somewhere warm, maybe, like she and Niel had spoken of.
