Unless they caught her.
Then they would display her on the wall.
But if everything went to plan, she would have a way to provide for her family that was not dependent on Harlan. Perhaps the food would finally stop sticking in her throat every time she swallowed.
Blake moved quietly through the forest, always alert to her surroundings. When she reached the edge of the trees, she stopped behind a wide trunk and peered up at the wall. She watched for over an hour, studying the movements of the defender on duty. She counted out the time it took him to walk from one turret to another. He was slower than the daytime guards she had observed. That would work in her favour.
Removing her boots, she hid them out of sight. Her bare feet ached in the cold. She waited for the defender to pass by again, then took off at a sprint towards the wall. When she reached it, she flattened her body against the cold stone, grateful for the cloud cover. She counted out the time in her head, allowing for the guard to return and leave again, then started to climb.
She pressed her fingers into the protruding edges of the stone, her face brushing the wall as her toes felt their way up it. There were times when a single toe held the full weight of her while she figured out her next move.
At the twenty-feet mark, her limbs began to tremble, every muscle in her body working to keep her attached to that wall. Progress was slower than she had anticipated, which meant she would have to wait for the defender to pass again before climbing over the embrasure.
She was ten feet from the top when her right foot slipped. Her face smashed into the stone wall, and fear pounded in her ears. If she fell from that height, she would most definitely injure herself, but worse, she would not be able to run from the defenders. Her misplaced foot scrambled for an edge, her arms shaking violently as they struggled to hold her weight. Finally, she found a toehold. She breathed out, not daring to look down.
Gritting her teeth, Blake dragged and pushed herself up the last few feet, pausing at the top when she heard footsteps. She held her breath, waiting for the defender to pass.
But he did not pass.
With a loud sigh, the defender leaned against the wall for a rest.
Of all the places for him to stop.
Blake dared a glance under her arm at the ground below. She did not have it in her to climb down again. Her body was about to give out. Her palms were sweating despite the cold air. She struggled to keep her breathing quiet as she swallowed down the scream sitting in her throat.
She had two choices: fall or reveal herself to the defender. Neither was particularly appealing, but a broken back was the less appealing option at that moment. If she surprised the guard, she stood a chance of fleeing without being caught. But flee to where? There were more defenders in the turrets.
Her toe began to slip, and she knew she had only moments to act. Reaching, she took a firm hold of the embrasure and, with all her remaining strength, pulled herself up. The effort was enormous. Just as her knee landed on top of the embrasure, she came face to face with a very young, very confused defender. He looked past her as if trying to figure out where she had come from. That was her opportunity, while his mind was still playing catch-up.
She leapt at him, knocking him backwards before he had a chance to draw his weapon. She heard the air leave his lungs as his back slammed into the wall walk, and then she was scrambling off him. If she could make it to the turret without being seen, she stood a chance. But when she went to run off, he grabbed hold of her ankle, sending her sprawling forwards. She put her hands out just in time to prevent her face from hitting the ground. She kicked wildly until she finally freed herself. Adrenaline coursed through her as she focused on the turret ahead of her, preparing to run.
But the man was too fast and too well trained.
He was standing once more with an arm secured around her waist before she was back on her feet. Desperate, Blake threw her head up, making contact with the man’s nose. He roared and threw her down onto the wall walk, drawing his sword. She rolled onto her back and fumbled for her knife as he raised his weapon above her. Stomach? Chest? Throat? Where would he strike? She had seen men disembowelled while conscious, forced to watch their insides exit their own bodies. She closed her eyes, bracing.
There was a soft thud as something hit the ground beside her. Blake opened her eyes. The defender lay just inches from her face, his eyes closed and mouth slack. Confused, she looked up and found a panting Harlan standing over her. His eyes were two pools of fire.
She was in so much trouble.
‘Get up,’ he growled, pulling her to her feet with such force her head snapped backwards. ‘Stay directly behind me, and don’t make a sound.’ He pointed to the closest turret.
Her legs were not cooperating, and Harlan was already out of patience. When she struggled to run, he took her by the wrist and began dragging her. When she stumbled, he pulled her to her feet without slowing down.
‘Wait,’ she whispered when he sped up.
He still did not slow down. ‘If we wait, you hang.’
She willed her legs to work better.
They were almost at the turret when voices drifted out. Harlan stepped sideways, tucking himself into the outer wall of the turret and pulling Blake to him. He pressed her head to his chest and turned his face to the shadows. Two men exited, and she held her breath. Harlan had crossed a line there was no coming back from—and she had forced him across it.
The two men continued past them.
Harlan wasted no time, pushing off the wall and dragging her with him as he entered the turret. He led her to the stairs, then hurried down them, taking them two at a time and forcing her to do the same. When they reached the bottom, he paused and listened.
Silence.
A moment later, they were through the door at the bottom. Blake’s first instinct was to run, but Harlan kept a firm hold of her wrist as he looked around. His hand was like an iron cuff, but she did not dare complain. His eyes went to her bare, filthy feet.
