Well, balance was also the reason my ankles and legs ached as I sat on my bed, the room only slightly illuminated by the glowing embers in the fireplace, as I finished tying three of the bed curtains into a long rope. If that was Callen starting “simple” with me, I didn’t want to know what real training with him looked like.
With any luck, I wouldn’t find out.
The escape wouldn’t be easy. I would lower myself to the balcony below me. From there, I’d descend the remaining two stories with the makeshift rope. I’d have to leave it dangling along the wall, but the trees should hide most of the upper guard’s view, delaying any realization of what I’d done. I’d pass through the kitchen, but after that, I’d be improvising. If I kept my hood low enough, it would shield my eyes from view, and if there was no way to walk out of the walls, I would find a cart to hide in.
As far as plans went, it was messy at best. But with Harthon’s intentions to keep me hidden away, I wouldn’t be able to do much better. There’d be no traipsing around the Citadel to study my options, and if I didn’t leave before we journeyed to Fifth, I’d be kept from home for at least another week.
I tightened each knot as much as the fabric allowed and quietly strode to the mirror to fasten my cloak. I’d donned the same blue and black attire I’d arrived in, the dark colors more suitable for melting into the night.
If there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s making do with what you have,I reminded myself, going to the window.
Several minutes later, the guard on the wall walk turned away, and I gingerly opened the glass pane. Cool, biting air washed across my face. Once again, I took a piece of bread I’d saved from dinner and threw it down by the lower guard, who sat slumped against the wall. He didn’t stir. I grabbed the knotted curtains and slowly dropped the makeshift rope onto the balcony below me. The gauzy material fell onto the stone, and I froze, waiting for any indication that it’d been spotted. Nothing happened.
Now came the difficult part. I’d never been one to climb trees, despising the tremble in my muscles whenever I saw how far I could fall.
This was worse—atleastfour times worse—but I couldn’t afford to think about it. Just do.
My heart lurched into my throat as I spun and slowly came to kneel on the sill. Ensuring my grip was tight, I slid one leg out and then the other, coming to my belly before lowering all the way.
Do it.
Fingers releasing, I was weightless for a moment, and then the stone slammed into my feet. I welcomed the fall onto my ass, hoping it quieted thethudof my landing. A glance above the stone balustradeshowed the upper guard still turned away and the lower one still asleep.
Moving quickly, I tied one end of the rope to the side-most column with shaking fingers. Three knots later, I stood and yanked. The fabric held, and I tossed its length over the railing. The end dangled a few feet above a shadowed bush. Whether the bush contained thorns, I didn’t know, but there was no backing out. Not now. There was no way I could scale the wall back to my room, and if Harthon caught me mid-escape…
Don’t think about it.
I shook my quivering hands, gripped the balustrade, and swung my legs over before my body refused me. Grabbing the column, I released my feet and pinched the fabric between them.
The fabric would hold, or I would plummet down the two stories.
Inhale. Exhale.
I squeezed my eyes shut as I released the solid column and grasped the fabric with my hands.
It held. But my hands didn’t.
I barely stemmed a cry as I slid down one foot, then two, jolting to a stop when my feet rammed into the first knot. Adrenaline flushed my skin cold.
No time to lose it. Keep going.
This time, I anticipated the slide, and I controlled my speed better as I plummeted to the next knot. I examined the remaining distance to the ground. I was five or six feet above the bush, but there was no knot at the end of the rope to stop me once more.
There was no choice.
I careened down the remaining fabric and slammed into the bush, thin branches crunching on impact, their broken ends jabbing into my skin like needles. I rolled off the plant before I had time to register the discomfort, getting low to the ground as I waited and assessed.
While my landing had sounded like thunder in the quiet night, the guard on the ground didn’t move. A snore traveled through the air.
Harthon was going to kill him.
It wasn’t my problem.
A burst of pride brought me renewed energy as I scurried to the kitchen door, which had no lock. It was thankfully quiet as it slowly swung open, and I scanned the darkness for signs of movement.
To the right was an alcove brimming with baskets of what resembled vegetables, and three long preparation tables stretched before me. Empty fire pits, grated grills, and more baskets lined the walls, and two cavernous stone ovens sat to the left of the tables.
There were no people.
