And then, by some miracle, Keely worked the whole knot over the hook. The chain was off the beam, and they were dropping, out of control. Nim only just managed to keep a grip on Keely as they tumbled into a staggering, jarring crash landing.
Val fell to his knees with a low groan as the chain released, his arms stretched out along the cold ground in front of him, forehead on the floor. His wings hung limp and gray and tattered over his back.
Nim could only imagine the agony he was in after being held in that position for so long. The shackles on his ankles were attached to the wall by short chains that had pulled tight as he fell, and she knew the iron must be cutting his flesh brutally on top of everything else he’d endured.
And she was about to make it even worse.
She gestured to Keely, motioning to her to grab Val’s arm on one side while she took a firm grip of the other, quickly telling her what she needed to do. Then, on another hurried count of three, they each pulled, dragging his arms back down beside his body.
Val’s agonized whimper, as if he didn’t have the strength to scream, almost broke her. But there was no time to stop and comfort him.
A glance at the iron manacles was enough to know that they would not come off easily, and every passing moment put them one step closer to being caught.
“The guard?” Keely flicked her head back to the dead soldier, and Nim caught her breath. It was worth a try. They ran together, dropping down next to him, uncaring of the blood all over the floor.
For a few seconds they battled each other, both trying to use arms that were still chained, but then Keely took hold of her hand and they started again, anxiously searching for a key with their free hands.
Nim’s heart was in her mouth as she checked the dead man’s belt, his coat pockets, even his trousers. Nothing.
She wanted to scream in frustration. How long did they have before the guards realized they weren’t in any of the upstairs rooms? Or the Blue from the hall came back? Not long.
He had to have keys. Where else could they be? She pulled the bloody sword out of his body and shoved it awkwardly into her belt. “Help me roll him.”
They worked together to push the heavy solder onto his side. There, under his lower back, was a set of iron keys.
Val was how they’d left him, still kneeling with his forehead on the ground. They ran back up the dais, clutching the keys. The key was cold and rough, the iron immediately sapping strength from her fingers, and her hand trembled. The key wouldn’t fit the lock. She tried again, but still couldn’t get it in. Oh, gods.
“Give it to me.” Keely held out her hand, and Nim passed her the keys. The other woman took a deep breath and then inserted the key in one smooth motion. The grinding click as the manacle opened was the best sound she had ever heard.
It took a few seconds to get the other manacle off and then to work their way around to find the best position for lifting Val. Even with all the weight he’d lost, he was still a big, heavy man, and almost unconscious. They managed to get him strung between them, their chain tight around his back, beneath his wings, his arms over their shoulders, and to take a few stumbling steps.
They almost fell getting off the dais, then Keely slipped in the bloody footprints surrounding the dead Blue, only just managing to right herself in time.
Slowly they moved forward, one step after the other.
That was when they heard it. Booted feet tramping right outside. The palace guard was in the courtyard and would be on them in any second, their bloody footprints leaving no doubt as to where they’d gone.
They hauled Val urgently back the way they’d come, only just reaching the screen as the first soldiers burst through the door.
The cry went up immediately. The guard had seen the corpse, the gory trail. Orders were shouted as their broken trio reached the door to the king’s study and fled through it, turning to drag the heavy bolt closed just as the first Blues reached them.
The room was meant to be a safe retreat for the king, and it was heavily protected with a multitude of bolts. Nim and Keely frantically slid them closed, flinching as soldiers began thumping into the door.
Something about the booming thuds seemed to reach Val even in his almost catatonic state, and he stood stronger, taking more of his own weight, as they rushed him across the room toward the only other exit.
And stopped. The sounds of more boots thumped through the air. More men. The sound of rough orders being briskly delivered, too low to hear clearly.
It was the sound of the end.
Nim glanced at Keely and Val. Between them, they had one sword. All of them were beyond exhausted. Val could hardly stand.
Would it be better to give in, accept the inevitable, and do what they could to survive, even if just for a few more hours? Survive, however broken, and wait for Tristan to come?
She gritted her teeth. She wanted to survive, but not like that.
Somehow, in the long dark night under the pier, the woman who had sat at home waiting, even as she slowly lost hope, had gone. And in her place was a woman who had been forged in the fires of her own rafters. A woman who truly, finally, trusted in her own strength. Who came all this way to rescue her brother. A woman who fought for herself and what she wanted.
As if sensing her decision, Keely gave her a small, resigned smile of agreement. She lifted her arm, and together they swung their chain back over Val’s head.
