“Where are the boats?” he asked.
Daena frowned. “What boats?”
“This position is strategically extremely defensible, but it wouldn’t last in a protracted siege. Andred will have a way out, and his way out will be by boat.”
The Nephilim woman considered for a moment. “There is a guarded area behind the stores, right on the lakeshore. It has its own palisade and a low canvas roof strung over the top. I’ve seen tree trunks taken in there. Maybe they used the wood for boats.”
“How do we get there?” Keely asked.
“It’s not far,” Daena replied. “Two rows along from here. But how will you get past the guards?”
“We all need to get past the guards,” Tor replied firmly.
Daena’s eyebrows raised. “We?”
“Yes. You’re coming with us. If you’re a prisoner, this is your chance.” And if she wasn’t a prisoner, then he had her where he could see her.
Daena met his eyes. “Okay. Thank you. But we still have to get past the guards.”
Tor considered the ancient canvas of the tent. “We’ll go out the back.” He grabbed the mildewed fabric in his hands and ran a finger along the seam until he found what he was looking for, a small notch, made from years of use, rubbing against the stony ground. He worked it between his hands, twisting and pulling in opposite directions until it started to tear.
He looked up at Keely. “You’ll have to distract the guards.”
“Let me.” Daena pushed herself heavily to her feet and limped to the front flap. She took a deep breath and then let herself out.
“Do you think we can trust her?” Keely whispered.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Daena’s voice rose sharply outside the tent. “We have to eat.”
There was a rough murmur of male voices, then Daena again. “If you won’t let me go, then one of you has to.”
“Our orders don’t—”
Tor stopped listening to the words as he gripped the rough canvas, and then, as soon as Daena started loudly complaining about being hungry, he gave a sharp tug.
The canvas split upward in a long, ragged rip.
He and Keely both froze, listening carefully, but the guards were still arguing loudly with Daena.
He risked another series of small tugs and managed to rip a hole halfway up the back of the tent before Daena gave a last exasperated complaint and let herself back into the tent.
They all stared silently at the hole, it would be tight, and he couldn’t predict what they would find outside, but this was their best chance. Who knew how long Andred and the others would be distracted, or when the guards might decide to check on them?
Daena pulled a brown cloak from a bundle beside her bedroll and tugged it on, then slung a small leather satchel over her neck, across her chest. “I’m ready.”
Tor nodded, looking at Keely. “I’ll go first.”
Keely narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t disagree. She laid her hand on his arm, gripping tightly. “Be careful.”
Gods. He leaned down and kissed her, quick and hard, pressing his lips against hers. As if that one second would be enough to tell her everything. To let her know that he would be careful. That he had every intention of getting them all out. That as soon as they were safe, he would make a plan for their future together. But that if it came to it, she was his priority.
She must have realized his thoughts, because her fingers clenched on his arm as he moved back, and for a moment he wondered if she would hold him there. But then she slowly released him and stepped away, his arm tingling where she’d touched him.
Tor ducked down through the hole; it was a tight squeeze, but he twisted to the side and pushed his shoulders through, emerging into the dark space behind the tent.
Lanterns shone, glowing on the tent fronts and casting long shadows back onto the foggy water of the dark lake behind them. The air was heavy and damp, the stars and moon completely blocked by thick clouds.
