Her steps are unsteady, body crimped forward, insipid eyes cast ahead, like she’s seeing something we are not. Like she’s hooked on a line, being dragged forward one shuffled step at a time.
Her face is a twist of mournful agony that triggers something inside me. Makes that big dome rumble so loud I’m certain everybody can hear it …
She carries a dagger in one hand, the other shredding at her chest, fingers clawed and tendons taut; as though she’s trying to plow through and rip out her own heart.
“Hattie.” I reach out as she passes. “Hattie … We got them all.”
She doesn’t acknowledge me, her tragic gaze fixed ahead.
I take a step forward, fingers skimming across her hand. She pauses, looking down at the point of contact, then up into my eyes, hers igniting with a spark of recognition. A whimper slips out, and she cradles my cheek with her free hand, resting her forehead against mine.
“Come with us,” I whisper, and she pulls away, the tenderness in her gaze catching my breath.
She shakes her head, drifts back, and staggers on, the tangled trail of her silver hair the last I see of her before she disappears into the gloom like a dissolving apparition.
A mournful weight settles upon my chest, making the backs of my eyes sting. Because I just know—like some silent whisper nuzzling beneath my skin, nesting beneath my ribs with the other ghosts I’ve tucked away—that I’ll never see her again.
* * *
There’s a stillness about the palace as we file through the ornate hallways, past gilt wall sconces balancing candles almost burned down to the nub, taking a quiet route I preplanned because it’s devoid of servants at this hour.
Nobody makes a sound. Not even the younger ones huddled in the arms of others or trailing along with their fingers twisted into the hem of someone else’s clothes.
We reach a corridor on the main floor, one side lined with windows that take the rain’s lashing, the littlepingscreating a haunting melody to our quiet charge.
Bolts of light preface a clap of thunder somewhere in the distance. Baze snatches my shirt and shoves against my back as something shifts from the shadow behind a large urn.
My heart leaps into my throat, another flash revealing a small person stepping forward and pushing back his hood, a roguish smile splitting his face.
Zane.
“How did you get in here? And what the hell are you evendoinghere?” I hiss, wiggling free of Baze’s hold and wrapping my arms around Zane, stuffing my face into his hair. “It’s dangerous …”
He pulls back. “I got worried. Uncle said you were running late. And there was nothing in your note about …” he flashes a look at the others still moving down the hall, “them.”
I wince.
I couldn’t be too specific, just in case the note made it into the wrong pair of hands. I asked for the senka seed, set up the thieving of Cainon’s ship, and requested Gun pass a second note to Zali explaining the plan to get me out—that’s all I could risk.
“Found them on the way out,” I tell him, offering a soft smile before I nudge him forward. “Now let’s get you out of here.”
Poor Gunthar. He may not have noticed Zane’s missing, but if he has, he’s not going to be happy.
We reach the others at the door to the courtyard, bunched and shivering and glancing around nervously. I weave through the crowd, finding Kolden with his hand on the doorknob and a grim look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a large contingent of Gray Guards. The High Septum must still be this side of the bridge.”
“How many?” Baze asks from right behind me, gripping my upper arm like he thinks I’m about to burst through that door and do something stupid.
Seems his trust has flown out the window.
“Toomany,” Kolden grinds out, flicking Baze a shaded look. “If somebody draws them away, I can get the gate open. Two palace guards will be on the other side of it—Jahk and Tier. Both good men with good morals, and one of them has a kid on the way. I’d like them to live.”
“Is there no other route to the pier?” Baze asks, and Kolden and I shake our heads, seconds ticking by like my racing heartbeats.
Shit.
“We could all climb down from Orlaith’s balcony? That’s how I got in.” Baze, Kolden, and I glare at Zane. “S’notthathard,” he boasts, pulling a plum from one of his many pockets, shining it on his cloak, and handing it to a kid beside him without even passing him a sideways glance. “Orlaith does it all the time. I’ve seen her from where I fish for squid off the rocks.”
