She’d shifted at the last second, making Comtois’s bullet miss its mark by a fraction, and her own free Al.
He yanked himself out of the headlock. Camille darted forwards, pressing a knife into his hands.
‘Get free, quick,’ she instructed, then spun to meet the first guard, who’d shaken off his shock and launched himself at her.
She dispatched him with a well-timed boot and used his own momentum to spin him off the stage and into the crowd. Another guard attacked, but Al had cut his bindings, and ducked at the last moment before the guard reached him so the man went tumbling over and rolled off the stage after his comrade.
They stood back to back, gun and knife poised as more guards advanced – when the horses leading the tumbrils behind them reared with a whinny, iron shoes flashing. The crowd shrieked. The rest of the horses spooked at the noise and the guards grabbed at their reins and fell under kicking hooves. Another shout went up from the crowd and Camille glanced at the tumbrils. For a moment, it looked as if the rearing horses had broken apart the carts as they kicked and bucked in the harness – then she realised what she was seeing. The back of the last tumbril had been unlatched, and the prisoners, unchained, were pouring from the cart. Camille grabbed Al’s arm and pulled him off the scaffold. Prisoners had flooded the square scattering this way and that. Two of the horses had broken free and were bolting through the crowd.
Cam and Al dug their way through the swarm of people, all elbows. But now the vizard marked Camille out. A hand snagged in her collar and she hissed and twisted like a cat. Another hand hooked Al’s arm and he cursed in despair.
‘Say nothing,’ said a familiar voice.
Guil, in his soldier’s uniform, had his hands on them both. Wordlessly, he marched them out of the chaos. Camille’s heart was hammering, willing no one to look at them as they passed between stalls selling nuts and oranges and souvenirs of the executions.
Then Guil was pulling them sideways down a flight of steps to the riverbank. They slithered on slimy steps and ducked under the bridge’s arch.
Al swore a stream.
‘Cutting it a bit bloody fine, don’t you think?’
‘Lovely to see you too,’ snapped Camille, but she was grinning.
‘Be quick,’ said Guil, stripping off his uniform jacket and bicorn hat and handing them to Al. ‘Put those on.’
He complied, still shaking with adrenaline. Camille untied her vizard, tucking it back inside her coat and untying her hair so it fell loose around her face. Once their clothes were swapped, Guil disappeared as quickly as he’d come.
‘Come on.’ She reached for Al’s hands. ‘We’re not safe yet.’
14
The Abandoned Cordeliers Convent
Ada wondered how many times she could throw up from anxiety before her body was done. She’d fired her crossbow bolt as planned, watched Comtois tumble off the scaffold, watched Camille and Al run, seen Guil unlock the tumbrils to release the prisoners. She’d thrown up once before Cam had jumped on the scaffold and once after she’d launched herself back into the crowd. The waiting was the worst. Waiting and not knowing.
The convent was their last unused safe house. The only place they could be sure was secure. The sun was high overhead when Ada arrived, giving the sandstone a peaceful, honey-coloured glow. Camille was pacing the length of a cloister, in her blood-encrusted clothes. Al had found an upturned crate to sit on, looking pale and shaken, Guil was calmly reading a news-sheet.
Ada crossed the overgrown garden almost at a run, and grabbed Camille, kissing her as if she’d never stop. Camille said nothing, just held her close and kissed her back.
When they parted, Ada rounded on Al.
‘Don’t you ever make us have to do that again,’ she snapped. Then flung her arms around him and squeezed him in a tight hug.
When she pulled back, Al look startled, but quickly recovered, straightening his borrowed clothes.
‘I assure you it wasn’t my idea of a good time.’
‘I came for you, didn’t I? Will you believe me now?’ Camille asked almost softly.
Al looked between the three of them. ‘Your plans are really, incredibly terrible, I want you to know that.’
A grin spread across Ada’s face as she unpinned her hat. ‘That was quite fun, wasn’t it? Horrible and scary, but quite fun.’
‘I do miss some of our … wilder escapades,’ agreed Guil.
Al looked at them in horror. ‘You’re all mad. Wait – where are the other two? The Englishman and the science project?’
Camille folded her arms, her mouth a tight line. Then, haltingly, she spoke, summarising what had happened with James for Al, and Ada added in her own details of her time with the duc. When they were done, Al let out a low whistle.
