Mercy glanced out onto the floor. It was a wide-open room, empty. She followed Rafe up the stairs until he stopped at the next floor.
“He’ll be down here. But there might be a guard at his room,” Rafe whispered.
Mercy felt her world spin. She was so close. How could she overpower a guard?
He looked out from the shelter of the stairway and quickly ducked back. He nodded.
She considered her options. She could… hit the guard over the head with… she looked around, but there was nothing except cold stone walls. She could…
“I’ll distract him,” Rafe whispered.
“No,” Mercy gasped.
“Get as many boys as you can. You remember the way back?”
“Rafe,” she whispered. She was supposed to be the adult. She was supposed to come up with the plans. And yet, here she was depending on a boy. A young boy who had already experienced so much trauma. “No.” She grasped his arm tightly. “We’ll think of something else.”
“I know this castle. One guard won’t be able to catch me.”
Her fingers squeezed his arm. “I won’t leave you here.”
He grinned. “I know.” And he ran out into the corridor.
Mercy watched him hesitate and freeze. He then turned and ran down the corridor, away from the guard. Mercy pressed herself into the shadows on the wall. The guard ran past the stairway, chasing Rafe.
Mercy waited for a moment and then looked out of the stairway after the guard and Rafe. Neither was in view. She hurried to the first door. She wasn’t sure which door the soldier had stood guard at. She opened the door, calling softly, “Kit?”
There was no answer.
She moved across the corridor to the next door and opened the door. “Kit?”
A small boy appeared from the darkness of the room, but he was not Kit. She beckoned for him to follow her with a wave of her hand. “Come on. We’re leaving.” The child stood unsurely.
Unable to take a moment to reassure him, Mercy moved to the next door and opened it. “Kit?” Without waiting for a response, she walked to the next door and the next. Until all the doors in the hallway were open. Then she turned around.
From each room, a child, a boy emerged. They eyed her with fear and with uncertainty.
Mercy’s gaze swept the corridor, her gaze searching each of the faces. Kit was not there. Her heart stopped and a pain gripped her chest.
“Mom?”
She whirled. Kit stood behind her. With a strangled cry, she ran to him and embraced him, kissing his head and cheeks over and over. “Oh, Kit,” she said with relief. She had thought deep down that she would never see him again. But here he was, in her arms. She pulled back to look him in his beautiful blue eyes in relief and desperation. Part of her couldn’t believe she had found him. Part of her knew she would. “We’re leaving.” She looked back at the boys. “All of us. I know a way out.”
