Taillefer caught up, adjusting the buttons of his guard’s tunic, the pointed edges of the folded map sticking through the fabric. Amarande did not comment on the map, rather she simply pushed aside the tapestry to reveal a small square door cut into the wall approximately four feet from the floor. She released the latching mechanism that kept the door closed, revealing a chute and cart on a rope pulley.
Taillefer’s lips quirked. “A dumbwaiter?”
“Yes. My father always went into battle with as much reference material, histories, and hand-drawn plans as he could reasonably carry.” Amarande knew very little of King Louis-David’s military exploits but highly doubted the man ever got close enough to the front to yearn for strategy tomes in his royal tent.
The prince leaned into the dumbwaiter, gleefully pulling on therope mechanism and watching as the cart moved up and down. Amarande relieved him of the rope and yanked it hard enough to pull the cart up so that it revealed an unblocked shaft. All they would have to do was slide down two stories to the courtyard. “Get in.”
Taillefer bowed in a way that made Amarande look away, reminded of his older brother’s practiced politeness at her father’s funeral. “Ladies first.”
“Not on your life.” She drew her dagger and gestured. “In.”
“Okay, okay.”
Amarande drove the dagger through the rope, pinning it in place. Then she held the door open. Taillefer positioned himself on the banquette so that he could sweep one leg over and then another. “I would recommend bracing yourself against the sides as much as you can so you don’t break your ankles on your landing.”
Legs in, he twisted to brace his boots against the shaft, which was barely much wider than his shoulders. One hand gripping hard against the doorframe, Taillefer arched a brow at her. “Have you done this before?”
“Yes. Many times.”
Taillefer hesitated. “Will they know? If they trace us to the library, will it be a dead end or will they know exactly what you’ve done and race to the yard?”
“The only person who knows I’ve done it is not here.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.” Taillefer’s brows pulled together. “You must have been much younger. There’s no way that he would fit in here now, what with those shoulders, and biceps, and—”
“Just go, would you?”
For once, Taillefer did as he was told without trying to get the last word. Amarande counted to twenty—enough time that she felt confident from her previous experiences with Luca that she wouldn’t land on him—and followed him into the darkness.
CHAPTER19
AMARANDEthudded through the chute after Taillefer and landed in the treeless training yard. Immediately, the prince started up again with his teasing questions.
“Now tell me, what particular mischief were you two up to when you decided that would be the best way to leave the—”
Amarande cut him off with a palm thrust over his mouth. The princess gestured to the military housing across the grass—many of the windows were open and gaping with newly washed uniforms hung out to dry in the breeze. “Ears and eyes are everywhere here, not just within. Come on, to the stable.”
Under her direction, they stuck to the shadows under the eaves of the Itspi, walking quickly, not running. At the sharp angle of yet another meandering curve, Amarande paused abruptly. Taillefer bumped into her with an audibleOOF, nearly knocking her down. She steadied herself at his expense with a tight grip on his shoulder, yet again covering his mouth with a bruising palm. Then, when they were both settled and silent, she pointed—across the field that lay between their current location and the stable—upward to the ramparts of the main gate.
It was crawling with guards. Not simply a four-man crew like the night she arrived, but more than a dozen. And that was just what was visible.
Amarande hadn’t counted on this—another protective addition, like the guards within the castle. For a few quiet moments she read the shadows, judging how long they would be exposed as they made for the stable. Tried to come up with a plan better than luck. But before she got there, Taillefer tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed behind them.
The North Tower of the Itspi was ablaze with torchlight.
The princess inhaled sharply.
“Our window of escape is about to slam on our fingers,” Taillefer whispered. “What is the plan?”
Amarande’s mind raced with the best possible strategy other than speed and stealth.
“If you don’t have one,” he announced quietly, “I’m going double or nothing on my modicum of trust.”
“You will do no such thing.”
But Taillefer was already unfolding from his crouch. “It will be my neck on the line, not yours. Wait here. You’ll know when to move.”
Before she could object further, he was strolling straight for the gatehouse at the main entrance to Itspi. Uncovered and unbothered, his chin held high, his royal face revealed and possibly recognizable from yards away.
