Page 119
Agnar
My boots make no sound on the flagstones as I creep through the well-lit night. Esme follows three paces behind, equally silent, but I trust she’s still with me. She stays quiet, disturbed by something she won’t tell me about. We’re both dressed in our darkest clothing, blending in with the night as we approach the courtyard housing the Everhand.
After nearly a week of sitting on our thumbs and waiting for a break, tonight, we have a real chance. Raucous party noise drifts through the palace grounds. The last celebration before tomorrow’s final battles. Of course, none of the fighters attend. We’ve all got better things to do. But the nobles are getting hammered and distracting the guards.
Their debauchery gives us the perfect opportunity to attempt to steal the Everhand one last time.
Pressing my hand to the wall we hide behind, I send my magic lightly through it, amplifying the vibrations so I can track movements. “The way is clear for now. Are your shadow spinners ready?” One more turn, and we’ll be in the artifact room. All my senses switch into high alert, my heart pumping slow but hard.
Around us, following the four cardinal directions, the palace courtyard stretches out like a chess board. Every ten paces switches to another square ten paces across with a different style of walls and pillars. We’ve traversed four without being seen. From the center of any of them, you can see to the end of the grid.
The next one will bring us to the center of the geometric courtyard and our real goal. Unfortunately, it’s also the one that can be seen from every direction.
Esme’s hand touches the pouch at her belt, and her beetles scatter across the floor in a dark stream. She’s been quiet tonight, snappish when she does speak.
My fault, probably. I rejected her again, and she’s still processing. A tiny part of me feels bad about it, but the rest of me is focused on keeping her alive and whole.
After tonight, my rejection won’t matter.
Esme will get the Everhand, leave to cure her kingdom, and become a hero to her people. I’ll forfeit my match with the Onyx Knight, return to Tirene, and try to forget the way her eyes looked every time I pushed her away.
Her shadow spinners cluster at the threshold, writhing in patterns I’m starting to recognize as distress.
“What is it?”
She frowns in concentration. “There are more guards than we thought. It was supposed to be a skeleton crew tonight because of the party.”
Checking again, I don’t sense any movement ahead of us. The guards dutifully surround the prize case. “Can you still lead them away?”
She ignores me.
Seconds later, a light flickers three squares over, purple, then blue. A second after that, a green streak darts to the next square.
“What’s that?” One of the young male guards asks.
Armor clanks as guards shift. “Is that…a fire?”
“Colored like that, it has to be swamp gas. If it hits the banners, the whole tournament field will burn down.” Four sets of footsteps chase the light glinting off the shadow spinners’ shells.
Finally, Esme nods. “They’re gone, but we need to hurry.”
We creep along the wall. Once we cross this square, there will be nothing to hide behind but waist-high decorative marble walls and pillars covered in ribbons and tournament banners.
The Everhand sits on a pedestal in the dead center of the square, exactly where it’s been for the entire tournament, taunting us by being so close yet so out of reach.
The guardian creatures coil around the crystal case, scales gleaming in the light and reflecting it in shattered prisms. If they aren’t the locks themselves, then they cover the actual locks with their writhing bodies.
The guards are gone, drawn off by Esme’s ruse, but they’ll be back soon when they realize there are no fires.
Esme approaches the case with careful, almost reverent steps. The guardians’ eyes swivel to track her approach, their forked tongues flicking out to taste the air.
I hang back, keeping watch. This is her part. I’m here for the heavy lifting if things go wrong.
She reaches the case, holds both palms flat in front of the crystal, and closes her eyes.
For a long moment, nothing happens.
The creatures continue their assessment of her, their scales rippling in an oil-slick shimmer. One of them uncoils slightly. Its eyes fix on Esme with something akin to recognition.
