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“Very well then,” Gideon said. “Let’s go.”

“Thank you,” Leila echoed.

* * *

They galloped to the manor house, stopping a distance away to leave the horses behind and avoid alerting anyone to their arrival. St. John and Payne stayed back to watch for Townsend or the Shadows, while Gideon and Leila proceeded further.

The tall, spiky fence surrounding the manor kept people out, and inside, numerous guards patrolled the grounds, crossing paths every five minutes.

Leila climbed the fence, landing gracefully on her feet, while Gideon ascended with a few rough grunts, ultimately falling rather than landing in the dirt.

Leila stifled a laugh.

“Oi, when I was your age, I could scale it just as easily,” Gideon said in a mock chiding tone. “With age comes wisdom and aching joints.”

Leila covered her mouth to suppress her laughter. “There, there, ihtiyar,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Old man,” she explained with a grin. “A wise and respected one, if it makes you feel any better.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can live with that.”

With the mood lightened, her nerves settled as they hid in the shadows of the gate, waiting for their opportunity. They had studied the layout of the house and knew every possible entry point. But due to the guards, they had only about four minutes to approach the building and make their entry—nine minutes if they managed to silently dispatch a guard.

They dashed to the building as soon as the guard vanished from sight. They managed to pry open a window just in time, with Leila rolling into the building first. Gideon’s feet cleared the window just as another guard turned the corner.

Silently, they made their way inside, avoiding every guard, though the place was crawling with them.

They headed toward the servants’ stairs and ducked on the first floor, narrowly evading the guards.

Fortunately, the first floor was less crowded, with only one guard patrolling. Gideon quickly subdued him and stuffed him into an empty closet.

They checked every room for prisoners, but each was empty. What purpose did the guard serve then?

“He likes to keep his prisoners underground,” Gideon whispered.

“Yes, but Emir was never kept as a prisoner. More like a guest who wasn’t allowed to leave,” Leila pointed out.

“So were you. Until recently.”

Gideon was right, and the thought of her brother being held in a cold, damp chamber underground for two months chilled her to the bone. She jolted, eager to get downstairs, but too many guards occupied the ground floor. They wouldn’t be able to get past them all.

Heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs, growing closer. Someone was approaching the first floor. Another guard.

Gideon tugged her toward another stairwell, and they ascended to the second floor.

This floor was completely empty, though the guard’s calls could be heard from there. He was making his way toward their stairwell, likely to ascend as he looked for his friend—the guard they had disposed of.

Before she realized it, Gideon pulled the hairpin from Leila’s braid, rushed to the side, and opened the nearest door, tugging her into the chamber. He locked the door behind them, and they pressed their ears against it, listening to the guard’s approach. He walked past but paused nearby, still calling out the other guard’s name.

After a moment, he grumbled something under his breath and walked away.

“We should go now,” Leila whispered impatiently, but instead of leaving, Gideon ventured further into the room. He lit a candle boldly and approached the desk.

“Look around,” he said. “It seems we are in Townsend’s study.”

Leila glanced at the mahogany shelves lined with leather-bound volumes and the massive desk that dominated the center. They were indeed in a study.