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We all nod, gathering our weapons.
Before Numair can leave, Elin pulls him into a hug that feels like it’ll never end. “Be safe, will you?”
He ruffles her hair with a smirk. “What’s the fun in that?”
With a clack of his heels, he leaves the house with a couple of daggers in his boots, a pair of revolvers on his belt and the mask of the rebellion tucked safely in a backpack slung casually over his shoulder. It’ll take him a long time to circle through the Slums and all around the Rich Quarters to arrive at the outer wall of the palace closest to the dungeons.
Priya and Izod are the next ones to leave in the opposite direction to cross the Eternal Enclave and meet up with Numair.
Minutes trickle by in a tense silence, until Valdus climbs to his feet. Elin wraps her arms around him before offering another hug to me.
“Come back safe, you two. Hear me?”
Valdus nods and tugs me out of the house and toward the empty streets. With everyone back in their homes, only the patrols amble the streets in search of troublemakers like us. We have to retreat to the shadowed alleys and abandoned houses each time we cross their paths, which happens much more often that I thought it would. The whole city is crawling with Magnar’s soldiers.
When a patrol chases us into the depths of an alley, Valdus picks up my chin with his metal fingers. “Are you still sure about this?”
The palace walls loom high over the roofs, hiding the sky of glistening stars, but no matter the beauty of this city, I can’t tear my gaze away from him. The man who had offered me everything I’ve dreamed about and more.
“I’m sure about the rebellion. About saving our family from Magnar’s clutches,” I say, cupping his cheek, the thick stubble rasping my skin. “And I’m sure about you.”
Valdus leans closer, until our breaths mix into one. He had said once that I was like a breath of fresh air to him, but he doesn’t know he has stolen every single one of mine.
“It’ll be over soon,” he mutters against my lips and swallows my reply with another kiss with so much heat that the desert has nothing on it.
40
The guards find something of more interest than moving shadows in the city filled with them by the time the bell on the barracks tower of the palace chimes midnight and let us slip through the streets unnoticed. We have only a quarter of an hour left to reach the meeting point. Yet when we arrive winded from the run, we’re not the only ones who are late. Izod and Priya only shake their heads when we ask for news of Numair.
An echo of boots falling on stones ripples through the city. We’re only a couple of streets away from the palace, and I don’t dare to take out my revolver. As the sound grows strong enough for my heart to mirror its tempo, I reach for my swords.
When even Valdus has pulled a dagger from a sheath on his belt, Numair finally emerges from behind the corner. Perspiration rolling down his brow, he stops with his hands on his knees. For a moment, the only sound is his labored breathing, until the click of the hammer being set back makes him look at us.
“Ain’t gonna lie. I’ve had warmer welcomes.”
“What happened?” Valdus asks, cutting his attempt at a joke short.
“A beggar in The Slums took a corner he wasn’t supposed to. Guards made a fuss about it. It happened to be on my route.” Numair shrugs. “I had to wait for them to clear out before I could move.”
We all sigh in relief when no soldiers storm the alley behind him.
Numair’s metal finger slides down the edge of my blade with a rasp. “Would you mind getting that out of my face?”
“Come on,” Valdus says, pulling his mask out of his bag. “We’re already late.”
“Let’s not make the guards wait any longer for their prisoners to be stolen from under their noses.”
Valdus’s glare is enough to shut Numair up, so he tugs his mask free of his bag. Before putting it on, he steps toward Valdus, gazing toward the palace. “We can find another way.”
“One day away from the execution?” Valdus asks, his features unreadable behind that mask of paint and metal that had me cowering when I saw it for the first time. His voice becomes muffled when he speaks again. “You know what that means as well as I do.”
Numair clutches his mask a tad tighter before sliding it on his face. He was ready for this answer. He has heard it time and again throughout the trip.
Without complaint or protest, Numair glances at the time ticking away on the gigantic clock on the palace. “We’re late, but the next patrol coming through here is still a quarter of an hour away. We have to be deep in the palace when they come around that corner.”
I follow his finger to the high walls with metal doors carved into them. The doors I’ve seen The Key to the Empire break open for me a lifetime ago.
“Let’s go,” Valdus says, starting in the other direction.
