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“Average people aren’t clean?” She scowled as he added more dirt to them both. It took all her effort not to flinch away or try to remove it.
He snorted. “Not all the time. Okay… not most of the time. All right, yes. Travel is messy.”
“Enough, enough. I’ll be sure to slosh in every puddle. Let’s go.”
She eased out into the ditch and took the three steps up to the road, veering to the dimmest corners near the shops as soon as she could. He followed, leaving what remained of his wardrobe-door shield behind in the tunnel. It’d be a clue, if they found it, of how they’d escaped and their direction, but there was no way a man walking around with a piece of a wardrobe door tied to his arm wouldn’t draw some unwanted attention.
On one uneven cobblestone, he stumbled, the gasp and wince at the pain further igniting her alarm. “What is injured?” she whispered.
“It’s nothing,” he said through clenched teeth. “Keep going.”
Lying was not Jav’s strong suit. Her brow creased with worry, but what could they do? There was no way to get help, no one to go to. She couldn’t see any blood, but he kept his arm close to his ribs, his jaw tight.
They passed a cobbler’s shop, and she sighed at the lovely leather creations in the window. The shoes she had on were hopelessly inadequate outside of a palace. That was one mistake she’d made in her haste, she realized now. She had somewhat sturdier shoes, but in her original plan, she would have put them on for her escape. But everything had gone sideways. Regardless, they wouldn’t have been much better than these pathetic palace slippers. They weren’t real boots. She hadn’t been able to find a way to acquire serious traveling boots without actually asking to travel, which her traitorous parents would never have allowed anyway.
It no longer mattered. They had what they had, and somehow, they had to escape the city before they could think about the next steps.
She kept her head low, the cloak hiding her. He walked at her side, trying to look casual.
Three cross streets passed before a group of palace men finally turned the corner in front of them. She faltered, slowed.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured. “Act natural.”
“Won’t that look suspicious?”
“Not at nightfall. And you also wouldn’t be the first person to stare at her shoes while she walked. Stay close. I’ll do the talking. Act like you’re too good for them. That should be easy, because you are.”
She snorted, then ducked her head again. “I’d rather go with feigning shyness.”
“Suit yourself. Here, give me your hand,” he said. “That’ll look more natural.”
She swallowed as his fingers intertwined with hers. “How many more streets?”
“Three, then if we turn left, we should be close to the forest.”
She nodded, and they quickened their pace.
Voices from another patrol echoed off the stones behind them as they turned left. Not good. Too many patrols were too close.
His thoughts must have been the same. As they neared the next cross street, he nudged her toward it. But they didn’t make it far before the back of another building stopped them.
“Damn it. A dead end.” He ran his hand through his hair. “What I wouldn’t give for a sword about now.”
“What do we do?” She grimaced, also wishing he had his sword. When he’d come to her room, he’d only carried his dagger. Clearly, he’d not been planning on having to defend himself. “Do you see anything we could climb?”
He cast his gaze around them. The next building had a slanting roof with a little balcony jutting out from it, complete with a flower box decorated with pine boughs for the winter season.
She pointed at it. “If we could get up, maybe we could hide in there.”
He frowned. “Assuming there’s no one inside. I think I could lift you at least part way, but there aren’t any handholds here…”
The voices grew louder in the street, someone shouting. He beckoned her closer.
She tried not to wince at his firm grip on her under the armpits as he hoisted her up. He, of course, did wince, but seemed to swallow down the pain with shocking control. Focusing on the roof, she managed to grip its upturned edge and began to pull. Once she had a hold, he slid his hands down her sides, and she tried to ignore the tiny thrill that shot through her at the sensation. His hands found her hips and pushed her higher.
How she managed to get onto that roof, she had no idea. But she got there. Soles of her palace shoes slipping against the tile roof, she scrambled for purchase, any attempt at grace abandoned. Her hand found a post of the balcony’s railing, and she heaved herself up and over.
Just in time. As she sank into a ball behind the railing, which hid all too little, a voice shouted down the alley, “You there! What are you doing?”
