Page 85 of Last Rites

My chest tightened.

“They’ll beat us back to Ashpoint,” I said, my voice trembling. “We’ll arrive to find Kit dead and his body given to Eeus. He would never want that, Rosie. He’d want anything but that.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes fixed on the doorway through which the commander and Ben had disappeared. Tears stung my eyes, and I shut them, then turned my face into Rosie’s hair. Time crawled, mocking me. Each passing second reminded me that delay was a death sentence.

Kit didn’t have time. I didn’t have time.

“Rosie,” I hissed, careful not to let my voice carry beyond her, “untie me.”

She stiffened and sat upright. “Penny, I⁠—”

“No,” I snapped, my voice low but urgent. “Listen. The ward commander and Ben will be gone for a while. Busy. I can’t sit here all night knowing what will happen. What I might be able to prevent⁠—”

“And how will you prevent it?” she demanded, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “Even if you caught up, it would be you alone against all of them. You’re worried about what Kit would want? Anything but that, Penny. He’d rather die than lose you.”

My jaw clenched and I shook my head. “If he dies, he loses me anyway.”

Rosie’s hands trembled in her lap. She glanced toward the doorway, then back at me, and I could practically hear her heart hammering. The fear in her eyes made my chest ache, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. Not when Kit’s life hung on what I chose to do next.

“Rosie, please,” I said at length.

She cast another glance toward the soldiers who remained in the tavern, a look more furtive than the last.

“They’ll notice,” she whispered.

“They won’t,” I replied. “Not if we’re quiet. I’ll go out the back. Come morning, you can lead them to Ashpoint. You know the way, don’t you?”

“Well enough,” she admitted.

I shifted, turning my back toward her and exposing my bonds to her capable hands.

I was prepared to plead with her again before I felt a tug on the ropes, a tentative pull followed by a more focused effort on loosening the knots. Breath left me in a rush, and I smiled through a fresh wave of tears.

“Thank you, Rosie,” I whispered over my shoulder, then said it again with all the sincerity I could muster. “Thank you.”

The ropes fell away.

I rolled my shoulders while Rosie untied the knot at my ankles. When that was undone, I drew my knees up, testing my freedom. My wrists were raw, the rope’s memory biting into my skin, but the pain was nothing. I flexed my fingers, pressed my palms to the floor, and slowly rose into a crouch.

The soldiers were preoccupied, having helped themselves to unattended barrels of ale. The threat to Forstford was dissolved for now, so they could relax.

I could not.

Past the knot of townsfolk who sat up straighter to hide my passage, the nearby serving counter offered cover. Behind it lay the kitchen and—if luck held—a rear exit. I’d go out a window if I had to, then slip into the night in search of a horse to borrow.

With the rest of the townspeople gone with most of their livestock for safekeeping, finding one might not be easy. But the troops arrived on horseback. Countless mounts that would be well within reach and likely unattended.

This was a terrible idea. Dangerous. Reckless.

I was stealing from the militia, escaping what felt like imprisonment, and risking any credibility I’d managed to earn with the commander. Though, considering she’d left me bound, I hadn’t earned much.

Rosie watched me, and I wished she’d look away. Her attention felt damning as I scuttled along behind the bar toward the entrance to the kitchen.

Inside, the air was thick and laced with the smells of food. The cooking fire had long since been extinguished, and I crept swiftly past the hearth.

The space was cluttered with pots and cauldrons, knives hanging from hooks, and bundles of herbs dangling from the rafters. A long table held bowls of dried grains, a few loaves of crusty bread, and clay pitchers of water.

The commander had the good sense to gather supplies, and so did I. I scrounged a burlap bag from beneath the table, tucked two of the bread loaves inside it along with an entire bowl of apples and a small sack of mixed nuts, then armed myself with the largest knife I could find. It wasn’t as intimidating as Ben’s butcher blade, but it would still draw blood.