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And yet I couldn’t force the words out. From the moment of our meeting, Harlowe had been as a father to me. Once Harlowe knew his son not only lived, but had been so close for all these weeks, his heart would naturally leave me and go to Roden. It may have been greedy on my part — I knew that it was — and yet I felt desperate for any sort of family. I did not want to give Roden this gift. Not yet anyway. I wanted a father.
With that, I scowled inwardly, berating myself for my unforgivable selfishness. I already had a father. Not alive, but I had his name and history, and memories I could hold on to. Some of them were better than others, but the failures were my fault as much as his. Once again, I recalled the image of having stood before him in the great hall as he accused me of being a thief. I should have explained then why I had taken the coins, and made him understand me. Or better yet, I should have tried to understand him. If I had, I knew now that my father would have helped that widow.
Whether we understood or agreed with each other, I had now come through enough war to accept that even if he and I would make different choices, he did have reasons for the choices he made. And wherever in the afterlife he wandered, I believed that my father was watching me, and knew I had my own reasons too.
I had to tell Roden.
And I started to say the words, because I knew he needed to be told. But I wondered if it would be cruel to give Roden the knowledge of his father before I knew whether we would survive. Perhaps it would only add to his pain as the noose was tightened around his neck, knowing he had come so close to the one thing he most desired.
“You do have a plan, right?”
Roden had continued in conversation with Imogen, though I had drifted into my own thoughts. I turned to him. “What?”
Roden rolled his eyes. “A plan for us to escape.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “Not really.”
His jaw fell open as I spoke, which I thought was rather bold. He might not have spent much time in chains and dungeons recently, but I certainly had. And Farthenwood was now filled with soldiers who’d consider it a personal honor to kill any of us in an escape attempt. Working through those challenges wasn’t exactly as easy as, say, planning an evening menu. For now, my entire plan came down to four small words: try not to die.
“Not really?” Roden asked. “Jaron, night is passing quickly. In only a few short hours, they’ll come for us. You must have something.”
I closed my eyes, and then opened them to look at Imogen. “When Roden and I are taken away, we’ll make a big fuss with the guards. Enough that any vigils nearby will have to come and get control of us. That will be your chance to escape. You know where to go until this is over, correct?”
“The hidden passages.” She had been a servant here and probably knew the secret entrances as well as anyone could.
“Conner obviously knows about them too, but I doubt anyone will consider it worth the effort to look for you, even if they remember you’re missing. Just stay in there, hidden as well as you can until you know it’s safe to come out.”
Roden wasn’t convinced. “How big of a fuss will this require?”
I grinned. “Catastrophic levels of bad behavior. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”
“You have a sick idea of fun.” Roden’s cool expression seemed less than enthusiastic. “When we do this, will they hurt us?”
That made me sigh. “You’re the captain of my guard, aren’t you? Surely you can take a few hits by now. Besides, the pain will be forgotten once the ropes go around our necks.”
“I don’t want a rope going around my neck, Jaron! That’s the part you need to figure out.”
“Well, it probably will! You have to settle with that reality before we can figure anything out.”
He calmed down and my attention went back to Imogen. With the wound in her shoulder, this night had been hard on her. But she was trying to stay strong and smiled back at me when our eyes met. I was overwhelmed with love for her. The warmth of it filled every vein of my body, consumed my fears and anger, and left in their place only a desire to be happy. It was what Mott had wished for me, to find happiness, to accept love as a far stronger force than any weapon. I ached to think of Mott, with no idea of whether he had survived.
“I promise to devise a plan,” I said, “but until then, I think we should play a good joke, for when the vigils return for us.”
Roden cocked an eyebrow, intrigued by the suggestion. Imogen muttered something about the foolishness of boys. She was probably right about that, so I couldn’t argue her point. Also, I loved her, so I had no intention of arguing.
It took some straining against my chains and some creative footwork, but eventually I nudged the old bandages in the corner toward me. Once I had them in my hands, I unwound them to their full length.
“What are you going to do with those?” Roden asked. “You’re not injured.”
“The vigils are forbidden from harming me tonight. Vargan was very clear that I wasn’t to come out tomorrow looking like a martyr.” My grin widened. “But don’t worry, Avenia already fell for this trick once before. They love it.” I was remembering when I was with the thieves and had used bandages to make Vargan think I had the plague. Neither Imogen nor Roden were with me then, so they didn’t understand the joke. But they would soon. I maneuvered my hands enough to wind the bandage around my ankle and calf, and then tucked the end back inside the wrapping. It was haphazardly done, but considering the limitations of my chains, I was actually impressed with the finished product.
“That’s your trick?” Roden asked. “Can’t you take this seriously?”
“If you understood what Vargan’s men did to me, you’d know exactly how serious I am.”
“Jaron, tomorrow we are —”
“Hush now,” I said. “Imogen needs to sleep, I need to think, and you need to . . . let me think.”
