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She swiped them away and stood surveying the room. An image of Montagne’s map came to her. She faced the rear of the room and raced back to another stack of crates filled with potatoes and apples that would be taken into the cellar and stored. Using her body to push the crates aside, she cleared the edges of the cellar door. Apples fell from one of the crates, and she tried to catch as many as she could so they would not thud loudly on the floor. Then she pulled the cellar door open and Montagne and Leroy blinked up at her.
“About bloody time,” Montagne said.
Alex must have looked how she felt because the marquis held up a hand to ward off a blow. Alex moved back, and the marquis and the locksmith climbed out of the cellar. Montagne surveyed the room. He pointed to the turret door opposite the one she’d forced open. “We’ll take that one. Close the other and let’s go.”
“You close the other,” Alex hissed and moved toward the door opposite. Of course, this one had nothing blocking it and opened easily. She pulled out her dagger again and stepped inside. Montagne and Leroy were right behind her. They raced up the stairs, Alex breathing hard and feeling as though her legs would give way at any moment.
When they reached the top, the door was already open. Alex stopped short, causing Montagne to ram into her from behind. She spilled forward and fell at a pair of booted feet.
“I was worried,” Tristan said, helping her up. “The captain will be back any moment.”
“Then I had better get to work,” Leroy said, taking a roll of linen from his pocket and unfolding it on the floor. Tucked inside were the tools of his trade, assembled from supplies retrieved from the safehouse by Ffoulkes. Montagne lifted one of the torches from the sconces on the wall and shoved it in Alex’s hands.
“Hold this.” He went to the door of the cell and looked through the rectangular viewing window. A moment later he swore quietly.
“What is it?” Alex asked. “Is he not in there?”
Montagne’s face was grim. “He’s in there. Hurry, Leroy.”
Alex looked down at the metal tools Leroy had unrolled. He lifted a long straight object with a flat end and inserted it into the padlock. “A little more light,s’il vous plaît.”
Alex lowered the torch. Her gaze darted between Leroy’s efforts and Tristan, who stood in the shadows near the stairwell. “How long do we have?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. Dewhurst’s distraction worked, but the captain didn’t like leaving me.”
“I almost have it,” Leroy said. “Ce fils de salopeis old and a bit rusty. But...”
Alex heard the snick as one of the pins gave way.
Montagne was pacing back and forth, which Alex wanted to point out was not at all helpful. If she hadn’t had to hold the torch, she probably would have been pacing as well.
“Leroy...” Montagne’s voice had an edge of warning in it. “If we’re caught, I doubt the mob will wait for the guillotine. We’ll be torn apart in the streets.”
“Shh!” Alex glared at him. But now that he’d seen the boy, Montagne was more agitated than ever. She supposed it was like a starving man who spots ripe fruit that’s hanging on a vine just out of reach. Still, every second felt like hours. She exchanged a look with Tristan, and though his eyes were wide with concern, his jaw was set. They would not leave Louis Charles behind. They would die first.
And the latter possibility was looking more and more likely as Leroy continued to wrestle with the padlock.
Then, to her surprise, the padlock snapped open, clanging loudly on the door. Leroy pulled it aside, and Montagne shoved the locksmith out of the way. They’d already decided Montagne would be the one to take the child out of his cell, but the marquis wasn’t waiting. He yanked the door open and went inside. Alex returned the torch to the wall and ran to Tristan. “Leave as soon as the captain returns. I hate that you must stay behind.”
“If I’m not here, the captain will be suspicious. The longer we keep the boy’s release a secret, the better.”
She took his hands, forgetting hers had been injured as she climbed. His eyes widened, and he tried to turn her torn hands over.
“I’m fine.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I just...I don’t know how...”
“Then don’t say adieu. We’ll meet again.”
“How? When?”
“I don’t know, but you can’t think that now I’ve found you, I’ll let you go.”
She stared at him. What was he saying? “Do you mean that—” She pressed her lips together as the sound of voices came from below stairs. “He’s returning?”
“Yes. Get Montagne and go.”
Alex hesitated only a second, trying to fix Tristan’s face in her memory. Then she ran to the cell and hissed, “Laurent! Now!”
The smell in the cell sent her reeling backward, which was for the best because the marquis emerged just then carrying a small bundle she knew must be the king, but that seemed far too small for a boy of eight. He had his head buried against Montagne’s shoulder and Montagne was murmuring to him in a reassuring tone. He went straight to the open door in the turret and started down the stairs.
