Page 35 of His Noble Ruin

Voices came from the other side of the fence. I hadn’t been quiet enough.

I got to my knees, frantically searching the damp ground for my bag. When I didn’t see it, I peered upward. There it was, hanging high above me on an iron finial, separated from me by a seven-foot-tall prickly hedge.

I swore just to keep from crying.

If I didn’t have my knives in there, I could’ve left it. But no, my book was there too. And the book I’d stolen. Every single thing in there would send all the Enforcers in Cambria into these grounds to capture the criminal who dared to break so many laws.

I had to get it.

I reached into the hedge, but the brambles caught my sleeves and hands, piercing and scratching my skin.

I backed away, furious with the stupid bag at the top of the fence. My foot hit something, and I tripped and fell for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. My hands landed on a broken branch. I picked it up and climbed onto shaky feet.

I stepped back to the hedge and reached the branch up. It wasn’t quite long enough, so I pushed against the brambles, the twigs snapping with the pressure as thorns tore into my skin.

There.

The branch caught the strap and I lifted it up over the finial. Twigs crunched under my weight as I pushed into the thorny hedge, so loud in the night that they seemed to echo off the nearby stone wall. I pulled the bag to me just as Enforcers’ boots slapped against the cobblestones on the other side.

“I don’t see anyone,” a man said.

“That’s because it’s dark, idiot,” said a woman.

“What should we do?”

“Youshould search the grounds,” the woman replied.

“Me? How? I don’t have the key.”

“Then find another way in.”

I hurried deeper into the grounds, weaving between trees and bushes. My surroundings darkened to black as the lamplight from the street faded, but desperation enhanced my senses and my ears caught every rustle.

I made it to the side of the mansion, searching for a way in, but boards covered all the doors and windows. I went around the back, but it was the same. Every entry was blocked.

The rattle of gates traveled through the dark to my ears.

Time ticked by without mercy.

I looked back at the boarded-up house and took a knife from my bag. Wedging it between one of the wide boards and a door frame, I carefully pried, popping a nail out into my hand. With the first nail gone, I moved on to the second.

Twigs broke somewhere on the grounds, accompanied by the sound of footfalls on the grass.

I hurried to the third nail, prying it out slowly to keep the rotted wood from breaking. One nail was all that remained. With the rest of the board now loose, I pivoted it down to reveal a doorknob.

The glow of torchlight shone on the ground beside me.

I checked the knob. Locked.

But therewasa tiny gap beside the knob where the door met the frame. I slid my knife into it. A click later, the latch released.

The footsteps came closer. I pushed the door inward and dropped my bag inside before diving headfirst between the boards. At the last second, I reached for the loose board and lifted it over the empty space.

“Hello?” a man’s voice called from the other side of the door.

I shut my mouth, cutting off my ragged breathing.

His torch shone brightly through the cracks, so close that its heat warmed my face.

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