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If I didn’t, I’d be at a dead end.
I stayed in the alley and peeked around a corner.
A couple dozen men and women crowded the library steps, their voices talking over the other. An Enforcer went through the doors and another came out. Who knew how many were in there hoping I’d make an appearance?
I could do nothing but wait in the alley, watching while citizens passed, the sun moving higher in the cloudy sky. I sat on the ground, trying to think up some other plan. Eventually, the clicking of hooves and the creak of a carriage made my ears perk up. I jumped to my feet again and checked around the corner.
A black carriage stopped down the street, a good distance from the library. After a moment, the door swung open. A man stepped out, dressed in commoner’s clothing and holding a book under his arm. A pair of guards followed.
A weight lifted off my heart at the sight of that lonely figure. I smiled through my surprise until I realized Graham could be part of a ploy to draw me out from hiding.
But it didn’t matter. I’d made up my mind.
He came closer, then slowed as the crowd on the steps quieted and turned toward him with hungry eyes. I noticed the notebooks and quills in their hands.
Journalists.
Of course. They’d come hoping to witness my capture and now they’d get a bonus: the disgraced heir of Cambria.
They rushed down the steps like a wave and enveloped Graham before he could take a step back. They swarmed in, pushing closer and closer. A flurry of questions assaulted him, and he disappeared from view. He must’ve still been trying to walk toward the library steps because the crowd shifted in that direction.
He reappeared, moving up the steps with his head down and an arm held out to keep the crowd at bay, but the journalists maintained their tight circle, following him up the stairs and into the library.
When the doors closed with a thud, I could only stare at the forbidden building. I leaned against the rough wall beside me. It could be hours before Graham came back out, and when he did, he was sure to be surrounded.
I had to find a way to get to him.
I lifted my head and looked around the corner again. Graham’s carriage remained where the coachman had parked it. I couldn’t go into the library to get Graham out. There was no question about that.
But someone else could.
I smiled and got to my feet, a new energy lifting my hope. Cael hadn’t come back yet, but I couldn’t have stomached the idea of asking him for help anyway. Still, there was one other person on this street who didn’t want to wait all day either.
I turned the corner and headed toward the carriage, my hands covering my bag. An Enforcer squinted at me from the bottom of the steps. My breath caught until his eyes moved lazily away.
The carriage was only a few paces down the street. It wasn’t marked with the Brennin’s insignia. I suspected Graham did not get his mother’s permission to take the family carriage and had been forced to hire one for the day. I hadn’t decided what to say yet, but I knew the coachman wouldn’t believe me if I tried to tell him Graham was my friend.
I stopped and cleared my throat when I came to the side of the carriage. My overeager journalist act would have to be obnoxious enough to be convincing. “Excuse me, sir. Excuse me! An interview, please?”
The coachman leaned back in his seat and stammered out a reply. “What? With me? Are you sure you’re speaking to the right person?”
“Well, an interview with his driver isn’tideal . . .”
The man’s eyes widened. Graham had likely paid him not to reveal this information.
“. . . but every other journalist in Cambria has Graham Brennin cornered inside the Irvine Library, so you’re better than nothing,” I said.
He tilted his head back and muttered to himself, “I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”
I stepped closer, grinning widely. “Thank you! So, my first question is—”
“No, no,no.” The driver held up a hand. “I’m not saying anything, so don’t waste your time.”
“He must be paying you well, then,” I said.
He shrugged.
“So, it could be better?”
