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Elena felt Aiden stiffen, and then hesitate, even though he was touching her nowhere but on her arm.
“I went out to see my boyfriend,” she answered the soldier. “But I won’t do it again, sir. My brother,” she indicated Aiden, “came to get me home before my father finds out.”
One of the soldiers laughed, then another joined in.
Elena said nothing but smiled as if she were shy.
Aiden jerked her arm not very gently and pulled her a step or two.
“I’d keep her at home for a little while, a week or two,” the commander said. “If your father can’t keep her in order, then you’d better. It’s not a good time to be around alone.”
“Thank you,” Aiden replied. “Good advice.” He said that to Elena, rather than the soldier.
They walked away, around the corner, and a hundred yards along the next street before they spoke again.
“Where are we going?” she asked a little breathlessly.
“Somewhere safe. I haven’t decided where yet.”
“Safe…for how long?”
He did not look at her. “Until I can work out how best to get out of here. I was hoping against hope that Max was still alive, but there’s no getting round that he’s been murdered. They’re after us, Elena, or at least after me. I’m afraid this is real, it’s a matter of survival. Have you still got the list?”
“Yes, of course I have. But it’s my job to get you out, not to get out without you.” As soon as she said the words, it sounded final, an irretrievable commitment. How much did she mean that, and why? For Aiden? Or because it was her promise to Peter Howard or, really, to Lucas?
She glanced at Aiden. He had the same expression he had had in the past, when they would have an adventure together. Daring, imaginative, with that touch of real danger that made it compelling, a beat in the blood that would remain long after the reality was lost.
“I suppose you have something in mind,” she said, staring straight back at him. “This is no time for games.”
“I do,” he said softly. “But you won’t like it.”
She swallowed hard. “Does that matter?”
“Not really. Come on.” He pulled her forward, off the street and into an alley. Just as the sound of marching feet echoed twenty or thirty yards away, he slammed her up against the wall of one of the buildings and pulled her skirt up, then lunged toward her, holding her by the hair. He forced his face close to hers and began to move rhythmically against her.
The marching men went past, calling out crude remarks. One of them asked for the next turn. Aiden ignored them all, as if he had heard nothing. Their footsteps faded away and he stopped and let her skirt fall back in place.
Elena gasped and tried to control her shock.
“If you didn’t like that, you’ll hate this,” he said. “We need to take the alley down to the water. There’s a small canal that goes through this part of the city toward where we need to be. We can make our way to it along the back streets. It’s narrow and steep, but it’s not the end of the world. We can go along—it’s not so very deep—and if we fall, the water will be cold and filthy. God knows what’s floating in it, but probably nothing alive to do us any harm.” He waited, almost as if he expected her to refuse.
Was he doing it to test her? Don’t be stupid, she told herself. He needs to escape as much as you do. To her own ears, she sounded as if she meant it.
Without hesitation, he led the way through the alley to the edge of what was little more than a large ditch. There was a narrow ledge above it, then steep sloping sides without anything to hold on to or climb back up if she fell in. He turned around once as she hesitated. She must be easily visible in the glimmer from the end of sunset. She could see him clearly, too, like a figure of bronze. He made as if to take a step toward her, to come for her or perhaps even to turn back.
She stepped forward, slithering a foot or two on the wet stone, then finding her footing and walking along the narrow ledge, six inches at a time, after him.
He turned, no longer
watching her, and went on ahead.
It was a nightmare walk. The slimy stones beneath her feet, the crumbling wall on the right, and the dark filthy water to the left. But she made it all the way to where the ditch emptied into a narrow black-surfaced canal. Now what?
She was standing beside him, and she could see in the fading dusk the curve of his lips. The image was almost clear in the soft graying light. He held out his hand.
She placed one foot on the stones, then the other. He dropped down into the water. It came almost to his chest and he was five inches taller than she.
For an instant she froze, then she forced herself to slide off, a little clumsily, and the cold water came up to her neck. She found it difficult not to shiver. It was harder still to take the steps forward and down even further, until the water lapped her chin. If she lost her footing, she would go under. She could already feel the gentle pull of the moving water, sucking her into one of the real canals and then the bay, and then out to sea.
