Page 77 of Heart’s Rescue

Arryn

Everything Goes According to Plan

Rowan was right about the patrols. He’d led me slowly through a city that was a lot more beautiful than I’d expected, full of sparkling fountains and lush gardens and the whisper of gentle breezes through leaves. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed growing things until I saw trees again.

But Rowan didn’t let us linger. He pulled me past the walled gardens, through hedges, and into a maze of narrow little alleyways, all while moving as silently as a cat. It made me wonder how many times he’d done this, sneaking through the Crystal City like a thief in the night. It was yet another item on my very long list of things I wondered about Rowan.

Three times we saw the patrol. Once from a hedge in the barrier garden, once from the shadows of a skinny little alleyway. And now. From inside the front gates of the Royal Palace.

They’re changing the guard, Rowan had explained. It’s almost morning, and there’s a tiny little window of time when the guards are swapping out. That’s when we sneak beneath the portcullis, he’d said.

I’d thought my heart would give out when Rowan tugged me forward and we ran beneath the sharp points of the palace portcullis. I’ve never been so terrified in my life; all I could think about was the sound the portcullis made in the Kingdom of the Summer when it slammed into the stones below.

But here we are, on the other side. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my toes, the back of my mouth tastes like blood, and my entire body is shaking, like whatever it is that had held me together this far has suddenly gone slack. The stone wall at my back is cold and rough. Before me, lanterns wink in the soft blue-green light of the glowsoft orbs. Men’s voices drift through the squares and spikes of the gate, laughing and cursing.

The Royal Guard. Returning to their patrol.

Stars above, what am I doing? Panic rises hot and sudden in my chest. Something closes over my wrist. I turn to see Rowan watching me, his blue eyes dancing beneath his hood. Stars, looking at him makes my chest ache even as the panic bleeds out of me. Why does he have to be so beautiful? So beautiful and so distant, like snow on a mountain rising high above the desert.

“—one a’ them’s on me, course,” a voice says from just outside the portcullis. “Guess I’ve just got sucker written all over me.”

I tense. The light from a lantern washes over the cobblestones at our feet.

“Ah, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

A second voice. A second flickering, golden glow on the stones. I hold my breath. My heart thunders so loudly I’m certain they’ll hear it, certain they’ll spin around and sweep their lanterns across the shadows just inside the gates. And then?

Stars, I’ve seen what our king does to trespassers, those few humans stupid and desperate enough to try for the legendary treasure vaults of the Kingdom of the Summer. He leaves their bodies to rot along the palace walls once he’s done with them. A barbaric human custom, Mother calls it. Highly effective, Petya counters.

“Could've happened to anyone,” the second voice continues. “Besides, you know you’re not the first.”

There’s a laugh, a rough, uneven bark that makes me jump. Footsteps echo off the stone. How does the King of the Fall handle trespassers? I’ve heard some kingdoms bury them in the Spirit Wood. Sometimes before they’ve had the chance to die.

“True, true,” the first voice replies, and he sounds slightly farther away this time. “I tell ya, that bastard’s gotten more and more—”

The lantern light fades from the stones at my feet. The voices grow softer, the individual words blending into an indecipherable susurrus of complaints. I try to inhale as quietly as possible.

“Let’s move,” Rowan whispers.

I follow him. What choice do I have?

We snake through the first courtyard, keeping our backs to the wall, and climb a wooden fence to enter the stables. I’m expecting horses, but most of the stalls are filled only with shadows and whispers. Rowan picks his way past a pair of sleeping goats, eases open another gate, and then we’re looking at a wall. A wall with an iron door in the middle.

“So,” Rowan whispers. “We have to do this at the same time.”

I stare at him. He walks to the wall beside the door, presses his right hand to the stone, and then gestures for me to do the same. The stone tingles with magic in a way that makes me very, very nervous.

“Follow me,” Rowan whispers.

I look up. He’s got his palm raised and all five fingers pressed to the stone. Biting my lip, I do the same thing with my hand. He twists his wrist to the right. I do the same. The magic hums a little louder, strong enough now to make my fingers tremble.

“Now press,” Rowan says.

With his eyes on me, he flattens his hand against the stone. I mimic his motions, press my own hand into the wall. Magic purrs against my palm; the iron door swings inward on silent hinges. I let the breath I’ve been holding go in a long, shaky exhale.

“Come on,” Rowan says, sweeping inside the gate.

I follow. “So that’s why you needed me,” I whisper.