“Your pronunciation is not the best,” she said gently.
He tried several more times until she deemed his performance satisfactory enough to move on. They continued like this, phrase by phrase, laughing at his mistakes and sending wayward phrases into the trees. He’d almost made it through what he thought was the first stanza when Adele stopped him with a touch to the elbow. She was looking into the forest again.
“Some of your kin?” he asked, suddenly tense. Adele, he was always happy to see. But the others…
She stared in that direction, then shook her head. “It’s Kyra. And someone else.”
Kyra came into view a few moments later. Her face was smudged with dirt, and she moved like it hurt to do so. And was that blood seeping through her tunic?
“Kyra, what happened?” Then he saw Tristam a few steps behind her, looking equally beat-up and still wearing his Red Shield livery.
Kyra looked between Flick and Adele, confused for a moment, and then seemed to put the matter out of her mind. “Have you had news from the city?” she asked.
“Not today. But Mercie went in to find out what the excitement was.”
Kyra lowered her eyes. Flick could tell from the way her brows knitted together that the news was big, that it had to do with her, and that he wasn’t going to be pleased.
“Out with it,” he said.
She spread her hands apologetically. “Things have happened,” she said. “And we need your help.”
Flick knew that the Palace compound had two main gates, one in the north, and one on the south wall. These were the only ones opened on a regular basis. What he hadn’t noticed until tonight was the presence of smaller gates. According to Kyra, these were usually double-locked and guarded, although select noblemen living within those walls had keys. A few hours past midnight, a man had entered through one such gate, and now Flick waited in a nearby alleyway for him to leave.
He heard a faint metallic creak, followed by quick footsteps that echoed down the empty street. Flick ducked deeper into the alley as the man walked past. A few moments later, a shadow passed overhead—Kyra was trailing him on the rooftops. Flick pulled his cloak tighter and settled down to wait.
Kyra dropped off the roof a short while later, landing softly in front of him. Though Flick could not see her face clearly in the darkness, he could hear her panting from exertion. Kyra was dressed for work in a dark tunic and trousers, with her hair tied back in her characteristic ponytail. He’d seen her like this hundreds of times, and after all the craziness of the past few weeks, it was nice to see her back to form.
Flick had been…less than pleased to learn what had happened at James’s execution. But somehow, after berating Kyra for her harebrained, risky scheme, he’d immediately agreed to help her with another one. Kyra had argued that this new mission was important, and this time, Flick agreed. If there was any way to stop Willem’s Demon Rider offensive, they had to try. Flick’s conversations with Adele had convinced him that peace with the Makvani was possible, but only if Forge didn’t embark on such a disastrous attack.
Kyra dusted off her hands. “The messenger’s staying at an inn called The Drowned Cat,” she said. “Not the most auspicious name for an inn, is it?”
“Mayhap it refers to the contents of their stew,” said Flick.
Kyra stifled a giggle as they made their way to the inn. The windows were dark, and the road was completely silent. They slipped into an alleyway across the street, where Tristam was already waiting.
“I’m guessing he’ll leave tomorrow morning to blend in with the other travelers,” Tristam said.