Perhaps it was her fate to always be sneaking in. She’d had a brief period of legitimacy, when she’d walked in through the gates as if she belonged. But she’d never felt comfortable out in the open, not like she did now. Even her fear of discovery was a thrill of excitement in her veins as she pulled herself over the ramparts and dropped to the ground.
It was still early enough in the evening for people to be about their after-dinner business—guards making their rounds, noblemen and their families out for strolls—so she climbed the closest building to escape the torchlight below. The icy wind whipped around her, buffeting her ears. She could feel her fingers getting numb, so she broke into a run to keep warm.
She was making decent progress along the ledges until her foot slipped out from under her. Kyra gasped and splayed her limbs out wide. She landed lengthwise along the edge, one leg hanging over empty space as she scrambled to grip the stone. Soft conversation and chatter floated up to her from below, and her heart pounded in her ears as she slowly hauled herself back to her feet. She’d thought that the sun had melted all the ice from the buildings, but she’d obviously been wrong.
Kyra proceeded more slowly from there, testing the surfaces before she stepped and sticking to walls that faced the sun during the day. The difference between smooth granite and slick ice was subtle but important. Finally, she stood atop the wall of the inner compound. The prison building was a barely visible shadow in the night sky. As she made her way closer, she passed the burned-out shell of what had once been noblemen’s living quarters—Rand’s and Bacchus’s handiwork. The sight brought uncomfortable memories of The Drunken Dog, and she hurried past. Finally, she looked down on the prison from a nearby ledge and took in the entire scene.
The building was on lockdown. Red Shields stood guard all around the building’s perimeter, with six more blocking the doors. Extra torches had been lit along the paths and hung on the walls so that only the very top of the building was dark.
Make no mistake, Kyra. Someday I’ll call in a favor from you, and I’ll hold you to it.
Kyra thought of the Demon Rider raids that James had instigated, the fire, the injured along the street, the countless left without homes. Those people deserved justice, didn’t they?
She counted the guards again and imagined ways of getting past them. Just a game, a thief’s mind exercise, as she’d done before with hundreds of other buildings. There were too many Red Shields up front. A diversion might take a few away, but they were probably alert for one. Maybe with some luck she could get into the prison, but getting out with a gravely wounded James would be near impossible.
Another column of guards walked in through the gate. Kyra started to count them too but stopped. She knew in her bones that she wouldn’t be going into the prison tonight. Her debt to James did not extend that far. When she finally admitted this to herself, Kyra wasn’t sure whether the tugging at her chest was pity, guilt, or grief for the people James had taken from her.
She stood there a while longer, until the chill made her spring into motion. There was one more place she wanted to go. Her heartbeat quickened in anticipation as she approached the building that housed Tristam’s quarters. Was he even there, or was he still being held somewhere else? His room was dark through the windows, but he might have simply been out for the evening. Kyra found a spot where an outcropping offered some shelter from the wind. She’d been up there for about half an hour when she heard his voice down below.
It was Tristam, dressed in one of his finer embroidered tunics and a fur cloak. And with him, on his arm, was a woman. Kyra couldn’t see her very well from that height, but she could tell that the woman was young and that the luxurious furs lining her cloak were fit for a nobleman’s daughter. The two of them stood for a while on the path outside the building until a courtier arrived. Tristam bowed then and kissed the girl’s hand before she left with the courtier at her side.