Lucio strode to the door, smirking at her over his shoulder. “I’ll send some ladies to show you to your room. You’ll feel better after you’ve bathed and changed.”
She sat back, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “I’ll feel better when I’m not being held against my will.”
He laughed, throwing the door open. “I always knew I’d like you, Emelina.”
THIRTY-SIX
AREN SHIFTED ON the tree branch, his gaze fixed firmly on the fortress. He’d been up a tree with Iria for at least an hour, waiting for Lera guards or soldiers to leave.
“They may never venture beyond the walls,” Iria said. She was straddling a branch on the other side of the tree, her legs dangling.
“That would be stupid. You have to send people out to scout the area, especially if you see something suspicious. They must have seen the smoke.” The smoke from the fire he lit on the other side of the fortress was no longer visible in the darkness, but the lookouts must have seen it. Aren was counting on it, to draw a few guards into the forest.
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh, arching her back.
“I can watch by myself if you want to get down.”
“I’m fine.” Her dark hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and a few pieces had escaped and brushed her shoulders. She pushed a strand out of her face, her eyes catching his. He was staring.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly in question, but he didn’t look away. He wasn’t close enough to reach out and touch her. Who had decided on this wildly stupid position in the tree?
Right. That was him.
She let out an exhalation of air that was sort of like a laugh. If they’d been closer he might have brushed her hair behind her ear and seen if it made her smile again.
He quickly looked away. He needed to focus. He was never going to get into the fortress to talk to Cas by staring at Iria.
“Do you really think Cas will know anything?” Iria asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m sure Em will head back this way if she escapes August. I’m sticking near Cas until I find her.”
Iria nodded, then lifted an arm to point straight ahead. “Look. They’re leaving.”
He straightened and followed her gaze. The fortress gates opened, and a group of about ten guards walked out.
“Perfect. Let’s go.” He gripped the tree branch and quickly climbed down. Iria’s boots hit the ground a moment after him, and they both took off running. Aren ran as quietly as he could, ducking around tree branches and keeping Iria in the corner of his vision.
He’d chosen a route with heavy foliage, so it was unlikely that lookouts could see them in the darkness. He stole a quick glance at the back of the fortress. He didn’t hear any yelling, which was a good sign.
He slowed to a stop as they got closer to the guards and ducked behind a bush. Iria crouched down beside him.
It looked like the guards had split into two groups. Three men and two women were walking away from them, swords drawn. Aren had been hoping Galo or Mateo would be among them, but it seemed he wasn’t that lucky.
“It was here,” a woman said, nudging the remains of Aren’s fire with her shoe.
“Can you tell which way they went?” a man asked.
“No. Certainly not in the dark. It was probably just some warriors or Ruined passing through.”
“Just?” the man repeated. “I don’t know about you, but that sounds bad to me.”
“Let’s go back,” the woman said. “We’ll inform the king and see what he wants us to do.”
The guards turned and began walking back to the fortress. Aren closed his hand around a rock, his gaze on the guard in back, Nico. Aren had met him in the Lera castle.
He tossed the rock into the trees across from him. It landed with a soft thud. Nico whirled around. He opened his mouth to speak and Aren grasped Iria’s hand, focusing his Ruined power on Nico’s neck. Nico’s eyes widened as he grabbed his throat. He opened his mouth wide as if he was trying to yell, but no sound escaped.
Aren ran to him as quietly as he could, carefully watching the guards in the distance. Their backs were still turned as they walked to the fortress. Nico’s eyes widened in recognition.
Aren dropped Iria’s hand, grabbed Nico from behind, and pulled him out of sight of the other guards. Iria grabbed Nico’s wrists, yanking them behind him.
“Don’t panic,” Aren said quietly. The feeling of Iria’s skin still lingered on his hand, his Ruined power buzzing inside him. His magical grip on Nico’s throat felt almost effortless. “I’m only going to hold on until you pass out. When you wake up, we’ll be gone. But I’m sorry about the clothes.”
Nico’s eyebrows lowered in confusion, but there was no time for explanations. His head lolled to the side a few moments later.
Aren and Iria carefully lowered him to the ground and pulled off his pants and jacket. Iria averted her eyes as Aren pushed down his pants and put on the blue ones. He shrugged out of his jacket and buttoned up the guard’s jacket. He handed his clothes to Iria.
“Wait for me in the tree where we were before,” he said.
“I know.”
“If I’m gone too long you should just leave. It’s not safe to stay here. Especially for you.”
She let out a soft laugh. “I’m not leaving you, Aren.” She jerked her head at the fortress. “Go.”
He took off, resisting the urge to look back at her. She was probably already running to their meeting spot anyway.
He sprinted away from the guards who’d been with Nico and came up on the fortress gate from the other side. The other group of guards weren’t far behind him, and he slowed a bit so it would look like he was with them.
The gates were still open, and he ducked his head into his chest as he walked through. There had to be at least a hundred guards here who knew what he looked like. He needed to find Cas, quickly.
He put a hand on his neck to cover his Ruined mark as he approached the front doors. He pulled one open, not daring to look up at the men guarding the entrance.
Inside, the fortress buzzed with noise, and he risked lifting his eyes just slightly as he crossed through the entryway. Two soldiers rushed past, pausing to glance at Aren. He quickly turned away and scratched his cheek.
“I have a report for the king from the scouting group,” he said.
“He should still be in his room,” the female soldier said. “Did you find anything?”
He shook his head and quickly walked past them. He had no idea where Cas’s room was, which posed a problem. He couldn’t ask where it was without giving himself away.
A stairway loomed in front of him, and he sidestepped an older woman and started up. The king’s bedroom was probably somewhere quiet, as secluded as possible. The second floor seemed a good bet.
He stopped at the top and looked left, then right. Many of the doors were closed.
An unfamiliar woman with a basket full of clothes walked in his direction.
“The king?” he asked carefully.
She tilted her head to the doors behind her. “He’s in his room.”