He turned, his eyes intense on mine. “Shall we?”
I exchanged a look with Phoebe. Rage burned in her eyes as she gave a sharp shrug. Rachel just looked confused.
I nodded to Bran. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
With an impertinent wink, he turned and spoke quietly into the gelding’s ear. “All right, boy. Pull hard now.”
We stood back as Bran Cameron hauled at the horse’s reins. The animal’s muscles bunched. My body strained with it, urging it on. Go. Go. Go.
The creak of leather. The squeal of bending iron echoed against the walls.
We’re going to get caught. All of us thrown into cells to rot. Or hang.
Already I could feel the dank walls closing in, the scratch of rope around my neck as the gallows dropped.
Hurry!
With a horrible screech of metal, the entire unit of bars ripped from its moorings. One ragged edge slammed into the side of my calf as I leapt out of the way.
Bran didn’t waste a second. He unhooked the rope from the bars and tossed it down into the shattered window. “Can you climb, mate?” he called quietly down into the cell. “Do I need to come after you?”
In answer, Collum’s blood-caked blond head appeared in the opening. “No,” he said as he scrambled the rest of the way out. “And just who the bloody hell are you?”
“Shh.” I cringed as Collum’s hoarse accusation carried across the snow. Ignoring the question, Phoebe and I clasped him under the arms and helped him stand. “Be quiet. We have to—”
“Oy!” A shout boomed down from an arrow slit a few stories above. Silhouetted against the flickering light, the guard yelled, “You there! Halt!”
“Brilliant,” Bran quipped to Collum. “Since you’ve alerted the guard, I’d say this is no longer a clandestine mission.”
With a deft hand, Bran untied the rope, dropped it, and casually leaped into the saddle. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he leaned down and let his knuckles brush gently down my cheek. “I’ll meet you on the next block. I’ve taken rooms at an inn in Cheapside. They’re not the most luxurious accommodations. But they’re clean enough, and no one will ask any questions. Hurry now.”
He kicked his mount into motion, heading around the side of the building as the rest of us fumbled through the snow to the small postern gate. Muffled cries of alarm rang out behind us, but William Lucie was there to open the gate and hustle us through. He frowned when he saw Collum, but at a quiet word from Rachel only locked the small gate and turned away.
Chapter 35
WITH A GROAN, COLLUM PULLED HIMSELF ONTO PHOEBE’S HORSE. His voice was taut with forced control. “Who,” he said, “was that boy?”
Phoebe mounted behind me. Neither of us answered as we cantered away, leaving Collum to follow.
Dawn painted the tattered clouds in rose and lilac as Collum trotted up beside us. He hunched over his horse’s back, nursing obviously-battered ribs. In the pinkish light, I got my first clear look at him. I groaned inwardly at the sight of his broad face, a ghastly bloody mask of swollen eyes, bent nose, and horrific bruises. Behind me, Phoebe stiffened against my back.
Though she hid it like a trooper, I could feel the shakes rattle her small body as she quickly explained how I’d come up with the plan for the oil of vitriol.
Collum didn’t blink. “Answer the question.”
“Does it matter?” I said. “He helped us, didn’t he?”
Even as I said it, I still wasn’t sure of Bran’s motives. We could be walking into another trap. But something in his expression when he’d looked at me . . . I wanted to believe him.
Collum’s scraped knuckles gripped the reins too tight, making his horse nervous. “He isn’t from this time. I know what I heard. And though I may be a fool,” he said, “I’m no idiot.”
“You sure about that?” Bran nudged his gray gelding from a shadowed alley. “I’d say your idiot status is debatable at the moment. After all, who steals from the king at his own coronation feast?”
Collum kicked his horse forward. “Who the bloody hell are you?”
Collum’s heftier mount pressed in, causing Bran’s slim gray to stumble back. Bran glanced in the direction of the looming Tower, where shouts echoed up into the dawn sky.
“While I’d love to share some serious bro time with you, mate,” Bran said, “maybe we ought to hold off until we don’t have a cadre of the city guard running up our tails?”
Without looking back, Bran raced off. We followed until we were blocks away and the shouts of alarm had long faded. In this poorer area, the houses leaned on each other, as if for comfort. Two by two, we walked our mounts down the middle of the snow-packed street. Above our heads, shutters were thrown open and night soil splashed down onto the new snow.