And I obeyed.
The door lay in splinters on the street, and Martin stood staring at it as though it was the first time he’d ever used his formidable strength. I grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the palace grounds. But as we rounded the corner of the library, we ran up against four guards.
“Sluag in the library,” I shouted. “His Majesty is fighting them alone. Go!”
For a moment, I wondered if I had erred. Whether they’d see it as an opportunity to rid themselves of their King once and for all. But not one of them hesitated.
The librarian seemed at a loss of how to make his way unseen through the city, so I took the lead, scampering down back alleys and through courtyards, always keeping to the shadowy routes my friends had shown me.
But that could only take us so far.
The gate to the River Road was closed, and several armored trolls stood before it, silver eyes watchful. The right branch of the river and the narrow path running next to it were undefended, but there was no way to reach it without the guards seeing us.
“Will they stop us?” I whispered even as I recognized Guillaume amongst them and knew I couldn’t risk him spotting me. He was as much Angoulême’s as Albert had been.
“They’ll do more than stop us.” Martin rested one hand against the building. “Curfew is in effect, and even if it wasn’t, there’s no reason for us to go to the lake. It was Prince Tristan’s haunt, and his father’s before him.
“Then we’ll have to rely on illusion,” I muttered. “Once we’re by them, there won’t be anything between us and the outside.”
Martin’s shoulders shook, and I realized he was laughing. “As if that were some small thing,” he said. “You’ve been fraternizing with the nobility – the most powerful amongst us. What they can do… The detail. The concentration.” He shook his head. “The guards will see right through my attempt and then question our duplicity.”
“You’re something of a defeatist, Martin.” I chewed on my bottom lip, considering our options. Which, near as I could tell, were none. “It’s not a good trait.”
“I prefer the term realist.”
“I’d prefer you thought of a solution.” The city had gone mostly silent, but there was no way of knowing whether it was because the King and his men had killed all the sluag, or whether the sluag had killed them and were now hunting for us.
“How long can you hold your breath?”
All thoughts vacated my head, and I turned to stare at him. “Why?”
“A human once came in through the falls in a barrel. He survived the impact. It’s possible,” he said, cringing as though the speculation were physically painful, “that I could replicate a barrel with magic.”
“Possible.” All too clearly I remembered how I’d almost killed myself leaping into the river, saved only by the quick thinking of élise. The rapids were as deadly now as they’d been then – more so, given the freezing temperature, chunks of ice smashing against the bars blocking the river’s path to the sea. If Martin misjudged his capability, it would be us smashing against those bars. He might survive it. I certainly wouldn’t.
He licked his lips. “Maintaining the structure itself will be simple enough, but I’d need to render it opaque so we wouldn’t be seen, which makes any form of navigation a challenge. And there would be a limited amount of air to breathe, so…”
If he passed out, his magic would lose its form quickly, and we’d be bodies in the water.
Leaning out of the building’s shadows, I peered at the tiered streets lining the valley walls. Here and there, lights flickered, and I knew we were running out of time. “You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You could hide. It’s me they’re after.”
“I want Angoulême to pay for what he did to élise,” Martin said, rising into a crouch. “That won’t happen if you’re dead. And besides,” he added, taking my arm and drawing me through the shadows toward a bridge embankment. “The King does not take kindly to those who disobey his orders.”
“He might be dead.”
“I don’t deal in mights.” He pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my ribs, his fingers digging into my side. “Deep breath.”