Page 56 of A Kiss of Flame

Olivier sighed, a long and heavy rush of air, resignation in a single sound. ‘Then so am I. If I get court-martialled for this, Anselm, it’ll be on your head.’

‘I can help,’ said a small, terrified voice from behind them. They turned sharply to find Carlotta peering around a plain door to the servants’ quarters of the keep. ‘You need a way out of the palace, don’t you?’

CHAPTER 29

WREN

‘I didn’t lie to Roland,’ Anselm told Wren solemnly as they made their way to the armoury. ‘I swear that. My father will go to Castel Sassone in the lower city. It’s a fortified stronghold, older than Pelias itself. Before the Aurum and the crown, we held that building. It is a fortress in its own right and armies have broken themselves on it. My ancestors held it in siege for years when the first queen Aelyn took Asteroth, and only relented with the promise of high office and royal marriages. Roland won’t get in easily, but I can. While he’s outside, distracting them, we’ll rescue Elodie and get out. Easy.’

He made it sound like a childhood adventure, but his eyes were cold and hard. She didn’t like it.

‘Easy,’ she murmured, dubiously.

‘I know a secret way in. I grew up there, remember? Look, there are dungeons and there are tunnels, secret paths only the family know.’

‘And you couldn’t tell Roland about them?’

He grinned, that familiar reckless grin coming back now he had a plan and others on his side. ‘He’s hardly subtle, your father. He’d try to take an army through that mousehole. They would be on to him in seconds and cut him to pieces. It’s up to us.’

A chill of concern spread up her back. This wasn’t wise, was it? If it was Finn she wouldn’t hesitate. But Anselm’s father had taken Elodie, and now his son was proposing to enter their stronghold. And Wren was going with him. Not her cleverest move.

‘I wish Finn was here,’ she said, without thinking. ‘He’d know what to do.’ The two men looked at her, frowning. Well, if she hurt their pride so be it.

‘I know,’ Anselm said at last, his voice softening a fraction. ‘I swear on my life, Wren, if you must come with me I will let no harm befall you and I will bring you back out safely again. He won’t have you. I’d die first. Please believe me. I have to prove myself to your father again.’ He raked his hand through his hair and sighed. ‘But I would rather you waited here.’

Of course he would.

‘That’s not happening. You’ll need help. Both of you.’

Olivier’s smile turned gentle, indulgent, and she thought he would argue as well, though he seemed content to let Anselm take the lead. But then he didn’t know what she could do, did he? Not really. He had heard rumours no doubt. But he didn’t know the way Finn knew. Or Anselm. Anselm had been at Knightsford, and the Seven Sisters.

Wren changed briskly in the barracks, pulling on a pair of breeches and a tunic, while Olivier dug out a leather jerkin for her. It wasn’t armour but it was something. Her hair was still short enough to pass for a boy’s when tied back and some of the squires were the same size as she was. It should work.

Finn was going to kill her, she thought. Or never talk to her again. She feared it was nothing compared to what Roland would do. She could spend the rest of her days locked in her tower room, if she was caught.

And Anselm… Anselm could be headed straight for a dungeon. Him and Olivier both. As for Carlotta… Wren didn’t know what they might do to a servant. Nothing good.

But she had to do something. Finn wasn’t here. Roland was bent on a full frontal assault on whatever stood in his way. She had to find Elodie. Quickly and quietly as possible.

Carlotta cleared her throat. ‘The servants’ stairs are clear. They’ll bring you out by the postern gate to the palace walls. I can show you.’

‘And then you wait for us there, all right?’ Wren said firmly. It was bad enough she had to put Olivier in this danger – not that he would be anywhere else – but she wasn’t risking the only other friend she had made here in Pelias.

‘But I can help, my lady.’

‘Wren,’ Wren told her absently. ‘And you can help by keeping our plans secret. And by waiting to let us back in.’

‘But I…’ Carlotta embraced Wren suddenly, pulling her close. She pressed a little knot of straw and dried flowers into Wren’s hand. It looked like a bird. ‘It’s not much, but it will help. It will remind you of who you are, Wren. For luck.’

It was a charm, such as hedge witches made everywhere. Wren had seen Elodie’s, learned to make them herself but it was something she had thought left far behind in Thirbridge.

The revelation made Wren stiffen in Carlotta’s arms and open her eyes wide. There was an aura of something around the maid. She knew herbs and cures, and where to find certain flowers. And clearly she could make a memory charm. But she wasn’t strong.

That didn’t change what she was.

We are witchkind. We will live free or we die.

There were other witches in the world. Wren knew the stories about the rebel witches who didn’t serve Aurum or Nox, who lived in the wild and didn’t bow to anyone. She thought they would be strong and dangerous. People spoke of the witchkind of Garios as if they were monsters, inhuman, beings of enormous power. And when they mentioned the College of Winter, it was as somewhere austere and terrible, where people sought secret truths and honed their skills beyond anything else save the Chosen of the Aurum. They were masters of magic, wielding untold power. That was what witchkind was. Not a small girl with too large eyes and barely a scrap of power compared to herself, or Elodie, or the maidens. No wonder Carlotta had gone unnoticed. How was she here in the palace, living and working and hiding…?