Page 72 of Bloodguard

“Not in pieces,” I counter.

When we hit the alleyway, I don’t stop to argue. I run ahead, my hand around her wrist. If she digs in again, there’s a good chance I’ll pull her arm from its socket.

“Keep moving,” I order.

We weave down a series of alleyways. I don’t know where the hell we are, and after taking two consecutive lefts we run the risk of turning a square and circling right back to where we started.

“Shit.”

I pause. Maeve sighs. She points to a red house. “There. That building.”

I look ahead to the horizon, where the sun has begun to disappear behind the mountains. That’s when it occurs to me how truly late it is. The encroaching darkness will cover any trail we leave, so there’s that. We can weave through this town and lose them before circling back around to our horses at the market.

But the cover of night will also benefit Soro and his pack of guards, concealing whatever atrocities they might commit.

“Do you know this place very well?” I ask.

She still isn’t thrilled with the idea of running, but she’s resigned to my plan—at least for the moment.

“We’re just at the outskirts of the new development project Father took over for Papa.”

The red house has a heavy metal door, and even I can’t get it to open.

The stomping footfalls of many guards echo along the narrow streets. They’re coming. And at a quick clip.

I can’t let them get to Maeve. There’s no telling what Soro would do to her in a sadistic state like this.

I spin and draw my sword.

She slaps her hand over the scabbard. “Not yet.”

She points up to the second-floor balcony of the bright-orange house next door. Maeve takes a running leap, barely making a sound, flips over the rail, and lands. She turns and offers me a hand.I’m good, I mouth, hoping she doesn’t expect me to pirouette or some shit.

I follow without any help, though not as quietly. And without any flipping. Bloody hell, it’s like she’s a damn acrobat. We leave the balcony door open. I can hear the guards close by—maybe even below—and any movement would only attract their attention.

I glance around the dim room.

Well, hell. This is a kitchen. It has maybe one or two rooms branching off it and stairs that lead into the rest of the house. Multiple families must live here.

We’re mice in a box.

Maeve checks the closed doors. One has shelves stacked with bowls and wood platters, a bag of dried beans, and a second sack of grains. The other opens into the bedroom next to it. A dead end. So not real helpful, either.

“There,” I whisper. I point to the hearth.

Maeve doesn’t question me. She hurries over, glides around the cooking vat, and squats down. After a quick look up the chute, she glances back at me, grimaces, and then starts to shimmy up.

I can’t fit around that giant cauldron the way Maeve did. It’s suspended on a beam by iron hooks, so thankfully I can swing it out and slip behind. As I squat in the hearth, taking care to step on the edges of the hearthstone and not the ash or burned logs at the center, I see what Maeve was grimacing about. It’s as tight as a sewer pipe. I don’t know that I’m going to fit. And sure as shit, this isn’t the best idea, but something tells me confronting Soro and his guards right now would be even worse.

She swears her papa is innocent, and that means her grandmother’s killer is walking around free. Vitor is in control right now, and by extension, so is Soro. Being alone in an isolated part of the city, where he’s stirring up trouble to have an excuse to arrest the innocent…

No good comes of us crossing paths tonight.

If Maeve dies, there is nobody to stand in the way of one of them taking over the throne—permanently. I’ve heard all about the crown reverting to the other five houses, but I for one think they’d have a hard time supplanting Vitor. Like a sabre-cat, he’s sunk his teeth in deep.

Cinders and ash are dislodged while Maeve shimmies upward, hands and feet against the wall in front of her, leaning back so her body is wedged against the other wall of the chimney. I follow her lead, back pressed against the opposite wall, and then pause, remembering I moved the cauldron. I drop down a few feet and extend my leg to pull the beam back in. By the time it’s in place, the clomp of feet on the stairwell echoes through the walls.

Maeve braces and spreads her legs so I can climb up higher.

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