Page 56 of Reaper's Ruin
“Invitations?” demanded the guard, a stern-faced woman with intense blue eyes.
“We’re kitchen staff,” Rhyker replied smoothly. “For the coronation feast.”
Her eyes narrowed. “All staff should have been cleared in advance. Where are your papers?”
“Our overseer was supposed to arrange them,” he said, and I was impressed by his quick lie. “He said everything was taken care of.”
“Well, it wasn’t,” she snapped. “No papers, no entry. Security has been tightened since the recent... incidents.” Her expression turned grim. “Everyone must be accounted for. No exceptions.”
She waved us aside, already turning her attention to the merchants behind us.
We stepped away from the gate, moving out of earshot of the guards.
“Now what?” I whispered once we were far enough away.
“Now we see if the way I know is still unguarded,” he replied, a hint of determination in his voice. “I’ve been watching this place for centuries. There’s always another way in.”
We left the gate, and I followed him into the woods onto a narrow path that wound through a dense stand of trees crackling with strange energy. After about twenty minutes, we reached a small clearing where the city wall was partially hidden by undergrowth.
“This section of wall is rarely patrolled.”
I eyed up the formidable stone barrier skeptically. “How are we supposed to get over that?”
Rhyker jutted his stubbled chin up toward the top of the wall at least twelve feet high. Probably taller. “I’ll boost you up, then follow.”
“And how do we get our stuff over?”
In answer, he simply hurled one of the bags over the wall with a casual strength that made my mouth go dry. The second bag followed immediately after.
“Right. Super strength. Got it,” I muttered.
He approached the wall, examining it briefly, then turned to me. “Ready?”
I nodded, stepping closer to him.
He stepped behind me, hands sliding around my waist as he gripped me tightly. The sensation of his strong hands wrapping so easily around my waist gave me a small shudder that turned into a big one when he hoisted me up with the same amount of effort as if I was one of the leaves on the trees surrounding us.
“Can you reach?” he asked, holding me suspended in the air.
I stretched my arms up as high as I could, but the top of the wall remained frustratingly out of reach. “Not even close.”
“Get on my shoulders,” he said, crouching down.
I stared at him. “What?”
“It’s the simplest way. Climb on my shoulders then you can stand on them and pull yourself over.”
Oh God. Stand on his shoulders? This meant my dress would be... over his head. His face would be... I swallowed hard, heat rising to my cheeks at the thought.
“Is there another way?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t betray the inappropriate thoughts suddenly racing through my mind.
“We could find another section of wall, but we’d risk running into patrols,” he replied.
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Shoulders it is.”
He crouched lower, and I awkwardly positioned myself behind him, placing my hands on his broad shoulders. With a silent count to three, I hoisted myself up, swinging one leg over until I was perched on his shoulders like a child at a parade.
Except nothing about this felt childish. Not with his hands gripping my calves to steady me, not with the awareness that my dress had ridden up to accommodate the position, not that my crotch was now pressed against the neck of the most dangerous Reaper in Faelora.
