Page 53 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"You had a trim only last week."
"I might cut it off altogether."
"No!"
I felt his grin against the top of my head. "You need time to get used to the idea."
"A lot of time. I like it the way it is."
He massaged my scalp. I closed my eyes and sighed. We sat like that for a long time, not speaking. I didn't feel the need to fill the silence, and it seemed he didn't either. When the coach jerked forward, I opened my eyes.
"We're moving," I said, reluctantly breaking contact.
His eyes, half hidden beneath hooded lids, followed me as I slid along the seat away from him. "Are you ready?"
"Of course. I'm looking forward to it."
We stopped again in a street I didn't recognize but had townhouses similar to those in Mayfair and Belgravia. Lincoln alighted first and did not lower the step or assist me down. I jumped.
"Come on then." I skipped off, beckoning for him to follow.
He caught up to me, the satchel slung over his shoulder. "You need some practice first," he said.
"You want me to scale one of these walls as practice?" I asked, waving at the nearest house.
"Not quite." He led me down a lane and then into a yard surrounded by stables. "Climb that far wall."
I looked at the wall. It was well above my height but the three crates stacked nearby told me we weren't the first to climb over it. It was dark now and we were alone in the courtyard, except for a horse snuffling in one of the nearby stalls. I arranged the crates and scrambled up. I could just reach the top of the wall with my fingertips if I stood on my toes. Using my shoes for grip against the brickwork, I hauled myself up.
It was a lot harder than the last time I scaled a wall. I was heavier, for one thing, and the muscles in my fingers were out of practice. It took me three attempts.
I dropped silently to the other side. Lincoln landed beside me a moment later. He got over the wall with his first try.
"Good," he said simply. "A fair effort."
"Fair? It was bloody good," I said, slipping into my street cant.
"It wasfair, Charlie. You used to be better."
"Huh. I see you're as brutally honest as ever."
He stopped suddenly. There was just enough light from the hissing streetlamp for me to see his frown. "Did I hurt your feelings?" he asked. "I thought I was making a simple observation."
"I know, Lincoln, and no, you didn't hurt my feelings. But if you ever observe that I've gotten fat, you should lie."
"I'll keep that in mind."
I rolled my eyes but he wouldn't have seen in the dark. "A better response would have been: 'You'll never get fat, Charlie. Yours is the sort of figure that couldn't put on a lot of weight.'"
"I'll keep that in mind too."
I laughed. I was no longer sure if he was serious or teasing me. "Come on. Let's visit the princess in the tower."
We waited across from Gillingham's house and watched as Lord Gillingham left in his carriage. Light edged the drapes in one of the third floor windows. The curtain briefly fluttered, revealing Lady Gillingham, before closing again.
We waited another hour in the shadows for the passing coaches to thin. Being winter, no one was out walking, and the street grew quiet. Lincoln tied the rope around both our waists and we silently approached the house. With a quick glance to see that we weren't observed, he used the external plumbing pipe to scale the wall. My eyes had grown used to the darkness, and I was able to see where he placed his feet and hands. I easily followed him. Neither of us spoke, and my body settled into a rhythm, as if it remembered how to move up a vertical surface. It was exhilarating and more satisfying than I could have imagined. I paused only once as he took a moment to look down and check on me.
"Keep going," I whispered.
