Page 82 of Silverbow
“So what? We let him die?” Enya clutched the horse head carving, the only anchor she could find in the sea of swirling rage and grief.
“Him or you, Ansel.”
“You don’t know that!” She snapped. “I can look after myself. I can’t justleavehim here. He’s myfather.”
“Enya,” Colm said gently.
Out. I need to get out.
Colm seemed to realize it first, and he threw the window open before Enya could cross the room that seemed to grow smaller by the second. Oryn propped open the door that adjoined his room. Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t stop the tears that pricked at the back of her eyes. She strained to hold them in, but the pressure built. The walls kept coming closer.
“Enya-”
“Get out,” she gasped.
She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the boots to fade, willing herself not to cry in front of the immortal warriors. The door to Oryn’s room closed softly. Behind her eyelids, she could see her father in the drawing room of Ryerson House, reminding her to breathe.
She had to breathe. She had to think. She had to find a way. Enya moved to the window for air. She leaned against the frame and looked down into the narrow alley. She had to get out of this inn and to the outpost. At least see it for herself. Her fingers curled around the windowsill, brushing against the vines that climbed the wall. They were thick and rope-like. Enya trailed her fingers along them, staring at the drop. There was no getting down the hall, but the window…
She reached out and gave a handful of the growth a tug. They were thinner than she’d like, but they tangled together in a dense web. Enya reached for another place and pulled, testing. The vines stayed put. She bit down on the laugh that tried to escape her.
If Oryn bloody Brydove isn’t going to help, I’ll do it myself.
She tiptoed across the room to retrieve her belt knife from where it stuck in the wall and gathered her bow and quiver. She was not going to be packed off to Drozia without even trying. She hadn’t even wanted to claim sanctuary. Windcross Wells was meant to be her end. She would rather end up captive than trying than beg sanctuary knowing she’d left her father behind.
If you really do favor me, please don’t let me fall.
Enya swung one leg over the windowsill and toed around for a foothold. She sank some of her weight into it, testing. When the lattice of vines held, she swung her other leg over and balanced precariously on the ledge. She found a handhold and slowly shifted off the windowsill. Breathwhooshedout of her as the vines shifted just a few inches and caught. She stole a glance down at the paving stones and her stomach dropped to her boots. She wrenched her eyes up to the vine covered wall in front of her face.Don’t look down, you fool.
With a steadying breath, she kicked a foot loose, toeing for a lower hold. Heady relief flooded her when it held and she pried white knuckled fingers from the tangled mass to reach down. She’d only scaled a few feet when with a terrible, slowpop pop pop, the vines beneath her hands tore away from the wall. Enya scrabbled for anything to hold on to, bloodying her knuckles against the brick, but she came up only with handfuls of loose leaves.
Before she could draw breath for a scream, she plummeted.
She didn’t have time to do anything but fling out her hands, bracing for impact as the paving stones rushed toward her face, but something hard and solid, like a rope tied around her middle, jerked her up. Any breath she had left was ripped from her lungs and her ribs cracked beneath the force of the impact.
She blinked, hovering with her nose less than a foot above the alley. As suddenly as the unseen bond had appeared, it vanished, and she dropped harmlessly onto the paving stones. She rolled over, gasping for air, to see a silver head disappear from the open window.
Bloody wonderful.
“I can’t believe she actually did it!” Aiden’s voice drifted from the back of the inn.
“I can,” Bade sighed.
Enya considered making a run for it, but pushing herself up to sitting was enough to make her bite back a moan. Her two immortal sentries came to tower over her.
“Let’s go, Ansel,” Aiden ordered.
“I think I broke a rib,” she wheezed.
“I would have let you break your fool neck,” Bade answered.
She couldn’t hold in the whimper as Aiden hauled her to her feet. He studied the alley, tapping a finger to his lips, but he shook his head and slung an arm below her shoulders. It was as much in support as it was a cage as they crept back up the stairs. With a hiss of pain, she was deposited in Oryn’s room and his companions departed on quick feet.
His fury seemed to ripple off him in waves.
“I presume you are the reason I didn’t smash into the paving stones?” She asked. His glower was answer enough. She winced as she shifted in the chair. “I think you broke a few ribs. You could at least he-”
“Do you have any idea what a risk it is to wield anything at all inside a city with a wielder’s outpost?” His voice was soft, edged with a danger she hadn’t heard before. “Colm did it for you to walk the dream. Now I’ve done it to save your neck. We’ll be lucky if half the wielders in Windcross Wells don’t descend on this inn in the next five minutes.”
