Page 72 of His Noble Ruin

“Keep climbing. They won’t shoot.”

An ear-splitting shot rang out. Stone crumbled from above, showering me in dust. I ducked my head and closed my eyes. My hands seemed to be frozen in place.

I was wrong.

ChapterTwenty-Five

“There will beno killing on my property!” a deep voice bellowed.

The reprimand steadied my shaking hands and sent a smile to my lips. I lifted my hand to the next knot. As I did, the rope shifted downward the tiniest bit.

“Bryn, your rope!” said Graham, looking past me.

I looked up. I was nearly dangling by a string. About six feet above me, the fibers were unraveling where the pistol shot must’ve hit. I tried to swing toward Graham, but the movement made another thread snap. I held on tight, not daring to move an inch upward.

Graham tightened both hands on a knot and pushed his feet against the wall, trying to get to me. His rope caught on a protruding stone up above, keeping him at a distance.

I reached out to him.

He slowly released one hand and reached out for mine, but we still weren’t close enough.

Another pistol shot echoed and stone dust exploded on Graham’s left.

“Forget it,” I said. “Just climb. Now!”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine!” I said, hoping it was true. I reached for my knives and pulled out two. I’d climbed with knives before in order to attach the ropes in the first place—but not in the dark under the nerve-wracking threat of pistols.

“I said not to shoot!” came a voice from the ground.

“But, sir, they’re escaping!”

“That’s not my concern! My daughter is watching from her window at this very moment. I don’t fancy her witnessing bloodshed. Kill the defectors, by all means, but not in front of her!”

I gripped a knife in each hand and lodged one into a gap between the stones where the mortar had crumbled. Then I did the same with the other, my arms trembling. My rope snapped and slipped out from under my feet. My body slammed into the wall, but my knives held.

This was suddenly not so simple.

Graham jerked his head around.

I dug in the toes of my boots and moved a knife up to another crack. “See? I told you I’d be fine.” I kept moving, lifting one knife at a time, the steel handles digging into my palms.

Graham stared open-mouthed.

I kept it up until I reached the frayed end of the rope. I grabbed hold of a knot with one hand, then pulled myself up and reached the next, returning my knives to my bag once my legs were wrapped around the rope.

“Climb!” I told Graham for what felt like the thousandth time.

He kept going.

I could still hear noises from below, but the wind drowned out the distant voices so I could only catch words here and there.

“. . . capture . . . the other side . . .”

“Go. . . . We’ll stay . . .”

We kept going until there was no more wall to climb.

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