Nearing midnight, the party is in full swing. I make my way across the dance floor toward the staircase, shouldering past two chubby ladies and purposefully treading on the toes of an older gentlemen. No one seems to be feeling any pain or taking any notice of me. I arrive at the staircase and stand on the second step, sipping delicately at my drink as I survey the room. The crowd swells between the foyer and the Great Hall and all royal-blooded parties seem suitably occupied. I scan the room one more time, feeling a twinge of nervousness when I fail to locate Will. His absence hopefully means that he won't be disrupting the jailbreak, but I would have liked to reassure myself with one last glimpse of him. Nothing for it: it's now or never.
I step down off the staircase and into the hallway that runs alongside the Great Hall, placing my drink on a side table and holding up my skirts as I quicken my steps. The crowd has thinned here and I tread silently down the path before slipping through the servants' east door, emerging just outside the courtyard on the side nearest the gaol.
As I predicted, no one is about. The last shift change has ensured that the guards are all at their designated stations. This route should be clear long enough for me to make four trips between the gaol and the courtyard without being noticed.
After glancing once more over my shoulder, I slip into the alleyway behind the gaol and retrieve my guard's uniform from the ale barrel. I hitch up my skirts and pull the guard's trousers and tunic on over my dress, tucking away the bright fabric before I reach for the armoured breastplate and belt. I kick off my sandals and stick my feet into the boots, then affix the sword to my belt. Finally, I secure my hair back beneath the hood and pull the dark scarf up over my face.
I inspect the pouch at my waist. Inside are a flask filled with spirit and mixed with the dried mushroom I borrowed from Will, some strips of leather thong and spare handkerchiefs. Satisfied, I stick my head out of the alleyway, checking that the coast is clear before I take a deep breath and stride purposefully to the gaol's front entrance.
Pushing open the heavy front door, I exchange a cursory nod with the gate guard. He barely glances at me before rising to his feet with a groan and reaching for the keys at his waist.
"The party showin' any signs of slowin' down?" he asks conversationally as I move toward the open gate.
"No sir, it'll be going on 'til dawn at least," I reply.
I pass him, then spin in place, grip the hilt of my sword and whip it free of the scabbard. The poor man barely gets a chance to register what's happened before I pummel him on the back of the head and his unconscious form crashes to the ground.
There is no turning back now.
I retrieve two pieces of thong and a handkerchief from my pouch; quickly I bind the man's hands and feet before gagging him tightly. I lift his shoulders and drag him so that he is hidden behind the desk. Hopefully, I will have time to get back up here and retrieve him before he wakes up. For now I will just have to pray that no one comes in and notices a passed-out, trussed-up gate guard.
Grabbing the keys from where they fell, I descend the stairs as quickly as I dare without my footsteps raising an alarm. I slow my pace near the bottom, recalling the way sound echoes in the dank space.
I turn right at the end of the hall, aiming for the table where my two favourite bozos have already begun helpfully drinking themselves into a stupor. The sour scent of bad whisky hits my nostrils and, as I draw up next to their table.
"Ah remember you." The larger man cracks one eye open as he regards me.
"Mind if I join?" I ask.
He lifts his glass and I sink down into the third chair, taking care to keep my face out of the lantern light. Bozo number two sits across from me, already slouched forward and half-asleep. He utters a healthy snort as I settle myself.
Bozo one makes to pour me a glass of whisky, but I shake my head. "Brought my own." I retrieve the flask from the pouch at my waist and brandish it toward him. "It's good stuff, too. Wanna try?"
"Let me see it." He takes the flask from me and studies it. "What's this?"
"Moonshine," I grunt. "Hard to get, can't find it anywhere." I lean back in my chair, rocking on the back legs. "I got a source, though."
"Huh."
I watch with satisfaction as he tilts the drink down his throat.
I nudge Bozo two with my boot. "How about you, buddy?"
Bozo one wipes his mouth with his sleeve. "He's half in the bag already—leave him be."
"Oh come on, now. It's a party, ain't it?" I take the flask back and wave it under the nose of the half-conscious guard. The harsh odour wakes him with a start and he snatches it from my hand, drinking greedily.
"Busy night?" I ask, by way of distracting the men from noticing that I haven't taken a sip for myself. I don't know how long it will take for the mushroom to take effect and I am acutely aware that the gate guard upstairs could awake at any moment.
"What? No. Yes, I mean. What...uh." Bozo one is blinking in confusion, staring into the dram of whisky in his glass. "What was that drink again?"
"Moonshine," I reply. "Good, ain't it?"
"S'rong." He shakes his head. "Strong."
Bozo two suddenly pitches forward, crumpling into a heap over the table and beginning to snore mightily.
The larger man regards his companion, his eyes beginning to lose focus. "What's wrong with 'im?"
Wordlessly, I stand and whack his head with the hilt of my sword, watching with satisfaction as he keels over next to his partner.
The time for stealth is over. I dash to the cells and unlock the door, throwing it open. Marc is already waiting for me, eyes bright, ready to go.
"Everyone out, now. Stand to the side, I need to clear this cell." I pull down my scarf and usher everyone through the door. "You and you," I point at two strong-looking men, "put those two into the cell." I indicate the guards slouched over the table. "Marc, get someone to help you carry down the guard from upstairs. I'm going to get the clothes. Here." I toss the keys to a gangly youth. "Unlock the women's cell. I'll be right back. Under no circumstances is anyone to leave, understand?"
A few people nod and I turn to run back down the passage, Marc and another man following close to my heels.
We take the stairs two at a time and arrive back in the entryway. Marc and the other man grab the leaden gate guard and begin to drag him down the stairs while I move briskly to the exit, peering outside.
The way remains dark and empty. Seeing no one about, I scurry to the alley behind the gaol and open the ale barrel. I retrieve the stashed clothes and bundle them into a sack, checking once more that no one is watching before I rush back inside, pulling the heavy load behind me.
I close the front door and heave the sack back toward the unlocked gate, making slow progress until a couple of people run up to help me. The commoners are mercifully quiet when we arrive back in general population; Marc clearly did an excellent job briefing them on the plan. Someone has already pumped water into a barrel and the men and women are taking turns splashing their hands and faces to remove the grime.
I thank the people who helped me with the sack of clothes and tug it open; pulling out the tunics and dresses, I distribute them to the crowd.
"Marc, are all of the guards put away?" I call out over the grasping hands.
He materializes next to me. "They're in the cell and the door is locked."
"Perfect. I can take six of you up now—who's ready to go?"
I shed my guard's uniform, leaving it in a pile on the floor. My lightweight pink dress feels hopelessly inadequate after the heavy armour. Instantly missing the comforting weight of a sword at my waist, I register a twinge of doubt as I look around at the scattered commoners struggling into their wrinkled formalwear.
"We're ready." A soft, raspy voice speaks near my elbow and I turn to see two women, one wearing a loose, violet toga and the other a pale yellow shift. Both garments fit awkwardly on the women's malnourished frames and there are still traces of grime around their hairlines.
I pull a washcloth out of the water bucket and hurriedly wipe their faces, doling out pieces of leather thong so they can pull their hair back. The leftover dirt and greasy hair can't be helped but I'm banking on no one looking too closely.
Another woman and three men join my first group and I give them all a cursory inspection, ever mindful of the passage of time and the waiting carriage. Now that everything's said and done and I can take a step back to admire my work, I have to admit that my brilliant crew looks astoundingly like a gang of commoners escaping from prison. Albeit, a gang of commoners in very fine clothing.
"All right, everyone, listen up." I do my best to speak clearly and calmly, eliminating any traces of misgiving from my voice. "I'm going to escort you out six at a time. The rest of you, wait here and clean yourselves up as best you can. Once we're outside, the rules are to stick together, look happy and speak to no one. Any questions?"
I look around at the men and women. A few eyes blink fearfully, but for the most part I am met with grim determination.
"You're all going to be fine—there's nothing to worry about." I force a smile, anxious to get moving. "Let's go home." I turn to the first group. "You're up."
Together, we hurry down the hallway and up the stairs. I put a finger to my lips and leave the group to wait in the guards' room while I crack open the front door and sweep my gaze over the darkened path. Seeing no one, I beckon the commoners through the exit one at a time and walk briskly to the courtyard, checking once or twice over my shoulder to make sure no one is lagging behind. Just before we enter the yard I pull one of the men and one of the women up beside me.
I speak nonsense to my companions as I direct them along the fringes of the crowd, continually darting my eyes between my company and the route in front of us, taking great care not to engage any of the Palace guests.
We reach the inner hallway without incident. It's more crowded indoors but I keep my charges to the far wall and aim for the foyer near the Palace's front entrance. We have just about reached it when I hear a commotion behind me.
"Hey, watch it!" An older lady has spilled her drink and is clutching at the hem of her layered blue dress, staring daggers at one of the common women.
I rush back a few steps and insert myself between them.
"That's it, Jani, you're cut off." I grip the common woman's elbow and steer her away, shooting an apologetic look over my shoulder.
The older lady huffs and turns back to her companions, complaining loudly but seemingly uninterested in stirring up any trouble.
I can feel the woman trembling as I pull her away and I give her arm a reassuring squeeze. We finally reach the foyer and cross to the very front of the Palace.
There are a couple of bored-looking guards standing on either side of the front door. I offer up a silent prayer to the gods that neither will recognize the prisoners as we hurry by them. The first carriage is already waiting, the green flag flapping prominently from the open door. As the carriage driver climbs down, I usher the prisoners one by one into the seats, loudly wishing them safe travels, all the while half-expecting one of the guards to shout after us.
The driver helps me load the last of my charges into the carriage and doffs his cap at me. He moves to climb back into his seat and a hand appears through the back window, grasping my wrist tightly.
"Thank you," the woman says, her eyes moist. "I will never forget what you have done for us."
I nod wordlessly, stepping back as the carriage starts and rumbles down the driveway. I wait until they have been waved through the main gate before I release my breath, allowing myself the briefest of moments to compose my nerves before I square my shoulders and turn to walk briskly back through the party.
The two subsequent trips between the gaol and the carriages are blessedly uneventful. I lead the third group of commoners through the party and usher them into the open door of the second-to-last carriage, making a mental note to seek out the brilliant carriage-master so I can tip him handsomely. After pushing the door closed, I pause to make sure my charges pass safely through the gate before I head back to the gaol to retrieve the last of the prisoners, rubbing my aching neck in an effort to relieve some of the tension.
Marc and the remaining five commoners are waiting for me when I get back, clean-faced and dressed in the rumpled formalwear.
"One of them woke up." Marc nods toward the men's cell.
I lean past him, noting the sound of an angry guard rustling around inside, raving and spewing curses.
"It doesn't matter. We're almost done." I keep my voice low, disguising my gender as best I can against the conscious guard as I motion for the group to follow me.
Once outside, I pull the heavy gaol door shut for the last time. We cross quickly to the courtyard, hugging the wall as we join the party, Marc and the rest of the commoners sticking close. With the staircase in sight and the ballroom just past it, I am aiming my charges toward the front entrance when a gold-clad arm suddenly darts out of the crowd and comes to rest on the wall in front of my nose.
I leap back, narrowly avoiding crashing into Marc. I ignore the instinct to glance over my shoulder and force myself to remain stock still, waiting as Grayson steps out of the throng and positions himself directly in my path.
"Well, well, well. Where have you been?" Grayson isn't much taller than me but still manages to peer downward as he sips his drink.
I notice that he is slightly unsteady on his feet and I fight to keep my eyes on his face, willing him to keep looking at me and not the scruffy group at my back.
"Drinking, dancing, the usual," I say, casually. We are mere steps from the front hall and freedom, but with each passing moment the chances of someone noticing the escaping prisoners increases.
"I can't say I've seen much drinking nor dancing from you tonight." Grayson tilts his head and sneers, revealing the pointed ends of his teeth. "It seems to me that you've been spending the majority of your time running back and forth."
My heart hammers heavily in my chest. Grayson isn't overly large, but in this crowded space he blocks my path. I could dodge him easily if I were alone but getting past him with my company intact will be next to impossible.
"Tell me about it." I sigh, twirling the end of my braid flirtatiously. "I've had some business to attend to for the Princess. A lady's duty never ends!" I attempt a laugh but my throat has gone bone dry. "I'm actually in the middle of a chore right now, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back to finish this conversation."
I angle myself to manoeuvre past him but he sidesteps and claps his clammy hand down on my shoulder, shoving me back against the wall. From the corner of my eye, I see Marc move toward us; he stops in his tracks when I give the barest shake of my head.
"I'm a powerful man, you know," Grayson slurs into my ear.
I feel the sour notes of his breath on my neck and suppress a shudder.
My every fibre rings with warning and the urge for flight. I clench my fists at my side, furiously trying to think of a way out. My addled mind refuses to clear as Grayson's hand slips around my waist and panic begins to work its way up my throat.
"Forgive my interruption, Lynal." A familiar voice sounds from over Grayson's shoulder and I nearly collapse from relief, my eyes seeking Will's.
"Don't concern yourself with this, doctor. The lady and I are having a conversation." Grayson's clawed hand digs into my side and I wince.
"It looks to be a little more than a conversation to me." A dangerous shadow crosses Will's face. "I strongly suggest that you give her some space and fetch yourself another drink." I notice how he looms over Grayson's aristocratic frame and feel the lord's grip on me loosen.
"I don't see how it's any of your business," Grayson grumbles, still uncomfortably close to my ear. "I saw her first."
"You have forgotten your manners, my lord. Excuse yourself, now, and you can preserve some small measure of gentlemanlike behaviour." Will appears calm but I can hear the thinly veiled note of loathing in his voice.
After what seems like an eternity, Grayson finally releases me, stepping back and purposefully taking a long, defiant gulp from his wine glass before he slams the empty cup down on a table and shrinks back into the crowd.
I straighten my spine to quell my shaking and push myself away from the wall, shooting Marc a small reassuring smile before I turn back to Will.
"Cousin, if you could assist me, it is of the utmost importance that I escort my guests to their carriage." I stare hard at Will, keeping my tone deliberate and measured.
Will looks behind me at the commoners. Something indistinguishable flickers across his dark eyes and my heart skips a beat, waiting. After a moment he gives a tight nod and leads us toward the front entrance, his frame carving an easy path.
I tug Marc along, following Will through the front hallway. My gaze continually flicks from side to side and I hurry to scamper ahead, guiding the group toward the main entrance and past the door guards. Like a merciful beacon sent by the gods themselves, I find the last carriage sitting patiently in the drive. I covertly pass the driver a handful of stolen coins, whispering my thanks before I hurry to escort Marc and the others to their seats.
Will shoves the carriage door shut and I step up to hold Marc's hand through the window. "You were wonderful," I tell him, sincerely.
"Thank you." His voice is hoarse. "I hope I get the chance to return the favour, someday." It's the most I've heard him speak in the relatively short period of time I've known him.
I nod, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Stay safe."
His hand is jerked from mine as the carriage rolls forward. I stand back, resigned as I watch them rumble down the drive.
When the carriage disappears through the gate, I sag, feeling the last bit of tension finally lift from my shoulders. Will's grip on my elbow offers a strange kind of strength and I find myself leaning against him.
"Come on." His voice is soft in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Let's go for a run."