Bonesmith (House of the Dead, #1)(120)

Again.

Good thing he’d already shown her how to do it.

The last time they’d been at the fort together, Leo had managed to give his guards the slip by using his window. His rooms were on the second floor, the windows facing the small courtyard off the kitchens, which was busy during the day but quiet and deserted at night.

The problem was, Leo had only managed to return to his rooms with Wren’s help. The wall was ill suited to climbing, with little in the way of ledges or handholds. In short: It was an easy trip down, not an easy trip up.

But maybe she was looking at things from the wrong angle.

Leaving the courtyard, Wren decided to take a page out of Inara’s book. She found an empty room that was ideally positioned directly above Leo’s, and then, using a rope she stole from the stables, she prepared to rappel down to his window.

Again she found herself thinking of Julian’s iron whip, his sure grip and reassuring strength, but she pushed the thoughts aside. She could do this.

She’d bolted the door and fastened the rope around the heavy latch, double-and triple-checking the knot before scanning for any wandering eyes, but she had no control over the wind as she carefully descended, her body buffeted this way and that.

Still, Wren was nothing if not stubborn, and she shimmied down the wall with determination, if not grace.

When at last she reached Leo’s window, she tapped gently against the pane—not wanting to startle him or rouse any of his guards. Being a prince with some manner of his own authority, she suspected he would be alone inside his room, but she pushed herself to the side and tensed in case someone else came looking.

The latch flipped and the window slid open, revealing a golden head of tousled hair. He looked at her without so much as a raised eyebrow. “Evening,” he said, as if he’d spotted her walking down the street and not hanging, midair, outside his window.

Wren attempted to look at him—the wind was combining with the rope to twist her around backward—and when she finally managed it, he was grinning. “Well?” she said. “Are you coming?”

It appeared he was. He withdrew long enough to pull on boots and a jacket, and then he was back again.

“Hurry,” Wren muttered, beginning the long, painful climb back up. She had knotted the rope to make for an easier grip, but her legs were burning and her hands fumbling by the time she reached the top.

Leo was not far behind, and despite the sweat coating his brow and his heavy breaths, he looked delighted at being sprung from his room. “Not exactly the thrilling destination I was imagining,” he mused, running a finger along the dusty window ledge. It had evidently been a while since this room had been in use.

“Shut… up,” Wren panted, leaning against the wall.

The smile on Leo’s face faltered. “Has something happened?”

Wren blew out a breath and straightened. “Yes.”

She told him first about Odile, about her father’s role in it, and how Galen was currently locked up and set to pay the price.

“I can’t say I feel sorry for him,” Leo said, his expression hard. “Still, he’s not a murderer.”

“But my father is. He was the one who paid Galen. He sent me here on purpose, as part of a deal with the regent, only…” Wren shook her head. “That Corpse Queen. She’s my m-mother,” she faltered, swallowing thickly. “That’s why she wanted me and no one else. She’s a ghostsmith, and that must be why I could… why I’m able to…” She didn’t understand how it was possible. How she could have both bonesmith and ghostsmith powers. Was it the well’s doing too? Did it amplify her magic so forcefully that it turned latent abilities into dominant ones? And was her brother the same? Maybe he would have the answers she sought and could explain what was happening to her. Or maybe he would betray her too. “My father wants to seek her out, to try to use the power in the well himself…. We can’t let him.”

“We won’t,” Leo said at once, before the shock of it all settled on him. “Your father… your mother…” Wren stared at him, at a loss for what to say or how to explain her own reaction. “Family,” he said eventually, his tone dismissive, but his eyes were kind.

“Family,” Wren agreed, nodding, utterly relieved at his unwavering acceptance. “Speaking of, we’re not the only ones who’ve been betrayed by our families recently.”

Leo perked up. “You don’t mean…”

“I do,” Wren said, and he grinned.



* * *



While springing Leo had been relatively straightforward, if physically challenging, freeing Julian would be another matter entirely. Not only was he in a proper cell with real guards, but he currently hated both of them and might turn on them the first chance he got.

It was a risk Wren was willing to take.

Apparently, Leo was too. “After what we did to him… if he wants to barter me for his people, maybe I should let him.”

“We’ll come up with something better—together.”

While Galen was being held in the upper-floor dungeons for “important prisoners,” as Odile had put it, Julian—though more noble than Galen—was being held in the high-security dungeon on the floor below, where dangerous criminals were kept. It was fully underground: dark, dank, and oppressive.