‘Cyprian,’ said Violet.
Of course it was him, descending the stairs in his gleaming livery. He’d put her in here, always sneeringly against her. He’d come to see her behind bars, to relish her being exactly where he’d always thought she should be.
‘My father has made his decision,’ said Cyprian. That arrogant, uppity voice.
‘You coward,’ she said to Cyprian through the bars. ‘You and your father both. Why don’t you come into this cell and face me without all the bars and chains.’
He didn’t take the bait. He just stood in front of her cell, a too-handsome figure in his novitiate tunic, his eyes passing over her slowly.
‘What you said about James? No one believes it.’ A familiar sneer on his lips. ‘The Stewards won’t act on the word of a Lion. They’re readying the great hall. That’s what my father decided. They’re going to kill you.’
‘So you’ve come to gloat,’ she said with a disgusted breath.
‘No,’ said Cyprian. ‘I’ve come to get you out.’
‘—What?’ she said.
It was like putting her foot on a missing step, the ground vanishing out from under her. Violet stared at him.
Cyprian lifted his chin. She suddenly saw the way his chest was rising and falling, and that he was standing there as if pushing himself hard into discomfort.
‘Every mission to rescue Marcus has failed. The Stewards don’t know where he is, or how to get him back. Maybe you were lying when you said you had a way to find him.’ Cyprian drew in a final breath, then pulled something from his tunic. ‘But maybe you weren’t.’
It was a key. It was a key. Her eyes fixed on it, hope flaring. Behind Cyprian, Will was at the bars of his cell.
‘You’re really going to disobey the Stewards to help us?’ Will asked him. ‘Why?’
‘He’s my brother,’ said Cyprian.
The perfect novitiate. He stood there in his immaculate livery, and she thought of all his thousands of hours of practice, forming himself into a faultless candidate. He was made to drink from the Cup and become a Steward. He had never disobeyed a rule in his life.
Now here he was, in the cells under the Hall, with two descendants of the old world, siding with them against the Stewards.
‘You trust me, just like that?’
‘I don’t trust you, Lion.’ Cyprian lifted his chin again, in that arrogant way he had. ‘If you’re lying, I suppose you’ll kill me. But for even the smallest chance that you’re telling the truth, I’ll take that risk.’
‘Then open the door,’ said Violet.
He stepped forward, put the key into the lock, and turned it. He was brave; it was infuriating, like his spotless tunic and his perfect posture. He stood without flinching as the barred door opened, and just gazed back at her as she came to stand in front of him in the passageway. She was ridiculously tempted to make a loud sound, or jerk towards him, to see if she could make him jump.
She turned her back to him instead, deliberately displaying the manacles. Cyprian shook his head. ‘No. Those stay on until we get outside the Hall.’
‘Why, you little—’
‘Violet,’ said Will, bringing her up short.
‘I’m willing to risk my own life to do this. Not the lives of everyone in the Hall,’ said Cyprian. His chin lifted again.
‘The nobility of the Stewards,’ she said scathingly.
‘You said James would be unguarded at dawn,’ said Cyprian, gesturing for her to keep ahead of him.
‘That’s right.’ Violet scowled.
‘Then we don’t have much time,’ said Cyprian. Will’s cell door swung open. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
WILL WATCHED IN amazement as Cyprian’s calmly imperious words got them past the guards （‘My father has sent for the prisoners’） and out of the main building （‘My father is waiting for me’）。 He had horses ready for them, waiting in the east courtyard. No one questioned why he needed the horses. No one questioned him riding out of the gate either. Not even with two mounted companions on lead ropes behind him, wearing Steward cloaks （procured by Cyprian） to hide their manacles.
True to his word, Cyprian unlocked their manacles once they were out on the marsh. The second they were off his wrists, Will felt better. His legs felt steadier. His head felt clearer. Cyprian bundled the manacles up in a cloth knapsack, and once they were covered, even the residual feeling they gave Will disappeared.