The sight of him caused her heart to kick against her ribs. She was happy he was here, within reach, even though they’d gone off course, and that he appeared unharmed.
But this meant the regent was surely involved in the attempt on Julian’s life. And it also complicated what they were trying to do here exponentially. How would they ever extricate him from a contingent of the regent’s private guard?
“He’s here,” Wren gasped as she stumbled into the alleyway.
“Who?” Julian said, emerging from the shadows. It had grown darker in their time apart, the narrow gap between buildings sitting in early twilight.
“The prince. They brought him here, which means—”
“This was the plan all along,” he said, stunned. “To betray me.”
Wren privately agreed, but the look on his face made her want to ease the blow. “Maybe, maybe not. The only way we’ll know for sure is if we somehow get eyes or ears on the exchange that’s about to go down.”
He nodded, staring off into space for a moment. He looked lost, but as she watched, he visibly pulled himself together. He was toying with the bracelet his sister had given him, and it seemed to help ground him. Bring him back to himself.
“Did you manage to get any information?”
“I did. The regent has the ‘fancy suite’ on the second floor but demands the rest of the rooms remain empty. He doesn’t want his business to be overheard.”
“He can definitely be overcautious, bordering on paranoid,” Julian admitted. “We need to get into one of those empty rooms.”
“Agreed,” Wren said. “But I’m not sure how. The street is too busy to climb through a window, and we can’t very well walk in the front door. Even the servant entrance would be too risky.”
“We could wait until nightfall…，” Julian mused, peering up at the sky. But they had an hour at least until they could count on the cover of darkness, and who knew what important information they’d miss in that time? As it was, the kidnapping party had already passed their alleyway and were now starting to dismount and deal with their horses. The meeting with the regent could happen in mere minutes.
“It must be quieter around back?” Julian asked.
“Well, yes, but that’s where the stables are, which means servants, and some of the regent’s guards are there as well.”
“For now,” Julian said. “Come on, I have an idea.”
* * *
They took the long way around, coming up on the stables from behind. While Wren kept a lookout, Julian slipped into the hayloft and got to work with their flint and striker. The idea of starting a fire made Wren extremely nervous, but he insisted there were too many people—and too much water nearby—for the flames to rage out of hand. What they really wanted anyway was smoke, so he used some damp kindling and ensured the conflagration burned near a window.
He’d only just rejoined her on the sloping roof of the storage shed when the scent reached her, and before long, plumes of smoke followed.
One of the regent’s guards was the first to notice—actually the flag bearer, with no one to distract him now that Wren had disappeared. The stableboys shouted, the guards abandoned their hangers-on, and soon everyone in the courtyard was either staring, moving to protect the animals, or hauling buckets of water.
Now was their best shot.
Releasing his whip, Julian threw it across the space between the shed and the inn, wrapping it around a drainage pipe, the blade segments locking together securely. He tugged twice before wedging his end behind a lantern sconce. Then he did something he’d yet to do: He called the blade segments to the base of the handle. The result was a taut cable between them and their target, which was actually slightly lower than they were, meaning they could take hold of the segments, let gravity do the work, and zip across.
“Here,” Julian said, handing Wren a spare pair of gloves from his jacket pocket. They were soft and well worn—and far too big—but they would help to protect her hands as she slid along the cable.
Julian went first, slowing himself by holding tighter to the iron to control his pace and avoid making any noise. Once he got to the other side, he withdrew a paper-thin dagger, sliding it under the frame and hooking the latch, unlocking the window.
Wren remained crouched on the rooftop, her attention split between Julian climbing quietly into the darkness of the room and the commotion below, which was—as promised—quickly coming to an end. Night was falling, but not fast enough. If she didn’t get into that room in a hurry, she’d be caught.
After ditching his bag, Julian reappeared in the open window, gesturing for her to make the leap. She did, throwing herself onto the rope with as much force as she could. She sailed through the air at an alarming speed, and as the window and Julian quickly approached, she realized she had no means to slow herself down.
He seemed to realize the same thing, his eyes bugging out a second before he stepped back. The smart thing would have been to step aside entirely, but that would mean Wren hurtling through the window and landing on the ground. No doubt the regent or his men stationed next door would hear the commotion, and their plan to eavesdrop would be over before it had even begun.
So instead, he braced himself and held his arms wide. She collided with him, hitting his chest hard enough to elicit a muffled grunt. He staggered backward, but rather than release Wren to alleviate the weight—and momentum—he held her tight against his chest, refusing to let her hit the ground.
His determination impressed her, as did the tight bands of his arms pressed against her back. She reminded herself that he clutched her this way to avoid making a sound, not for any other reason.
Still, it was nice to be held by him.
They remained like that, gasping, until he regained his balance. At last he drew back, their faces inches apart. His gaze flicked down to her mouth, and Wren’s heart stopped.
“You okay?” he said, dragging his attention away from her lips.
She nodded, and he released his grip, allowing her body to slide slowly, gently, down to the floor. Afterward, her cheeks felt hotter than the sun, but luckily, the second he deposited her onto the floor, he rushed to the open window. With a quick tug, he released the whip from its mooring on the storage shed and drew it back into a sword, sheathing it. Then he shut the window, blocking out some of the sounds from below.
Now that her heart had stopped racing and the noise from the courtyard was cut off, Wren could hear movement and murmuring through the wall to her right.
Together they edged closer, pressing their ears against the paneling, but then Wren spotted a closet and wrenched it open, ducking inside the tight space, which was only made tighter when Julian joined her.
The voices grew louder, and when Wren pressed her ear against the back wall, she could hear the words through the cracks in the warped pieces of wood that made up the rather flimsy barrier between the rooms. No wonder the regent insisted on emptying the entire floor.
Getting an idea, Wren reached back to close the closet door, shutting them in total darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she saw narrow beams of golden light spilling through the gaps. Several of them might even be large enough to see through.
She glanced at Julian, and they bent their heads, squinting into the room beyond.