Page 112 of Her Cruel Redemption

We were yanking open the door to a miracle of a clear hallway beyond, even though it echoed with voices and footsteps that seemed to come from every direction at once, soldiers shouting to one another. We didn’t pause. Draven picked a direction that seemed to have no reason to it, his grip on my hand tight as he tugged me after him, our footsteps falling as quietly as we could manage on the stone, as quickly as he could manage with the faltering gate his injuries had settled him with. Down a long hallway lined with alcoves housing guttering sconces, then a fork in the path. Movement to the left, flickering and shadowy. Two soldiers headed towards us. Fear jolted through me, stilling my heart. But they were walking, not running, talking to each other in murmurs. Not looking at us. We hooked right, slipping quickly through another hall, away from them.

A staircase through an opening. I tugged on the hand in mine, halting pace. A wordless conversation spoken in glances. He changed course, and we took the stairs up two at a time, Draven leading, one hand braced against the narrow, curling walls, the other still clutching mine. We reached a landing and he halted, pressing me against the wall as he held still. Noise, raised voices. We held our breaths. The pound of footsteps, someone running, tearing through the doorway to the right in a blur. Passing us by, footsteps descending the connecting staircase, curling away from us. They hadn’t seen us. It seemed like an unlikely gift from the gods. We weren’t going to waste it.

We slipped through the doorway the soldier had come from instead of following up the staircase, emerged into a wide room filled with long, narrow tables and lined with tapestries.

‘Where now?’ I hissed.

Draven quickly surveyed the room. ‘There,’ he said, pointing towards a door I hadn’t seen for the gloom. We headed for it. Opened it, only to find a storage cupboard. There were footsteps behind us, coming down the stairs. We ducked inside the cupboard—we had nowhere else to go. It was dark inside, with barely room for the two of us to stand pressed against each other, shallow breaths competing in the musty air. The voices followed us into the room, men’s voices. Having an argument.

‘—the fuck would that have been your first action! You should have reported the bitch as soon as you saw her!’

A murmured response, too quiet to hear.

‘Who do you think will give a damn about that when she’s gone and sprung him?! She’ll be lucky if all she does is burn.’

The footsteps shuffled around the room, drawing closer. Some thumping sounds, like they were flinging things on tables. My breathing was just a series of shallow gasps. I was so terrified, knowing that if they opened this door—if they needed something out of this cupboard—we were done. Even if we fought them, killed them. The scuffle would bring the rest of their number, and there’d be no escaping. The whole place seemed to be just a series of long hallways, tight staircases. How would we escape if they were choked with soldiers? Our only hope was in them not knowing where we were. As soon as they pinpointed our location… There were footsteps just on the other side of the door now. I stared at the handle, waiting for it to turn, clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my panicked breathing.

Arms wrapped around me. Draven drew me against him, stroking my hair, my back. I closed my eyes, turned my face into his chest.

‘It’s alright,’ he whispered, barely audible even to me, even with his lips brushing the shell of my ear. And then the footsteps were drawing away. The angry voice was yelling again, but further away now, leaving the room. We waited in the echoing silence that followed, and I hardly dared believe we hadn’t been found. Yet. We still had to get out.

Draven turned the handle slowly, inched the door open. The room beyond was empty.

‘The staircase?’ I asked softly.

He blew out a breath. Nodded. ‘We’d better move quick.’ As though we hadn’t already been running for our lives up until that point.

We made for that staircase that seemed to keep producing soldiers, and my ears strained for the sound of footsteps to announce we were about to be caught as we snuck up another flight of stairs, the light of the torches on the walls casting long shadows that kept tricking me to fright. When we reached the top, there were slitted windows looking out into the night on the opposite wall, and short distance away… a door. Leading outside, if the windows were anything to go by. And three guards stationed before it, their halberds glinting in the torchlight. They looked on high alert, fists gripping weapons tightly, eyes actively scanning their surroundings. They were expecting us.

I scanned the ground on the landing, picking out a scattering of loose stones. Bending low, I scooped a few up, held them out to Draven. His gaze flickered from the stones to the guards, then down the hall, quickly reading my meaning. He picked the largest stone, leaned around the wall and hurled it as far as he could. We crept back down a few steps, crouching low in the shadows as it hit a wall, clattered to the ground.

‘What was that?’ The voice of one of the guards. There was a strained silence as we all seemed to wait for movement—us for theirs, them for ours.

After a pause, they began debating whether they should go and investigate in low voices, finally deciding two would venture further down the corridor while leaving one behind to guard the door. The pair passed the stairwell without looking our way, and slowly Draven rose, pulling me to my feet behind him.

‘How do we get the other one?’ I mouthed, barely giving breath to the words lest they be heard.

‘Fast,’ was Draven’s reply.

‘Helpful,’ I said, released from the tension enough to roll my eyes. His mouth twitched with a smile. Footsteps punctured the brief levity and we both glanced behind us, holding still as hunted rabbits. The footsteps were below, maybe a floor, maybe two, but they were headed our way. We were out of time to make plans. We peered around the corner at the remaining guard, and with another stroke of luck he was looking the other way, staring at the shadowy far end of the hall.

Draven didn’t hesitate. He moved like lightning, crossing the space between us and the door on footsteps so fleet and quiet he could hardly have been touching the ground. He clamped a hand over the guard’s mouth, yanked the dagger hanging from the scabbard on the man’s belt and drove it into his side. With a muffled groan, the man went limp. It happened so fast I barely had time to register it before I was darting forwards to catch the halberd to keep it from clattering to the ground.

Draven lowered him to the stone, hand still clamped around his mouth as blood began to bubble through his fingers. In another movement so swift it seemed like he’d done it before, he yanked the dagger out of the guard’s side and drew it across his throat. I shuddered, closing my eyes at the last moment as though I hadn’t done the same thing myself this very day. As though I’d never done worse.

‘Open the door. We’ll move him out of sight,’ Draven whispered. I jolted to my feet, fumbled with the latch. The footsteps on the stairs were getting closer, and down the hallway the guards who’d chased the stone would surely be returning, and I couldn’t get the damn door open! The latch was jammed!

But then suddenly it gave way, the door was swinging open and cold night air was rushing in. Draven hooked his arms around the fallen soldier and dragged him through the door. But we were too late. The footsteps had reached the top of the stairs. I could see the top of a head, an armoured torso, swinging hands emerging from below. My heart hammered as I tried to help Draven pull the body. We should run. We should just leave the body and run!

‘Eden, any news?’ The call came from down the hall. The other guards returning. The new arrival turned their way instead of ours. The guard’s attention was fixed for just long enough for us to get the body clear. I quietly pulled the door shut while still in a crouch, and the latch clicked home. Draven leaned the soldier against the wall by the door, then he took my hand, drew me to my feet. Pulled me into a run. Now, we didn’t have to worry about our footsteps on stone, muffled as they were by the dirt as we sprinted for a nearby alleyway. Draven flagged, stumbled, hissing as he pressed a hand to his stomach. I doubled back, wrapped an arm around his waist and took some of his weight. I was fit to burst with the fear of it, with adrenaline racing through me and that incandescent hope that we would make it,we would make it,now staring me down from so close. Just a few more steps. Five, four, three…

We made the alley. Disappeared down it, embraced by its blessed shadows, its winding walls, and beyond it another alley, then another. Quickly, we were lost in the streets of Port Howl, tangled with regular citizens now, the night dwellers who sold street food and entertainment out celebrating the end of their occupation. We avoided them where we could, given that Draven was covered in blood, now a mixture of his own and the soldier’s, but while we drew some curious glances, none lingered long enough to suggest they knew we’d just escaped Saltarre Castle’s dungeons.

Eventually, we stopped. Dravenneededto stop. His pace was flagging, and even though he didn’t say it, I could hear the way his breath was bound with pain, could read it in the rigid way he held himself. We leaned against a wall a few turns away from a small market. Music drifted to us through the night, along with the scents of roasting meat, as the people of the city celebrated their liberation. I chewed my lip as I surveyed Draven, noting the way he sagged against the wall, the way he looked back at me with something tormented and hollow in his eyes.

‘When was the last time you ate?’ I asked. ‘Drank?’

‘I don’t know.’

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