Page 11 of Snapped
Chapter 7 | The Plan
August could hear the bells from the small church at House Gaeland chiming in the distance. Those bells likely rang in celebration of the birth of Aiya’s child with the Outkast that had once been a member of his encampment. Oddly, the obnoxious noise put him at peace. It had been weighing heavily on his heart—the need to kill Aiyan’s twin was all-encompassing, blotting out anything else in his path. But learning she was with child made it difficult to consider. Had the opportunity to end her presented itself before today, he couldn’t rightly say he would have done so. Taking his revenge on Aiyan for murdering his twin sister by responding in kind, he had never factored in a child.
“Something wrong?” Cillian’s growl interrupted his train of thought. August shook his head, not bothering to put the gesture into words. “So the bitch had her pup; it changes nothing.” Cillian snarled.
“No, it doesn’t. Makes it easier, in fact.” August continued to stare out at the horizon, attempting to ignore the big stupid man beside him.
Cillian doubled over laughing, unable to speak until he caught his breath. “Jesus, I keep forgetting that you, my friend, are plagued by a conscience.”
August spun around, glaring at Cillian, fists clenched. “We…are…not...friends. You are but a means to an end.” He relaxed, one eyebrow raised. “Much like yourfriend, the guard.”
“Whatever.” Cillian waved him off, turning and ducking into the tent they’d set up as a base where they’d map out where each person was going and when. Each man underestimated the other, and that could be their mutual undoing. Cillian only saw August as hired muscle—the pissed off redhead with a need for vengeance he could use as a scapegoat if things went south. He could easily have August do his dirty work by fueling the fire of his anger over the death of his sister. But, if Cillian wasn’t careful, the fire would rage and spread, burn out of control, and take him out in the process.
A large table sat in the middle of the tent with several maps spread out. Robert looked up, grinning when he caught August’s gaze. “Augie, glad you could make it.” The man’s booming voice shook the flaps of the tent. He made his way around the table, clapping August on the back. Draping an arm over his shoulder, Robert led him over to the table. There was an older map of the entire area of House Gaeland, the forest, and the clearing. It covered all the land surrounding the palace grounds. Then there were newer maps: one of palace grounds and one of the clearing stretching out to the encampment.
Where the newer drawings were current with the design of the palace, the older maps showed the original design, including the bunker beneath the palace and a couple of entrances that weren’t on the crisp, clean map. Cillian snapped two of his meaty fingers to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen up. August, Robert, you two are going to follow the next convoy to arrive at the clearing up to the palace. There’s a trail on either side of the road that leads up to the palace once you cross the bridge.” Cillian pointed to two spots on the largest map on the table that were on either side of the winding road.
“My source has invited me back to his room in the guard’s quarters since he’s on duty indefinitely but just can’t seem to go more than a few days without me.” Cillian cackled. He had, indeed, wrapped the imbecile of a guard around his little finger. August sighed, shaking his head. Lord, but the man was either sex-starved, or Cillian was amazing in bed. Either way, he shouldn’t be concerned with them or their sleeping habits. No, he needed to concentrate on the fight ahead.
A young man, no more than sixteen if August were guessing correctly, cleared his throat when Cillian motioned him closer to the table and the map. “Everyone, this is Arthur; his grandmother is the Cook at the palace so he has firsthand knowledge of the layout.”
“So, there are torches lit at dusk every evening that surround the back side of the palace and weave around the perimeter of the garden. Few nights come and pass that the Prince and his husband or the Princess along with her two companions don’t visit the garden. Hell, oftentimes you can find the whole lot of them there.” Arthur snorted.
“There is a torch directly in front of the iron door leading to the Guard’s quarters in the lower level of the palace. My suggestion would be for everyone to hide out on either side of the stables until Cillian can get to the door and get it open, snuffing out the torch there to lead the way into the palace.” There was a gleam in the teenager’s eyes as he spoke—a darkness as well. August could see now why Cillian had placed such trust in one so young, the two of them seemingly kindred spirits.
Cillian continued to point things out on the maps, to bark orders at the other men inside the tent. There was mention of rebels being placed within the walls of the palace as servants and such, but August tuned him out after that. He had to remain focused on the mission. He would get penance for his sister…or die trying.
