Page 63 of Kingdom of Chains

Yvaine’s shoulders fell an inch. ‘You found her. You found Ita.’

‘Yes.’

‘How is she?’

Grieving. And it was all Isabel’s fault. ‘She is… safe.’

The woman nodded slowly. ‘That is all a mother can ask for nowadays.’ She fell quiet. ‘Will you go to her again?’

‘I will try.’

Yvaine loosened the belt around Isabel’s wrists. ‘I will go in search of flowers for your hair. When I am gone, you are going to slip out under the canvas over there.’ She nodded towards the far end of the tent. ‘There are no guards at that end.’ Dropping the belt to the ground, she began unbuttoning Isabel’s dress. ‘You are going to the kitchen the long way, behind the sleeping quarters. You will see the guards along the fence line and will be tempted to turn back. Do not.’ She picked up the clean dress and began helping her into it. ‘If you stay close to the houses, they cannot see you.’

While it felt pointless changing dresses ahead of an escape, Isabel knew it was to protect Yvaine if she got caught. There would be questions.

‘When I return with the flowers, I will have to react immediately or the guards will be suspicious.’ She walked over to the tray and took the bread from it, stuffing it into the pocket of Isabel’s cloak, which was draped over the cot. Then she returned to her. ‘Count to fifty before you leave, in case the guards check in on you.’

Isabel searched her eyes. ‘We are coming for you. We are going to get all of you out, I promise.’

Yvaine hugged her briefly, then left the tent, informing the guards on her way out that she would be back in a few minutes.

Isabel stood there, her heart pounding in her throat, counting in her head as she eyed her escape route.

Fifty.

She snatched up her cloak and headed for the far end of the tent, tugging at the fabric in various spots until she found the best place to slip through the gap. She peered beneath it before doing so, certain someone would see her, but Yvaine was right. She escaped the tent unnoticed.

Tugging up the hood of her cloak, she looked around to get her bearings, then headed for the fence line as instructed. When she reached the first house, she stopped in the shadows, taking a moment to observe her surroundings. A guard strolled slowly along the fence line, staring vacantly ahead. Drawing a slow breath, Isabel pushed forwards, every muscle in her body tense. She passed the second house without an issue. When she reached the third, she pressed her back against the wall, working up the courage to cross the camp to the other side. She was just about to go when two guards stepped into view, forcing her back into the shadows. Flattening herself against the wall, she held her breath and waited for them to pass.

Now, she told herself.Go.

It took all of her self-control to walk and not run out into the open for all to see. Soon, she was back beneath the cover of trees, the kitchen area now in sight. All she could think about was how Hodge would react when he realised she was gone. Who would bear the brunt of his mood? And how far would he go to recover her this time?

Movement above drew her focus to the sky. And there was Margery, gliding silently above her, willing her forwards. It was amazing how much strength Isabel drew from her presence. She could jump a fence if she knew the eagle was waiting for her on the other side.

She was almost to the kitchen when she heard shouting in the distance. Those shouts could have been about anything or anyone, but her feet hurried forwards all the same.

The kitchen was alive with women washing bowls and scrubbing pots the size of sheep. None of these faces were familiar, so she had no reason to trust any of them, but she continued anyway, because there was no turning back at that point. Many cast curious glances her way, but no one said anything as she headed for the woodpile.

Her hands clammed up when it came into sight. What had Ita told her? That if one got a run up, they could use it as a step to reach the top.

She had also said the wood needed to be stacked correctly or it could result in spectacular failure.

There was really only one way to find out if it was stacked correctly.

‘Not yet,’ a woman whispered, appearing next to her and handing her a pile of forks and a cloth.

Isabel looked down at the items, confused.

A horse cantered by the kitchen. ‘I want every guard on alert.’

Isabel recognised Hodge’s voice and began rubbing the forks with the cloth, praying her trembling hands would not drop them and draw attention to her. The urge to run was strong with her exit barely thirty feet away, but she waited, knowing she only had one chance to get out—and she needed to get out. She could not help these people from the inside. And she could not marry Hodge.

The woman returned and took the forks and cloth from her. ‘Now.’

Isabel took off at a run, eyes on the top of the fence above the woodpile. That was her target. She leapt up onto the pile, as though she had sprouted wings, and died a small death when she felt the wood shift beneath her weight. She kept her focus, though, reaching. One hand caught the fence. The other missed, but she managed to swing herself back to try again. It worked, and she grabbed hold of it.

Never in her life would she have thought she could get over that fence from that position, but pure fear was the ultimate fuel. She walked her feet up the fence, ignoring her stinging hands as splinters pierced her soft skin. She got one elbow up, then the other. Biting back a groan, she pushed herself up until her hips sat level with the top of the fence.

---