Page 163 of The Stolen Throne
“Thank you.” I draw my own words out slowly in return.
Whatever we’re about to do sounds a lot like how I used to sneak out of the hovel Omma and I lived in, and even more so the palace in Aryd. Someday I’d really like to go in and out of the place I’m staying using only the door to the street like a normal person.
Omma’s shoulders go back. “I’m not leaving Tabra.”
“Oh my goddess,” Pella mutters. Then she grabs me by the wrist and tugs me up from the table. “Meren and I can go first.”
I wave at the others. “They should go before us.”
Her grip tightens on my wrist. “Nope. I can’t watch you watch him without getting sick. Besides, I have something I want to show you.”
Another tug, and before I know it, we’re outside in the teeming streets and she takes off into the night. I only hesitate a moment. She barely acknowledges when I catch up. At a corner crossing, she pulls up sharply when a train of parading people dances by. In the same instant, she makes a frustrated sound in her throat. Then raises her voice. “You didn’t need to come, too.”
Which is when I notice Hakan standing nearby. I had no idea he’d tagged along.
She shoots me an accusing look. “I’m guessing your boyfriend sent him.”
I clear my throat. “I’m pretty sure it’s not me Hakan is worried about.”
Her shoulders stiffen, which makes me grin, which makes her chin rise.
“He seems like a good guy,” I comment casually. “Why not give him a chance?”
“You give him a chance,” she mutters.
I snort. “What kind of weak response is that?”
Her lips flatten. “Whatever.”
The street clears a bit, and we’re off through the crowds again, Hakan in close proximity, careful not to let anyone touch him even accidentally. Our silent, sort of twitchy protector.
When we get to the palace, Pella doesn’t go to the gate but skirts the wall. Around the corner and halfway down, she ducks into a small alcove in the wall itself and grabs onto a rope dangling conveniently off the top. Of course we would have a way in and out. And of course it involves ropes and sheer drops.
Without a word, she starts to climb.
Hands on my hips, I stare at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She stops, dangling a little way up, to look over her shoulder at me. “It’s the only way past the guards.” She waves one hand at the teeming streets not far away. “Stay here if you want. Hakan can be your minder.”
“How are Reven and Vos going to get Tabra inside?”
Another shrug. “They can tie the rope around her waist and haul her up. They’ll figure it out.”
She continues with her climb.
I still don’t move. If this is the way in, I’d rather wait for midnight, which I assume is when the gates open back up. I tip my head back, trying to mentally compare the height of this wall to the roof of the hovel. This is taller. You’d think after flying with Bene so much I’d be numb to this fear by now, but the bubble of panic expanding in my chest is as bad as it ever has been.
“Do you want to see what I have to show you or not?” Pella calls down.
“I won’t let you fall,” Hakan offers. He manages to say it in his usual quiet way and yet still be heard over the ruckus in the streets.
Sweet of him to tell me. It doesn’t help. “I know you won’t, but heights and I have this agreement. I don’t go near them, and they don’t kill me.”
His lips twitch, a little bit like Reven at his moodiest, when he doesn’t want to laugh but finds me funny anyway.
“What’s the plan, then?”
“You go with Pella, Hakan,” Reven says from out of nowhere, suddenly appearing behind us, though I don’t think he shadowed. “I’ll take Meren up.”
