Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel) by Erin Summerill

Author:Erin Summerill [Summerill, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2017-12-04T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter

25

Aodren

I ALMOST MAKE IT ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE bridge when the link to Britta changes in a way I didn’t know was possible. It bows and bucks. My palms turn clammy.

For a moment I wonder if that’s my own internal reaction to having killed a man. The sight of the guard on the ground, eyes open and glossed, will be in my head forever. He would’ve killed Britta.

Each step from the castle causes my heart to pound, a war drum resounding in my chest. Leaving Miss Flannery is wrong. I don’t know why or how I know, but I cannot shake the feeling that I need to turn back. Now.

Gods, this night is one bad decision after another.

I dismount and give my horse a hard smack on the rump. She takes off for the woods, the moonlight catching on the gold and silver royal equine adornments. If anyone is looking for tracks, perhaps they’ll find hers and think I’ve escaped.

Keeping an eye on the gate, I run the length of the bridge, back toward the castle. Men have gathered in the outer yard. They weren’t there before, and there’s no telling if I can trust them. Staying out of eyeshot, I sneak around the side of the guard tower and over the wall. I hold myself with my fingers and boots wedged in the lip of the stone bricks.

“They caught the girl.”

The guards talk and I pause, body clinging to the wall.

The man laughs. “And ta think she was fixin’ on bein’ called a lady.”

No. Britta has been captured.

“I’ll make ’er my lady.”

“You gonna do that in the dungeon?”

My knuckles whiten against the stone, the only thing preventing me from plummeting a quarter league to my death. Jamis has never been a merciful man. The thought of what he might do to Britta has me moving along the external wall, slowly, ensuring each foot placement and handhold is secure.

Each arm span takes me closer to Britta as I make my way toward the waste chute. Years have passed since I snuck out of the castle this way. I never imagined I’d use the waste hole to sneak back in. The smell wafts to me on a breeze. I try not to heave.

Commotion echoes from the castle. Every now and then someone yells. The slow going gives me too much room to think. The knowledge that I’ve let my people down weakens me to my core.

But I will fix this.

Whoever’s taken my castle will pay.

Jaw clenched, breath held, I hoist myself into the tight square opening that leads into the castle. The waste hole has been used frequently lately, no doubt in preparation for the Winter Feast. Crawling through the grime and sliminess has to be the worst kind of torture. Surely, every chamber pot in the castle must’ve been emptied today.

Pausing in the chute beside the servants’ stairwell, I listen for others. Hearing nothing, I push myself out of the hole and land on the stones of the narrow staircase.

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