Nightblood by Blake Elly

Author:Blake, Elly [Blake, Elly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2018-08-21T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

WE REACHED THE ISLAND WELL after sunset, the sky a dark blue velvet set with a pearlescent moon.

The stone keep was perched atop a soaring promontory, its outer edges bristling with towers. On one side, the cliff curved to form a bay where ships bobbed at anchor. On the other, scrubby evergreens crowded a slice of beach.

We pointed the prow of our small boat at that narrow strip of land, Arcus and a Fireblood master working the oars against churning waves. Another Fireblood master completed our cozy crew of four, a small group for a clandestine operation. If everything went smoothly, we’d slip in unseen and pluck Marella from under the Servants’ noses.

On the island, torches moved to and fro as patrols carried out their nighttime watch. The cliffs seemed to grow taller as we drew near.

I craned my neck to look up at the towers so far above. Shadows nestled in the spaces where stonework had broken loose and fallen into the sea.

“We can do it,” Arcus whispered, his hand resting on my upper back. I leaned into his touch.

Kai’s ship, and the other three ships accompanying us, waited around a bend on the far side of the island where the cliff was highest. Unless someone looked down from directly overhead, our force would stay hidden. All the lanterns had been doused, every crew member silent.

But if I gave the signal, the ships would attack the harbor as a distraction.

After a few minutes, our rowboat scraped bottom. I slipped into the freezing shallows and grabbed the bow to help pull the vessel from the water. One of the masters inhaled as his feet sank into the frigid water, the sound blending with the lapping waves. We spent a few minutes gathering leafy branches from under the trees and dragging them back to partially cover the boat in case the night watch came this way.

We didn’t speak as we each tied a section of a long length of rope around our waists and put on leather gloves with sharp pieces of metal sewn into the palms to help us grasp the ice that Arcus would create to make handholds.

“Careful,” Arcus whispered.

“You too,” I replied.

Seva, one of the Fireblood masters, went first, as she had the most climbing experience. Finding handholds in the rock, she hauled herself up. Arcus followed.

I used the same holds to pull myself up, inch by inch. Some sections offered multiple indentations to grab on to, and sometimes it took Seva a minute or two to find the next handhold.

My fingers ached, my toes bent painfully to dig into the small ledges. A breeze stirred tendrils of hair from my tight braid.

About halfway up, Seva stopped.

“No handholds,” she said in Sudesian.

I translated to Arcus, then held my breath, my eyes fixed on his dark outline above.

The hiss of frost turned into the crackle of ice as it met rock. It clung to the cliff face, forming into a nicely shaped ledge.

We had discussed the idea of the

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