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CHAPTER THIRTY

Fenlia

I t is almost impossible to find enough time to slip away from the palace. They have to choose their moment carefully. Cat trains dutifully with Marina, Fen does the same with Zinnitzia, and when their lessons are done, they each take a different route and try to get as close to the Alelune embassy as they can. Fen knows they might not find anything. Knows that the risk is high. But none of the embassy’s mail or shipments are monitored by Soleb. A plot between a Soleben traitor and the Queen of Alelune could take shape on Ambassador Laure’s writing desk. And if it has, Fen owes it to her brother to try to find out how.

Cat is insistent on staying out of sight. They cannot be caught, not for anything, and Fen can guess what the punishment will be if they are. She, at least, would likely be returned to the King. But Cat is an Alelunen citizen – if he is found on their grounds, there would be no need for Laure to hand him back. He would be returned to the Reaper cells and all the horrors therein.

They need to be quick, and they need to be careful. Their reconnaissance takes weeks. They write detailed observations of Laure’s guests whenever possible, and Adalei grudgingly provides updates on any court sessions where Laure speaks to King Aliamon. She does it with a shrewd eye and a curled lip, making it clear that she thinks Fen is playing a dangerous game. Still – she helps.

She helps, and though it takes another three months of feverish planning and late-night preparation, eventually Fen and Cat manage to slip away from the palace one evening when there is no moon in the sky. All they take with them is a couple of candles and a great deal of hope.

Fen waits for Cat outside the palace gates. She stays hidden in the shadows, keeping an eye on her surroundings. He appears next to her as if he steps from the shadows themselves. She hisses, tripping backwards, startled despite herself. He is not dressed in black. He wears no bell.

His brown hair is tied behind his head with a cord, and his outfit is eerily familiar. ‘Where did you get those clothes?’ she asks, eyeing the intricate weave and delicate embroidery ornamenting the front of his purple tunic.

‘Elician’s room,’ he replies. ‘They fit.’ They had been straining on Elician’s shoulders before he went to war, but they do fit Cat now. Though the tunic sits far too loose around the shoulders and waist, it’s the right length on him, and the brown trousers are tucked carefully into his boots. He could be anyone like this. And no one would know.

We’re going to be in so much trouble if we’re caught, Fen thinks.

‘Let’s go,’ she says. Then, turning, she takes a deep breath and leads the way. Together, they hurry down the spiralling streets towards the embassy. A tall stone wall with a wooden awning separates it from the other buildings on the row. A large wooden door is the only entrance that they will be able to use, and guards stand in front of it – bracketed by braziers. Both are lit exceptionally bright tonight, illuminating each adjacent structure.

Fen’s heart beats fast in her chest as she quietly slips from one shadow to the next. Cat is deathly silent behind her. She cannot even hear him breathe. When they reach the outer limits of the firelight, Fen leans against the stone siding of the luxury apartments that are always afforded to foreign dignitaries. When she had first started plotting, she had hoped maybe they could slip in through the apartments, but there would be far too many witnesses. Far too many guards and possibilities that were too uncertain or unknown.

Fen’s fingers press against the sandstone wall. It is a dark night tonight. Very dark. Spring has started, summer is on its way, but here in Himmelsheim the nights are cold. And the guards are huddled very close to those braziers. Slowly, Fen reaches out with her hand. She tries to imagine the fires growing bigger. Brighter. Too bright. Out of control.

The guard closest yelps loudly when flames burst high into the sky. He stumbles and falls back, but then the other fire is burning just as brightly. Bright enough, and hot enough, that the flames begin to reach towards the awning. The guards yell; the door opens. Two more guards step out, this time to help mitigate the fires before they catch on anything important.

Fen wills the fire to burn more, more. Even more. She pushes it to go hotter, faster, stronger. Someone needs to run to get a bucket and they return only a few moments later with water pumped from the well. The bucket is upended on the first brazier, and Fen lets her attention shift from it to the second. She lets the first fire die out in order for the second to burn even more. The guards all have their backs turned. They are all focused on the task of the great inferno that is licking and biting and chewing at the wooden awning of the embassy.

Taking a deep breath, Fen glances over her shoulder. They need to time their attempt carefully. Cat nods at her and she nods back. She focuses on the guards once more. The fire is burning brightly. She tilts her weight forward onto the balls of her feet. She takes a deep breath and—

Cat drowns the world in darkness.

They run.

The guards are shouting, stumbling, bumping into each other. They try to light a torch, but the flames refuse to spark. They try to find themselves in the shadows, but by the time they manage, Fen and Cat have already slipped past them and through the great wooden door. Cat takes Fen’s hand. They hurry through the courtyard, away from the yells of confusion and concern. The walls are lined with large fruit trees, and Cat pulls her to a stop behind one very thick trunk.

They wait.

The smell of fresh leaves wafts all around them. Leaves and smoke. The trunk of the tree they are crouching behind is not very wide, but its foliage is thick. Leaves hang down from its great boughs, and in the shadows they hide from the cautious eyes of the nervous staff members doing a quick check of the grounds.

Even so, Fen cups her hands over her mouth to keep from making any noise at all when she hears someone approach. Cat is as rigid as a statue at her side. They listen as the footsteps draw closer, then as the footsteps pass them by. They wait. They wait. They wait.

Eventually, Fen lowers her shaking hands from her lips. She breathes in deeply. She lets out a long breath of air. Slowly, she straightens. Cat hesitates only for a moment before he rises too. He points towards the left, and she follows him without question. They sneak ever closer towards the building proper and a small window just out of reach.

If Elician were here, Fen knows he could have climbed the wall himself. His clever fingers always seemed to know where to find purchase even when there was barely as much as a centimetre of possibility. Fen squints at the wall, and the distance to the window up above. It is far too high to reach.

Cat lowers himself to his knees. He motions for her to climb on, and she flushes as she carefully straddles his neck to sit on his shoulders. He braces his hands on the wall as he stands up. When she reaches this time, her fingers can just barely touch the lip of the window ledge. Cat’s hands get under her feet and push one of her legs up. It is awkward and uncomfortable. She nearly knocks them both off balance, but she gets her foot up onto one of his shoulders, then the next. And from this height she can just manage to address the window properly. She opens it, pulling back the shutters and peering into the darkness of the room beyond. Her arms burn as she hoists herself up, one small crawl at a time. Cat gives her legs another shove once she gets going.

The ledge on the interior wall, however, is barely wider than the one she has just navigated. She’s off balance and top-heavy. She falls. It isn’t far, but pain ricochets through her as she lands awkwardly, falls and bangs her head on the hard stone floor. Her shoulders and knees scrape painfully on the ground. But she is inside.

And she cannot hear any guards approaching.

She waits for a moment, feeling her body piecing itself back together. Then she stands in the darkened window and looks back down at Cat. His shoulders sag with relief as he sees her leaning out. Then he seems to be inspecting the problem of the wall himself. Fen looks around, but there is nothing she can pass down to him. She doubts most embassies keep ladders around for thieves to appropriate. That would be far too convenient. She is tempted to tell him she will meet him in a few minutes when he draws back from the wall. Seems to nod to himself as encouragement, then runs.

Fen scuttles back. She misses the sight of him making the attempt, but she hears three soft scrapes against the sandstone and then Cat’s hands are on the ledge. He scrambles, and she dives forward to catch his arms and tug him inside. She pulls him in quickly and they close the shutters behind them. They wait in the darkness of a room Fen cannot identify just yet. The world outside remains silent.

Reaching into her pocket, Fen pulls out one of her candles. She presses her fingers to the wick and lights the flame. Around them, the room glows in faint oranges and yellows. Brooms and buckets line one wall, a table and a rack with folded linens line another. Fen walks to the door and leans against it. Nothing. No one. No footsteps at all. She opens the door as quietly as she can, then peers down the hall. First left, then right.

Adalei had said that Ambassador Laure’s office is on the northern side of the embassy. That it overlooks the palace and has a view of the Temple of Life too. It takes Fen a moment to reorient herself, but she turns right and hurries as silently as she can. Fen hears her heart beating in her head, her sweat forming on her brow. Everything she does feels too loud by far. When they reach the office door in question, Fen is half certain they are only moments away from getting caught.

Fen presses her hand to the doorknob and tries to turn it. It’s locked. Cat reaches past her, nudging her trembling fingers out of the way. Then, he presses his bare hand to the door, lightly stroking the lock. This time, when he turns the knob, it opens. Dust or ash flutters from the keyhole as he pushes it wide. She doesn’t get the chance to investigate before he hurries her inside, closing the door behind them.

It is the right office. Two rows of bookcases stand parallel to the wall, and a grand desk covered in paperwork is affixed just before grand windows which peer out into the city. And in the centre of the room is a large box. Cat stands still just before it, frowning at its lid even as Fen tugs on his arm. ‘How did you do it?’ she asks.

‘It’s the same as what I did with the apple back in Kreuzfurt,’ he replies. ‘The inversion of what you do with your seeds. You bring life, make it grow. I end that life, and all dead things decay.’

‘Metal isn’t alive,’ she points out. ‘It never was to begin with.’

‘But its existence is something. All things must die. Nothing lasts for ever. Metal rusts. It disintegrates. Its components break down and are used as ingredients to help something else take shape. It is a death in its own way, and if it’s a death , then I can influence it. I just needed to learn how the bindings that kept it whole could be broken. And then . . .’ He waves his hand.

He can destroy anything. Fen shivers, biting her lip as he steps closer to the box. He reaches one hand towards it. She thinks he’s going to break it down too, collapse wood and metal into a dusty pulp just because he willed it to exist no more.

But there are footsteps in the hall. Footsteps drawing near.

Cat hisses, turns. He snatches at her wrist and tugs her behind one of the rows of shelves, killing the flame of her candle and drowning them once more in darkness. The door opens barely a second later. Fen holds her breath as she dares to peek around the edge of the bookshelf. Her heart sinks to her stomach.

Despite all their careful planning and all their attempts to ensure things went smoothly, clearly something has gone wrong. Ambassador Laure has returned early from the overnight business meeting she had been scheduled to attend. Laure stands in nearly the exact same place Cat had stood, overlooking the large box in her office. She holds a lantern in her hand, and from the rigid set of her shoulders and an angry tsk , she is not happy.