Leaving the logistics to me. As usual.
“The same way we came in.”
“She can’t go over the wall in this dress,” the prince argues.
Fuck. He’s right. It’ll be nigh on impossible for her to climb down. While I wouldn’t mind seeing her naked, I suspect Alistair would gouge my eyes out for looking.
“We’ll make a sling. I can lower her down.”
I’m already aching and sore from yesterday’s chopping, fighting, and climbing, but I’m strong enough to dangle a slip of a girl off a cliff for the short time it’ll take to make the descent.
“How do you plan to hold off the harpies?”
“Highness, with all due respect, shut up, and let me do my job.”
He bows mockingly. “Lead on, Sir Ironheart.”
Briar
A knight. Everything makes sense, now.
Sir Killian Ironheart is a dark knight sworn to serve the prince. Or, more likely, sworn to serve the king and assigned to serve as the prince’s protector. That explains their uneasyfriendship—and it is, unmistakably, a friendship, if an unequal one.
Sandwiched between the knight, who leads us down a dark and lengthy passageway, and the prince at my back, I edge down each step like a young child learning how to descend safely. My stupid skirt doesn’t help matters, obscuring the light no matter how much I gather into my fists and hold out of the way.
Each time I stumble into Killian’s back, he grunts and stops. Alistair instantly pounces to pull me upright, pressing me against the wall to steal kisses I don’t dare refuse.
But it’s the man in black armor whose broad shoulders I watch with interest.
He doesn’t like me. I’m not accustomed to people instantly disliking me. My face is enough to win general favor. But not his.
Clearly, his favor must be earned.
Is it worth earning? Considering his surliness, I would say not. Yet my life has already depended upon his quick actions once, and I don’t doubt it will again before the day is done.
The knight raises one gloved fist. I halt instantly.
“We’re here.”
“We’ve wasted half the morning retracing this route.” The prince squeezes past me. “Let’s not dally.”
He yanks the door open. Pandemonium erupts. Ear-piercing shrieks stun me into inaction. At the same time, light sears my eyes, blinding me to what’s happening.
“Get back!” Killian shouts. He shoves Alistair, who trips on the edge of one stair and crashes on top of me. My stupid silk dress slips on the stone, his weight dragging us down toward the fearsome beaks shoving through the open door.
“Close it!” Alistair kicks one with his boot.
“Can’t.” Killian remains upright, a short sword flashing and brandishing that strange shield that looks like an enormous scale against an onslaught of pecks and shrieks. The birds havemanaged to wedge their heads inside, but their bodies can’t all fit through at once.
I never realized that birds have tongues. Not until one clamps onto the hem of my dress.
8
Briar
Afrightened shriek bursts past my lips as the beast drags me closer to its fellows. I’ll be embarrassed about my reaction later—if I survive this.
I reach for something, anything to stop the slow slide to my death, hands scrabbling on stone, seeking blindly. I brush cloth and clutch it with all my strength.
