“Put it on. Pull up the hood. Cover your face,” he whispered.
It was much too long for me. Anyone with a good eye would know it wasn’t mine, but I did as he asked. “I won’t let you get in trouble. If I’m recognized, run.”
“As if the guards wouldn’t recognize me?” He tucked my hair and assessed my appearance. “It’ll do.”
“I need to see the draignoch.”
“You mentioned that. And so, I’m taking you.” Griffin’s fingers slipped through mine, sending an unexpected jolt through me. I told myself it was the thrill of the adventure rather than his hand itself causing my heart to skip a beat. I hated Sir Griffin, didn’t I?
“Keep your head down and don’t let go,” he added.
With my eyes on the ground, all I saw were stone floors and steps until we reached fresh air. The moon shone, drawing a line through the courtyard and out the gates.
“Where you going, Sir Griffin?” a guard called in a haughty voice.
“Wherever this lass leads, sir. She is most insistent that I follow her.”
Ah, so this was my way out. I was to be one of the women pining for a kiss from the big, brave champion. I thought of the women I’d seen in the Great Hall. Giggling fools who wielded shy glimpses like pitchforks. I laughed, but it came out more of a chortle. Griffin crushed two of my fingers together. His way of telling me to quiet, but it hurt. I fought the urge to kick him.
“Is that the redhead?” one of them called.
“Good night,” Griffin yelled back, tossing them coins. They slid the bar, unlocking the gate, and pulled it ajar enough for us to get out.
As soon as the metal clanked behind us, I breathed a heavy sigh. Being champion had its privileges, it seemed.
We walked swiftly through empty streets with little light, other than the moon. I took stock, bathing in its cool glow, and in the freedom from Raleigh and his goons.
The feeling of victory didn’t last. The draignoch’s whimper traveled through the night to brush my ear, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
It was several long minutes before I realized Griffin’s hand was still tightly clasped on mine.
“Oh, sorry.” He let go. His narrowed gaze shifted from dwelling to alley and back again.
He kept his injured hand tucked against his chest, his other hand on the pommel of his sword, the way Raleigh always did. I didn’t get the feeling he was afraid of imminent attack but rather that he walked through life every day prepared for it. In that, I thought, we were alike.
The view was spectacular. The skies clear. Stars brilliant. The city lay out before us, in a descending display of tightly connected rooftops and thinning roads, but it all ended at the wall. Nothing beyond was visible. It was too high. A visual testament that freedom in the Walled City had its limits.
Griffin kept a quick pace. It was difficult to keep up with him without jogging. His legs were twice as long as mine. We passed several bigger estates, careened around a bend, then continued along another path, all the while heading downhill.
Around the next corner, I smelled horses. Padding down stone steps built into the hillside, we came to a paddock. A boy held on to the leads of two saddled horses.
“Nicely done.” Griffin waved his hand with the map on it at him, smiling.
“Impressed you could follow it,” the boy whispered, smirking.
Griffin mounted.
The boy offered a leg up to me, and I took it.
He looked up at Griffin. “Leave the saddles on the wooden horses. That’s where I found them.”
“Good man, Bradyn. Now go home quickly. Don’t let anyone see you,” Griffin told him. “After what happened today with Halig and Capp, I couldn’t live with getting you in trouble with the guards.”
“You’re the boy who was on the dais? Is that right?” I asked.
Bradyn nodded solemnly.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Bradyn.”
He smiled half-heartedly. “Nice of you to say, my lady.”
Griffin waited until the boy was out of sight to start moving.
“How long will it take to get there?” I asked.
“We will have to move slowly, so as not to raise suspicion. Could be as long as an hour. Maybe more. The Oughtnoch’s entrance is all the way in the Bottom.”
That sounded far. “Can’t we walk through the arena somehow?”
“No. Arena’s locked and heavily guarded. The gate to the chute that leads to the creature’s pound is bolted from within.” He brought his horse closer to mine. “We should ride side by side. And if we happen upon the guard patrols, smile. Act like you belong. And it wouldn’t hurt if you could try and pretend as if you like me.” He swallowed that last sentence.
I grinned and batted my eyes. “Like this?”
He laughed. “Maybe not quite that hard.” He kicked his horse.
I followed suit, getting mine moving. “It shouldn’t be too hard to pretend. I do like you. I think.”
He laughed again.
I suppose it was a funny thing to say. “But I guess it depends which is the real you. The person who sent that boy, Bradyn, out of the arena to keep him from watching his cousins torn to shreds, the one I sparred with on the practice field today, or the bastard from last night?”
“I’m sorry. I was extreme. But if it makes you feel better, your stellar performance cost me a Phantombronze dagger.”
My jaw dropped. “Phantombronze?”
“A gift from the king. I bet the prince that Xavier’s magic wasn’t real. All the sorcerers that he’s brought to the castle to perform have been pathetic tricksters. Obvious in their lack of any real magic. Not that I believe what Xavier did was magic either, but when I couldn’t explain the illusory cheetah, I was forced to relinquish the knife.” He grinned at me. “Want to tell me how he did that so I can get it back from Jori? I am doing you a very big favor right now.”
The horses’ hooves clomped along the stone pavers, ticking off how long it was taking for me to answer him. His hopeful gaze fell by degrees into a disappointed frown.
He was doing something very dangerous for me. Defying the guards by sneaking me out, taking me to a place neither of us was supposed to go. If the king found out, it would be very, very bad for Griffin. The least I owed him was the truth. “You won’t like my answer. I’m afraid the dagger will remain with the prince. It was magic, Griffin.”
“There is no such thing.” He kicked his horse to a trot. The hooves’ clatter was so loud, speaking over it would require shouting. But what was there to say? I didn’t care if Griffin believed in magic or not.
The Top was quiet. Peaceful. Crisp night air mixed with smoke from smoldering fires. After roads of spacious homes, a steep crag led to the Middle, where a fair few stumbled out of taverns, singing off-key, staggering for home. Griffin finally slowed as we passed a row of shops that included a blacksmith. He paused, his gaze passing through the shop as if he were looking for someone or something.
“Is someone there?” I asked, worrying.
“No. I’m betting they’re all in the tavern this time of night,” he said.
“Perhaps you should avoid making bets in the future.”
He laughed. I liked making him laugh.