had been very simple; Carroll was to take Niya down, through the Keep tunnels and underneath the moat. Niya’s knowledge of the city was extensive, but she did not know the tunnels well enough, and she certainly could not go alone, not with the baby in one arm. Once free of the Creche, she would depart the city and ride. Niya was a good rider, and they had chosen her a sturdy horse, now hidden downstairs, at the entrance to the tunnels. All of the supplies were in the saddlebags, including the map Niya was to follow; none of them had looked at it yet, in case one of them was taken before the fact. With Christian and Carroll on guard outside Kelsea’s door, no one would know the baby was gone until the morning. Christian and Carroll might pay for their supposed negligence—perhaps even with their lives—but by morning it wouldn’t matter, because Niya and the baby would be clear of the city, well on their way. Even to Christian’s pessimistic mind, the plan had seemed workable, but now it had fallen to pieces before even begun.
“We could wait—” he began, but Carroll was already shaking his head, and with a sinking feeling, Christian knew he was right. They had chosen this night specifically because of the rebel approach; Elyssa had put Thorne in charge of dealing with the rebels, and it was the one time that he and his witch were guaranteed to be elsewhere. Christian didn’t know what difference distance might make with a creature like Brenna, but even he had found himself comforted by the knowledge that she would not be in the Queen’s Wing when they tried to smuggle the girl out. If they waited, giving Thorne and his witch the chance to get involved, then it seemed a good bet that they would all end up dead . . . or worse, like Elyssa. The Guard did their best not to discuss it, but Christian had seen the look in Galen’s eyes—in Dyer’s, in Kibb’s, in Coryn’s—when the Princess came into the room. All of them were hanging on as best they could, but they also seemed to share an unspoken understanding, a bitter acceptance of how precious little there was to hold on to. Elyssa was only a shell, and the Queen slept on and on. For men who had spent their lives steeped in the honorable traditions of the Guard, it was a miserable state of affairs.
Carroll had knelt on the bed again, helping Niya to wrap the baby in furs. It was late March, but the Almont was still frozen; warm clothing would be required, and Niya had already explained to Christian that a baby must be kept warmer still. Niya tucked the Heir’s Jewel carefully inside the furs before binding the final layer.
“Lazarus,” Carroll repeated. “You know the tunnels better than anyone, and you won’t be missed until morning. You have to take Niya and go.”
Christian cursed quietly. If anyone had ever told him that he would develop a hard core of obedience to a topside boy who couldn’t even shave properly, he would have laughed. But the obedience was there. He didn’t want to let Carroll down, and even more, he shuddered at the thought of Niya alone in the tunnels. When they had conceived the plan, she had protested that she could handle herself, that there was no need for an escort, she had lived in the Gut all her life . . . but Christian had argued her down. The Creche might run only twenty or thirty feet below the Gut’s surface, but the distance was infinite. Niya would not make it through alone.
“I’m going,” Carroll said, straightening from the bed. “I’ll try to take as many of them as I can with me. Give it a few minutes, and you should have a straight shot to the Queen’s chamber.”
Niya nodded, lifting the fur-wrapped bundle from the bed. The baby had begun to make vaguely fussy noises, but as soon as Niya tucked her against one shoulder, she quieted.
“What of the second guard?” Christian asked suddenly. “The one meant to be on the chamber when you’re gone?”
“I forgot to find a replacement. Surely the terrifying Mace doesn’t need a backup.”
Christian smiled unwillingly, surprised as ever by the strange mixture of innocence and deception that lurked behind Carroll’s baby face. Christian had been in the Keep for only eight months, but he sometimes felt that his tenure as