Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,126

drafts and wish only they had not drunk so much. They will also be too embarrassed to mention it to anyone.”

“You seem to be enjoying this.” She rakes me over with one of her penetrating looks that is supposed to unnerve me, but with the agitation I see there, it is not quite as effective as she wishes.

“Pinch your cheeks. Put a swing in your hips. I’ll do the rest.” I hoist the wine jug Father Effram put aside for us and head for the guardhouse.

Inside are four guards, somewhat sleepy and very bored. They perk up when they see us, all but one, who scowls like one of the king’s hunting mastiffs. He is the one we will have to win over. Before he can say anything, I lean forward, making my eyes wide and excited. “Is it true?” I ask breathlessly. “Do you really hold”—I lower my voice—“the Beast of Waroch down there? Is he truly as savage as they say?”

The youngest of the four puffs up. “It’s true. Every word of it. And yes, he is—”

“Shut your trap, pup, and don’t go yammering to the first pretty face who pops her head in here. Afore you know it, we’ll have flocks of maids wanting to know this or that about our guest.” The older guard snickers, as if relishing the thought.

“And won’t that make General Cassel happy,” the bulldog growls.

“He’ll never find out.” I pour him some wine. “We’ll certainly never tell. But if there is such a savage beast in our midst, surely we have a right to know so we may protect ourselves.”

Sybella leans forward, intentionally allowing her décolletage near their long noses as she fills the other cups. “I hear he gnaws on the bars of his cage rather than eat the food he is brought.”

The young guard warms to the subject. “I’ve never heard or seen anything like it, m’lady. And the stench!”

“She’s no lady, you imbecile,” the bulldog growls. Fortunately his doubt of her noble blood does not prevent him from drinking the wine I have poured.

That is all the encouragement the others need before they toss back their cups. Well, that and a flash of cleavage now and then. For all that Sybella claims I am good at this, she is no slouch either.

It takes less than half an hour before all of them finally succumb. The bulldog is the last, of course, and he is not sitting, but standing so that we must catch him.

“Feels like he had rocks for his supper,” Sybella grunts as we lower him to the ground.

When he is laid out, I stand up and wipe my hands on my skirt. “Come on, then, let’s get the others.”

* * *

Crossing the inner courtyard to the dungeon is the most vulnerable part of the plan. We cannot even cling to the shadows, but must strike out into the open where anyone from any palace window might see. It is why we have chosen the darkest hour of the night, when even the most debauched have taken to their beds—if not sleep—and it is too early yet for even the most industrious of servants to be about.

It also leaves only two hours until daylight, when the main gates open and we can hide ourselves among the crowd.

“How many other prisoners are there?” Father Effram asks when we finally reach the stairs that lead down to the dungeon.

“None,” Sybella tells him. Even so, she stops at the bottom of the stairs and checks for heartbeats. When she motions that all is clear, we proceed. Or try to. The bear picks that moment to balk, rising up on his hind legs and emitting an unholy moaning sound.

“He smells blood,” Aeva says.

“That would be the corpse of the guard General Cassel killed,” I explain.

Aeva rubs the creature’s back and murmurs something near his ear, and he drops down on all fours again and begins shuffling forward.

We have not gone twenty steps when the bear stops again, this time fascinated by the shiny suit of armor. “For the love of the Dark Mother, tell the thing to hurry,” Lazare says.

“It is his last taste of freedom, and he is doing us a great service,” Aeva says. “Let him take his time.”

Finally growing bored with the armor, the bear lumbers back toward the hallway, and we begin herding him toward Beast’s cell. “You’d best go ahead and let him know what is coming,” I tell Sybella.

“There is no way to prepare him for