whole truth.
“My informant feared someone was getting close to discovering them as my spy. Without them, we have no way of knowing where the weapon is kept within the palace. We needed someone else inside. My spy made sure a patrol would find Dez. He was supposed to leave camp that morning, but the prince must have intercepted the message. Either way, he is where he needs to be.”
Dez was going to leave me in the morning. Would he have said good-bye? It’s a petty, terrible thing to wonder at the moment, but I can’t stop it. I hate that I don’t get to be angry with him because he is risking his life.
“How will Dez do that from the dungeons?” I ask.
“How would we break through the palace walls? We’ve done this before. Dez is our best chance. I gave my son the code to break free after his capture. The prince gave us three nights, I believe? When they go to execute him at dawn, Dez won’t be in his cell. He will find this so-called cure and destroy it. And that, my dear, is why there is no rescue mission necessary.”
Remember. Trust me. Dez had planned this all along. The anger that coiled in my gut is gone, unwinds into worry. So much could go wrong.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. “You didn’t trust me before, so why now?”
“I know the”—Illan’s face is impassive, searching for the right word— “bond you and Dez have always shared. I tell you now simply because I do not want you doing anything reckless to compromise this. No one but my son and the elders know of our plan. Dez will use the code to break out, steal away into the palace, and retrieve the weapon.”
For a moment, I allow myself to remember the cells beneath the palace of Andalucía, though my memory of them is hazy with the murk of childhood fear. I never liked it when Justice Méndez brought me down there to see the prisoners. Still, I recall that outside each was a metallic cylinder as thick as a scroll. Standard code locks have four keys that turn like gears inside a clock. Méndez had a custom-made lock of ten keys, and changed it often, just in case I was able to memorize it. But I wasn’t concerned with escaping. Not then.
“What’s the code?” I squint my eyes as if it’ll make all of this come together.
“Rest, Renata. I expect Dez back at camp by nightfall tomorrow while the executioner is still sharpening his sword. For now, we need everyone assisting in the safe passage of those leaving for Luzou.” Illan’s eyes are faraway and he absentmindedly rubs the silver head of the fox on his cane with his thumb. “And with the weapon destroyed, we buy ourselves another day to live and keep fighting.”
It’s a dangerous game Illan and Dez are playing, but if anyone can pull this off, it’s Dez. When we were twelve, he was caught by a tax farmer near the mountains. I ran to get help, but by the time we came back to him he’d already picked his way out of the locks. I recall the fervor with which he fought Prince Castian at Riomar. I know he’ll return to me. Dez can get out of anything.
“You don’t need me to give you information on the palace, then?”
Illan’s face darkens with what I recognize as a fleeting memory. Regret. “Once Dez has carried out his mission, we will need to get back inside the palace walls to rescue the prisoners in the dungeons.”
Slowly, I nod. “I’ll do what I can.”
After Illan leaves, my stomach still hurts, but when Sayida returns, she assures me the feeling is just the dregs of the poison leaving me. Yet, as I watch the sky darken from the blue of the Castinian Sea to that of a bruised plum, I’m not so sure she’s right. I can’t shake the terrible feeling that twists in my gut.
Andrés. I say his name in my mind. Then his voice: Don’t tell anyone.
Again, I face another sleepless night, my mind a flurry of thoughts fighting for dominance: Dez. Illan’s plan. The twisting dials of a cylinder lock. Four letters that click into place. Four letters that get scrambled every night by a new guard.
A strange feeling tightens in my belly.
Nerves, I tell myself.
In the darkness, I search my mind for signs of hope—in Sayida’s comfort, in the promise in