even if it was, breaking the window would be easier than busting down the front door.
My heart was pounding just thinking about the climb, but I took a deep breath to steady myself, then reached into my cloak for the vial of elixir. It was only for emergencies, but I could use a sip to settle my resolve. I uncorked the bottle and took a swig, feeling the elixir tingle on my tongue and the back of my throat.
Liquid courage flooded through my veins, and before I could talk myself out of it, I gripped the drain and started climbing. I winced as the metal creaked against my weight. It shifted as I neared the top, but thankfully held long enough for me to grab the ledge of the roof and pull myself up. I kept my center of gravity low and crept across the tiled rooftop. Movement and a flash of red made me duck. I flattened myself behind a chimney as I realized the king had stationed guards up here as well. One wrong turn and somebody would see me and send up a warning.
I held my breath, waiting for the guard to turn around again. I crept along the edge of the roof, then lowered myself and swung forward until my toes reached the ledge of my window. I slowly reached under the overhang for purchase against the stones of the building, trying not to look down. My bedroom was in one of the towers, and while a fall probably wouldn’t kill me, the height was dizzying. The elixir kept the panic away but there was still a kind of mental dissonance, like I knew I should be more scared and it was weird that I wasn’t.
Unfortunately the window wasn’t unlocked like I’d hoped. I slowly reached into my coat for the wooden stake and used it to shatter the window pane. Then I reached in past the jagged broken glass and unclipped the latch to open the window. I lowered myself inside and closed the window quietly behind me, just in time to see another guard come into view over the rooftop. He scanned the view carefully, but didn’t seem to notice the broken pane of glass. After a moment, with his hand on the grip of his sword, he turned back towards the wedding proceedings. I listened for a minute longer, making sure the ceremony was still on track, then took a deep breath to slow my pounding heart.
My room was basically as I’d left it. My eyes lingered on the thick mattress and comfortable white sheets and quilt, but I didn’t have time for a nap. The closet was still full of my clothes – or at least the clothes Damien had procured for me after my choosing. I wrestled with whether or not to take anything, but finally decided nobody would miss a few pairs of underwear and three dark T-shirts. The stores in the rebel’s underground mall had been picked clean, so whatever was left was several sizes too big and not nearly as comfortable as these. I tucked them in my bag before continuing deeper into the house.
It was hard to believe I’d only been gone a little over a week. It felt like much longer. I finally made it to Damien’s study and pushed open the door. What I saw took my breath away. The study was a mess, with papers all over the desk and floor, half-melted candles and books in disarray. In the corner was an easel, with a portrait drawn in rough charcoal that hooked my gaze. A portrait of me. There were at least a dozen others, in pastel or watercolor, pinned up against the wall with knives and thumbtacks.
There was also a pile of empty whiskey bottles, and a strong-smelling water pipe made of tin and blue glass.
My eyes scanned the shelves to find the volume I’d seen last time, and my heart nearly stopped when I recognized the empty space in the shelf where it should have been.
It wasn’t here.
But then I saw it poking out from under a pile of books on Damien’s desk and breathed a sigh of relief.
A note fell out from the pages, sprawled in Damien’s elegant script next to a splatter of black ink.
The key to the cure.
It looked like Damien and I were searching for the same thing. But if so, why hadn’t he gone out and retrieved the chest himself? Was he afraid to oppose his father,