An Ember in the Ashes
Page 73
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I tell him everything I know about the Trials and the Emperor’s arrival.
I don’t reveal how I got the information, and Mazen doesn’t ask. When I’m done, even Keenan looks stunned.
“The Martials will name the new Emperor in less than two weeks,” I say.
“That’s why I told Keenan we had to meet tonight. It wasn’t easy to get out of Blackcliff, you know. I only risked it because I knew I had to get you this information. It’s not everything you wanted, but surely it’s enough to convince you that I’ll complete the mission. You can get Darin out now”—Mazen’s brows furrow, and I rush on—“and I’ll stay at Blackcliff as long as you need me to.”
One of the lieutenants, a stocky, fair-haired man who I think is called Eran, whispers something in Mazen’s ear. Irritation flashes briefly across the older man’s eyes.
“The death cells aren’t like the main prison block, girl,” he says. “They’re near impenetrable. I expected to have a few weeks to break your brother out, which is why I even agreed to do it. These things take time. Supplies and uniforms need procuring, guards need bribing. Less than two weeks...that’s nothing.”
“It’s possible,” Keenan speaks up from behind me. “Tariq and I were discussing it—”
“If I want your opinion, or Tariq’s,” Mazen says, “I’ll ask for it.”
Keenan’s lips go thin, and I expect him to retort. But he just nods, and Mazen goes on.
“It’s not enough time,” he muses. “We’d need to take the whole damn prison. That’s not something you can do unless...” He strokes his chin, deep in thought, before nodding. “I have a new mission for you: Find me a way into Blackcliff, a way no one else knows of. Do that and I’ll be able to get your brother out.”
“I have a way!” Relief floods me. “A hidden trail—it’s how I came here.”
“No.” Mazen punctures my elation as quickly as it had ballooned. “We need something...different.”
“More maneuverable,” Eran says. “By a large group of men.”
“The catacombs run under Blackcliff,” Keenan says to Mazen. “Some of those tunnels must lead to the school.”
“Perhaps.” Mazen clears his throat. “We’ve searched down there before and found nothing of use. But you, Laia, will have an advantage, since you’ll be looking from within Blackcliff itself.” He rests his fists on the table and leans toward me. “We need something soon. A week, at most. I’ll send Keenan to give you a specific date. Don’t miss that meeting.”
“I’ll find you an entrance,” I say. Izzi will know of something. One of the tunnels beneath Blackcliff must be unguarded. This, finally, is a task I know I can accomplish. “But how will an entrance into Blackcliff help you break Darin out of the death cells?”
“A fair question,” Keenan says softly. He meets Mazen’s gaze, and I’m surprised at the open hostility in the older man’s face.
“I have a plan. That’s all that any of you need to know.” Mazen nods at Keenan, who touches my arm and makes for the door of the tent, indicating I should follow.
For the first time since the raid, I feel light, as if just maybe I’ll be able to accomplish what I set out to do. Outside the tent, the fire-thrower is mid-show, and I spot Izzi in the crowd, clapping as the flame lights the night. I am almost giddy with hope until I see Keenan watching the dancers whirl, his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Will you, uh...” He runs a hand through his hair, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so agitated. “Will you honor me with a dance?”
I’m not sure what I am expecting him to say, but it isn’t that. I manage a nod, and then he’s leading me to one of the dance stages. Across the stage, the tall Tribal boy from earlier is dancing with a dainty Tribeswoman who has a smile like lightning.
The fiddlers begin a swift, tempestuous tune, and Keenan takes my hip in one hand and my fingers in the other. At his touch, my skin comes alive as if warmed by the sun.
He’s a little stiff, but he knows the steps well enough. “You’re not bad at this,” I say to him. Nan taught me all the old dances. I wonder who taught Keenan.
“That shocks you?”
I shrug. “You don’t strike me as the dancing type.”
“I’m not. Usually.” His dark gaze roams over me, as if he’s trying to puzzle something out. “I thought you’d be dead within a week, you know. You surprised me.” He finds my eyes. “I’m not used to being surprised.”
The warmth of his body envelops me like a cocoon. I feel suddenly, deliciously breathless. But then he breaks eye contact, his fine features cold. The prickle of rejection tingles unpleasantly across my skin even as we continue to dance.
He’s your handler, Laia. That’s all. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought I’d be dead within a week too.” I smile, and he gives me a quirk of his mouth in return. He holds happiness at bay, I realize. He doesn’t trust it.
“Do you still think I’m going to fail?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He glances down at me and then quickly away. “But I didn’t want to risk the men. Or—or you.” He mutters these words, and I lift my eyebrows in disbelief.
I don’t reveal how I got the information, and Mazen doesn’t ask. When I’m done, even Keenan looks stunned.
“The Martials will name the new Emperor in less than two weeks,” I say.
“That’s why I told Keenan we had to meet tonight. It wasn’t easy to get out of Blackcliff, you know. I only risked it because I knew I had to get you this information. It’s not everything you wanted, but surely it’s enough to convince you that I’ll complete the mission. You can get Darin out now”—Mazen’s brows furrow, and I rush on—“and I’ll stay at Blackcliff as long as you need me to.”
One of the lieutenants, a stocky, fair-haired man who I think is called Eran, whispers something in Mazen’s ear. Irritation flashes briefly across the older man’s eyes.
“The death cells aren’t like the main prison block, girl,” he says. “They’re near impenetrable. I expected to have a few weeks to break your brother out, which is why I even agreed to do it. These things take time. Supplies and uniforms need procuring, guards need bribing. Less than two weeks...that’s nothing.”
“It’s possible,” Keenan speaks up from behind me. “Tariq and I were discussing it—”
“If I want your opinion, or Tariq’s,” Mazen says, “I’ll ask for it.”
Keenan’s lips go thin, and I expect him to retort. But he just nods, and Mazen goes on.
“It’s not enough time,” he muses. “We’d need to take the whole damn prison. That’s not something you can do unless...” He strokes his chin, deep in thought, before nodding. “I have a new mission for you: Find me a way into Blackcliff, a way no one else knows of. Do that and I’ll be able to get your brother out.”
“I have a way!” Relief floods me. “A hidden trail—it’s how I came here.”
“No.” Mazen punctures my elation as quickly as it had ballooned. “We need something...different.”
“More maneuverable,” Eran says. “By a large group of men.”
“The catacombs run under Blackcliff,” Keenan says to Mazen. “Some of those tunnels must lead to the school.”
“Perhaps.” Mazen clears his throat. “We’ve searched down there before and found nothing of use. But you, Laia, will have an advantage, since you’ll be looking from within Blackcliff itself.” He rests his fists on the table and leans toward me. “We need something soon. A week, at most. I’ll send Keenan to give you a specific date. Don’t miss that meeting.”
“I’ll find you an entrance,” I say. Izzi will know of something. One of the tunnels beneath Blackcliff must be unguarded. This, finally, is a task I know I can accomplish. “But how will an entrance into Blackcliff help you break Darin out of the death cells?”
“A fair question,” Keenan says softly. He meets Mazen’s gaze, and I’m surprised at the open hostility in the older man’s face.
“I have a plan. That’s all that any of you need to know.” Mazen nods at Keenan, who touches my arm and makes for the door of the tent, indicating I should follow.
For the first time since the raid, I feel light, as if just maybe I’ll be able to accomplish what I set out to do. Outside the tent, the fire-thrower is mid-show, and I spot Izzi in the crowd, clapping as the flame lights the night. I am almost giddy with hope until I see Keenan watching the dancers whirl, his brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Will you, uh...” He runs a hand through his hair, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so agitated. “Will you honor me with a dance?”
I’m not sure what I am expecting him to say, but it isn’t that. I manage a nod, and then he’s leading me to one of the dance stages. Across the stage, the tall Tribal boy from earlier is dancing with a dainty Tribeswoman who has a smile like lightning.
The fiddlers begin a swift, tempestuous tune, and Keenan takes my hip in one hand and my fingers in the other. At his touch, my skin comes alive as if warmed by the sun.
He’s a little stiff, but he knows the steps well enough. “You’re not bad at this,” I say to him. Nan taught me all the old dances. I wonder who taught Keenan.
“That shocks you?”
I shrug. “You don’t strike me as the dancing type.”
“I’m not. Usually.” His dark gaze roams over me, as if he’s trying to puzzle something out. “I thought you’d be dead within a week, you know. You surprised me.” He finds my eyes. “I’m not used to being surprised.”
The warmth of his body envelops me like a cocoon. I feel suddenly, deliciously breathless. But then he breaks eye contact, his fine features cold. The prickle of rejection tingles unpleasantly across my skin even as we continue to dance.
He’s your handler, Laia. That’s all. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought I’d be dead within a week too.” I smile, and he gives me a quirk of his mouth in return. He holds happiness at bay, I realize. He doesn’t trust it.
“Do you still think I’m going to fail?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He glances down at me and then quickly away. “But I didn’t want to risk the men. Or—or you.” He mutters these words, and I lift my eyebrows in disbelief.
