She stared down at the dagger, then up at Destin. “You’re saying I should kill him?” Clearly she thought it must be some kind of a trick or trap.
“If you have to.”
“I can’t take this,” she protested, running her fingers over the fancywork. “It looks like some kind of heirloom.”
“Oh, it is,” Destin said, closing her hands around the hilt. “I think it will find a good home with you.”
Harper looked around for witnesses, then slid the blade into her bodice, settling it between her breasts so that the hilt was hidden. Then gazed up at him, her head tilted, eyes narrowed.
“What is it?” he said.
“I appreciate your looking out for me, Lieutenant. What I don’t understand is why.”
Destin looked over her shoulder, to where his father was hugging the other wall. “When I was a little older than you, I failed to protect someone close to me, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I should have acted sooner and with more . . . precision.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
He half-smiled. “I’m a lot better at killing, these days.”
The song came to a close and he bowed to her. “It’s getting close to ten o’clock,” he said. “Keep your mask on, Lady Matelon.” He walked away, toward the punch bowl, feeling the pressure of her gaze on his back.
By twos and threes the others followed, some lost in conversation and seeming to wander closer by accident, others apparently there to quench a sudden thirst. Several young children raced to that end of the room, their mothers chasing after.
Granger returned to his quarry as soon as Destin left her side. But then the elder Lady Matelon intervened, giving him a sound scolding and sending him on his way with a thunderous look on his face.
If tonight’s operation isn’t successful, I suppose I’ll have to kill him, Destin thought.
Maybe even if it is.
Hal flinched when the clock in the temple tower finally struck ten. The sound was still reverberating through the ballroom when the entire building shuddered. It sounded like an explosion coming from the direction of the temple. Then another, from the barracks. Then a blast from the direction of the armory. Moments later, another thunderous explosion, which must have been the munitions going up.
All hell will break loose, Lieutenant Karn had said. Another promise kept.
The party guests screamed and milled about, covering their ears, unsure which way to run. General Karn bolted from the hall, probably heading for the garrison house.
The King’s Guard and soldiers came to life, herding the king and his down-realm guests through a doorway and out of the ballroom, toward the central bailey, the most robust fortification in the palace. All except . . .
“Mother!” King Jarat cried, turning back and scanning the room. “Where’s Queen Marina? Where’s Princess Madeleine?”
“Your Majesty, please come quickly,” one of the blackbirds said, hustling Jarat toward the door. “No doubt the queen and your sister are already in the bailey.”
Jarat hesitated, still searching the ballroom with his eyes, until a brace of guards half-carried him through the doorway.
Hal was so distracted by all of this that he nearly drew his sword when Destin Karn gripped his arm. “Go!” Karn said. “Get them out now! I can’t be seen with you.”
Hal and Robert herded the bewildered families back behind the fountain, through the draperies, and into the hidden pantry. When all were through, they crowded elbow to nose in the serving area. Robert stationed himself just inside the exit door to hand out cloaks. Hal pulled on his own cloak and slipped out into the courtyard to see if the area was clear.
It was still raining, and harder now, which was a good excuse for them all to be wearing cloaks, plus likely to discourage gawkers from being out in the streets. Did Karn arrange for that, too? Hal wondered. Now he could see that the temple was on fire, the armory was burning, and smoke was billowing up from the barracks. Civilians were running past him, away from the armory, while blackbirds and soldiers were running toward it. This meant that nobody was looking in on the ballroom or noticing people emerging from the servants’ entrance.
Hal poked his head back into the pantry. “It’s clear,” he said. “Send them out, and when I have half of them, I’ll take them to Newgate. You bring the other half. Pretend you’re running to safety.”
Hal waited by the door, and as the families poured through, like a cloud of black wraiths in their cloaks, he instructed them to take their masks off and hide them underneath. One of them didn’t bother to remove her mask, but flung her arms around Hal and buried her face in his shoulder.
Harper.
“Everyone said you were dead,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears.
Hal patted her back, his own cheeks suspiciously wet, but maybe that was just the rain. “Not yet,” he said.
When he’d counted twenty-five, he called in to Robert, “I have twenty-five, including Mother and Harper, which means you should have twenty-two, including babies and children. Count them carefully, and when you have everyone, follow me to Newgate.”
Hal set out for Karn’s private prison with his charges. He found that it was more like a cat-herding expedition than a forced march. The children broke away and stomped through puddles. They threw their heads back, catching raindrops on their tongues. Mothers and older sisters chased them down, edging them back onto the proper path. As he watched, Harper scooped up a four-year, parking him on her hip and walking him back to the others.
They haven’t been outside for three months, Hal thought, his anger rising. Harper’s been looking out for these little ones all this time.
When
