“Still not afraid?” he asks.
“Nope.” I swallow hard.
“You think she could have prepared us for this?” he asks.
“No, because we wouldn’t have come.”
“I’m not so sure that would stop you,” Soren says.
“Fair point.” I wink and wonder if it has the same effect on him as his wink had on me.
Chapter 12
Soren
As light as a spider on a web, Kiki grabs the bottle of cider from my bag and vaults back over the wall. She wedges it under her arm as I scramble after her, lugging myself up.
“Where’d you learn that?” I ask.
“Started tumbling class when I was two, karate when I was six, and training for the Police Force when I was twelve—junior academy after school,” she answers, brushing off her hands.
Two guards are only a few paces away with their backs to us. Their laughter slurs in the patches of light and dark.
She brazenly casts a, “Psst,” into the night.
Neither of the guards wears their helmets and when they spin around, violet splotches color the space beneath their eyes, indicating working in the king’s service doesn’t offer them much rest. The tall guard on the right tilts leeward, while the short one catches him by the leather hem on his plain jacket, keeping him from falling over the edge. They’re off duty.
“Don’t go the way of Mason, head over tosspot and down into the water,” says Short Guard. His voice reveals a long night of drinking, but not long enough for them to ignore Kiki and me standing where we shouldn’t be.
Tall Guard laughs overly loud.
“What’s this?” Short Guard, obviously the less drunk of the two, stifles a startle and reflexively taps his waist, but his blade isn’t there.
“Intruders?” Tall Guard laughs again and coils comically as though he’s going to lunge at us.
I stiffen and my fists clench.
“Shhh,” Kiki shushes with her finger pressed to her lips. “I’m not an intruder. I came with a message.”
“Ooh, a message?” asks Short Guard, his expression balances on the edge of amusement and menace.
“Glad tidings or ill?” Tall Guard staggers forward.
“A secret. For a friend, um, Tinkerbell. She just goes by Tink. She fancies—” Kiki glances at me. “Henry…and she’s hoping he’ll meet her at the bonfire tonight.”
“Henry?” Short Guard chortles.
“Henry?” the tall one echoes.
“Not possible.” Then as if just realizing that I’m standing there, Short Guard snaps his attention to me. “Who’s this?”
“I brought her cousin, Peter Pan,” she stutters and steps backward slightly.
A sweet and sour stench wafts from the pair of guards along with the sharp tang of sweat.
“We only wanted to let Henry know that she likes him,” Kiki says.
“Maybe we were wrong about him,” the short guard offers with a shrug. “‘Ole Henry has himself a girl. Wonders never cease.”
“They’ve been meeting,” I say in a conspiratorial tone. “But it’s a secret.” She holds a slender finger to her lips.
I raise both of my eyebrows suggestively, not having any idea who Henry is or how Kiki came across him.
“Why should we believe you and not throw you off the wall or bring you to the king?”
Kiki steps forward again and puts her hand on her hip. “Why else would we be up here?”
“Sneaky reasons,” says Short Guard.
“Foolish reasons,” adds Tall Guard.
The short guard shakes his head. “They’d be idiots to come to Bearsden if not for this stupid love story. Fine, we’ll tell Henry, but—” He belches. “What’s in it for us?”
They look at each other in agreement and one takes a swig from a brown ceramic bottle, holding it just above his open mouth as the last drops land on his tongue.
I take the bottle from Kiki, drink a long sip, and reluctantly part with it. “For your service to Fjallhold,” I say with false enthusiasm. “And for keeping this little love rendezvous to yourself.”
“I’m surprised a big guy like you isn’t among our ranks,” says Short Guard, barely reaching my chest.
“I’m inked,” I say, gazing at my shoes. I keep my thoughts as clear as the night sky. I don’t think about the danger we’re in or that my shame at being inked is somewhat false. I’d rather not have the king’s marks upon my skin, but to the guards, it’s the lowest sign of weakness and my faux humility should pacify them. Little do they know I was once among them.
Teasing and laughter ensue as the pair passes the bottle between them, still barring our progress. I engage with their stories of Henry’s idiocy and close scrapes around town. Meanwhile, Kiki slips away as quiet as a mouse, and I continue to distract them. I learn the tall guard is Heath and the short one is Moss. As the minutes pass, they become very dowsy.
“Come on, give it your best shot,” says Heath, patting his chest. “Do it. You’re up for it.”
“Am not,” I say with the beginning of a modest slur myself.
“Alright, then I’ll pop you and see what you come back with,” Heath answers, raising his fists.
“It’s forbidden to strike a guard,” I counter.
“Kick me then, come on, as hard as you can.” He demonstrates, thrusting the air with his tall, polished boots.
I’d take great pleasure in kicking a guard for the many times they’ve kicked me. “Not tonight,” I answer, stalling and hoping Kiki found the tapestry and is on her way back.
“Then let’s see who can win a tussle,” he suggests, flexing his muscles and wearing an earnest smile.
Moss says, “The man is honorable. He’s learned his lesson getting inked. He’s not going to wrestle you, Heath. Remember what happened when you took on that behemoth down in
