65. Harper
65
Commotion outside woke her, but this sounded different. Harried. Panicked. In the end that evening, she had fallen asleep slumped in a chair in the drawing room nearest to the entrance to Dimitri’s suites. Waiting for him, because she could not bear to know nothing for a moment longer than necessary about what was happening—and about the danger they were in.
The sounds were outside, in the main hallways of the palace. Harper’s ears pricked and she tensed, holding her breath as she strained to hear more. Their voices were muffled, echoing down the passage. The noise grew louder, closer. Most of it was in Pelenori, and her inability to translate only worsened the prickling dread clawing up her spine.
Now they were outside the door. She scrambled to it, pressing her face to the floor and trying with all her might to see under it, but the gap was too thin. The light flickered, winking in and out as bodies blocked the faint light. The tramp of booted feet shook the floor, rattling her head.
Harper jumped to her feet, clutching the dagger at her belt. Could they get in? Dimitrius had promised the door was secure—impenetrable—but she wasn’t about to place all her faith in his promises. The door looked like a door, and the noise on the other side of it sounded like more than enough to batter it down. They were coming for her. This was it. The inescapable thought gripped her, hard, and it did not let go. She gasped for breath.
But no one battered on the door. They continued on and the rabble faded into the distance, muffled once more. And her chest unclenched, the panic dissipating with their passage. What was all that? she wondered, rising from the floor and retreating back to the chair, to curl up in its plush depths. All too soon, there was nothing but silence and darkness again, but it took a long while until Harper drifted off to sleep once more.
Something woke Harper with a start. She listened, frowning. Scratching?
There was incessant scratching on the wood of the suite’s front door, as irritating as a fly buzzing around her head. She shuffled, gritting her teeth.
There it was again.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
What is that? Harper forced her frozen body into action. Holding her breath, she crept closer to the door, trying not to make even the slightest sound.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Mice? Rats? Maybe she did not want to find out what it was after all, but curiosity pulled her nonetheless. It was more interesting than sitting in the cold and the dark with all her senses blinded.
“Hello?” she whispered. “Is someone there?”
The scratching paused, then started again.
“Hello?” she said a little louder, in the smallest voice she could—in case it was something dark and terrible. Did she need to call for one of Dimitri’s servants? Fear clutched her chest, and her breath would not come. She was there alone, unarmed, without magic, against whatever was on the other side of that door—and she had just given away her presence to it so obviously. Her supple imagination fed her all sorts of detailed and terrifying possibilities. The scratching stopped again. Harper wanted to vomit. She clamped down on the churning in her stomach, and the impending light-headedness.
“Hello?” said a quiet voice from the other side of the door.
“Who’s there?” she asked, a flood of relief threatening to overwhelm her. A person? The voice sounded strange through the door. Man, woman, or something else, she could not tell. The voice was far too quiet, as if they were also being cautious.
“Harper?” the voice whispered.
Wait, I know that voice. She tugged on the handle—locked. Scrambling to undo the bolts, Harper’s fingers fumbled. She opened the door. Harper angled her head so she could see the face in the almost-dark.
“Aedon!” She threw herself at him as he rushed for her. Their bodies collided. He gripped her in a great hug that she returned, relief flooding her body.
“Oh, thank Pelenor I found you,” he said, his voice muffled in the crook of her neck.
Harper struggled out of his grasp and stepped back. “It’s really you? I’m not dreaming? How did you get here? How did you find me? And why? I didn’t think I’d see you again.” The questions rolled through her mind and off her tongue.
Aedon held up a hand. “We don’t have much time, but suffice it to say,” he said, drawing himself up tall and sweeping into an elaborate bow, “I am Aedon, the legendary Thief of Pelenor, and I have come to steal you.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I thought you might like a change of scenery.”
Harper did not know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes, please’. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” When he turned toward the door, she grabbed his cuff.
“Wait. Why? How?”
Aedon didn’t turn back, but some of the swagger dropped from his posture. “We realised we couldn’t leave you to fend for yourself—not when we knew what you were walking into. It was too dangerous, and you were blinded to it. I hoped I wouldn’t be so late, but the others took a little more persuading. By the time I arrived, the entire city was abuzz with rumours of the Dragonheart thief’s capture and impending trial. I suppose I’m here to make sure you won’t be attending. Unless you wish to?” He turned and cocked his head.
Aedon had no idea what had transpired between Dimitrius, the king, and her since her capture, it seemed. Events had unfurled so swiftly even she reeled from it. Something she could not name stirred in her stomach. Aedon was here to rescue her. But she was already safe—wasn’t she? Dimitrius had promised her that and despite everything that had happened between them, she realised that in those quarters, and especially with him, she did feel safe. Harper swallowed. Safety was an illusion here.
“No thanks,” she said, her voice hollow. She had the opportunity to leave. That was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? She was a prisoner here—to the king, to Dimitrius, did it even matter? Her freedom was the goal. And now she had a chance to take it. So why did it feel empty and a tinge bittersweet to face the open door before her?
“Didn’t think so. So what else was there for me to do but come and get you myself?” Aedon asked, his usual grin and twinkling, mischievous eyes appearing once again, oblivious to her discomfort. “This place wasn’t a match for me.”
Harper hugged him again as gratitude and relief bubbled over that someone cared so much for her to put themself in danger on her account. He squeezed her back and laughed, lacing his fingers through hers and tugging her with him.
“Come on.”
Harper followed Aedon, overwhelmed by a strange stirring rekindled by his presence that she recognized. Somehow, it felt like she was going home. Yes, she decided. It was definitely right to leave. She owed Dimitrius nothing. He had his own agenda, and she didn’t want to find out where that left her when he had no further use for her.