Chapter 19
Mila
Mila’s heart pounded as the train screeched to a halt. The cargo hold’s metal walls vibrated, sending a shiver through her bones. She pressed against the crates, watching Brivul peer through a gap in the door.
“Clear?” The whisper escaped her lips.
“Wait for the guards to pass.”
Crystal chimes echoed from somewhere beyond their hiding spot. The outer district—she’d only glimpsed it before when running errands for Kurg. Marble columns and gold-trimmed archways, nothing like the grimy underworld they’d left behind.
Brivul slid the door open with ease. “Now.”
They darted between shadows cast by ornate buildings. The sweet scent of night-blooming flowers filled the air, so different from the acrid smoke of the lower districts. Mila’s replacement clothes marked her as an outsider here, where even the servants wore silk.
“Behind the fountain.” Brivul guided her toward an elaborate water feature.
Water tinkled over carved stone nymphs. Mila crouched behind the fountain and scanned the nearby street. A group of Jorvlen nobles glided past, their robes adorned with precious stones.
“We need better clothes.” Her fingers found the rough hem of her shirt. “We stand out too much.”
“Agreed. We also need shelter for the night.”
The cobblestone streets wound between towering mansions. Gardens dripped with exotic flowers, their perfume almost overwhelming after years of musty slave quarters.
A patrol of guards rounded the corner. Mila pressed against Brivul, holding her breath as boots clicked against stone. Her skin tingled where it met his scales.
“This way.” He pulled her into an alcove lined with potted plants.
The guards passed, their weapons glinting in the lamplight. Mila’s heart refused to slow.
“The boarding houses should be near the market district,” she whispered, forcing herself to focus. “Merchants stay there when they come to trade.”
“Lead on.” His violet eyes crinkled at the corners. “You know more about this place than I do.”
They wove through the streets, keeping to the shadows. Everything here screamed wealth—even the street lamps were worked in precious metals. It made her skin crawl, knowing how many slaves had suffered to build this luxury.
A gleaming storefront caught Mila’s eye. Through polished windows, silk robes in jewel tones beckoned. Perfect.
“In here.” She tugged Brivul toward the entrance. “Quick, before someone sees us.”
The shop’s interior smelled of sandalwood and fresh fabric. Racks of finery stretched into shadowed corners. A bored-looking clerk barely glanced up from her datapad.
“May I help you?”
“Just browsing.” Mila affected the dismissive tone she’d heard countless nobles use.
She selected a deep purple gown with gold embroidery while Brivul found formal robes in midnight blue. The fabric whispered against her skin as she changed in the fitting room, so different from her rough slave clothes.
“You look…” Brivul’s eyes widened when she emerged.
“Like I belong here?” She smoothed the silk, wondering if he could hear her thundering pulse.
“Beautiful.”
Mila’s cheeks flushed. She busied herself adjusting the golden sash at her waist.
The clerk processed their payment without question. Outside, the evening air had cooled. Mila’s new shoes clicked against cobblestones as they made their way toward the boarding houses.
The Gilded Rose Inn rose before them, its windows warm with lamplight. Inside, dark wood panels lined the walls and plush carpets muffled their footsteps.
“One room.” Brivul placed more credits on the counter. “Two beds.”
The innkeeper handed over an ornate key without comment. Their fine clothes had worked. No one looked twice at them.
Their room was small but clean, with views over the market square below. Mila sank onto one of the beds, finally letting her shoulders relax.
“We did it.” She couldn’t quite believe they’d made it this far. Tomorrow they’d seek out Talis.
“Get some rest.” Brivul settled onto the other bed. “You’re safe here.”
Safe. The word felt foreign on her tongue. But as she lay in the darkness listening to Brivul’s steady breathing, she allowed herself to believe it might be true.
Dawn’s pale light filtered through gauzy curtains as Mila smoothed her new silk gown. The purple fabric felt so soft against her skin. She traced the golden embroidery at her sleeve, remembering all the times she’d watched nobles wear such finery while she scrubbed the floors.
“Ready?” Brivul asked, adjusting his midnight blue robes.
“As I’ll ever be.” She pulled Ellri’s map from her sleeve, the paper worn soft from constant handling. “Talis’s estate should be past the merchant quarter.”
They slipped into streets already bustling with early morning activity. Servants hurried past with baskets of fresh bread and flowers. The scent hung heavily in the air.
“Left here.” Mila guided them down a boulevard lined with towering white columns. Each step brought them closer to Talis’s estate, and her heart raced in her chest.
The morning sun climbed higher, glinting off gilded domes and crystal windows. They passed through the merchant quarter where silk banners snapped in the breeze. Finally, the estate’s high walls rose before them, crowned with delicate spires.
“There.” Mila pressed against a shadowed alcove, Brivul close beside her. The evidence against Kurg felt heavy where it was hidden in her bodice. “That’s Talis’s estate.”
Armed guards patrolled the perimeter. Somewhere inside was their only chance at justice—and Priscilla’s freedom.
“Second thoughts?” Brivul’s eyes searched her face.
“No.” Mila squared her shoulders, though her hands trembled. “This is our best chance to take down Kurg and free my sister.”
“Then let’s do this right the first time.” His tail curled protectively around her.
Mila nodded, drawing strength from his presence. The weight of what they were about to attempt pressed down on her, but there was no turning back. Not when they’d come so far.
Mila slipped from shadow to shadow along the estate’s perimeter, her silk skirt whispering against the cobblestones. Years of avoiding notice as a slave had taught her how to move unseen.
Two guards patrolled the main gate, their weapons glinting in the morning sun. She counted their steps, noting the precise thirty-second gap between passes.
The eastern wall caught her attention. Thick vines crawled up the stone, providing potential handholds. A service entrance sat partially hidden behind a cluster of fragrant jasmine bushes.
The service entrance saw steady traffic—servants coming and going with baskets and parcels. Each was checked, but the guards seemed bored with the task.
She completed her circuit and returned to where Brivul waited in the shadowed alcove.
“The east wall has the weakest security.” She smoothed her skirt. “There’s a service entrance where servants deliver supplies. Guards check papers, but they’re sloppy about it.”
“How many guards?”
“Two at each entrance, rotating every hour. But the ones at the service door are distracted. They barely glance at the servants’ papers.”
“Patrol timing?”
“Thirty seconds between passes at the main gate. Forty-five at the service entrance.” She touched the evidence hidden in her bodice. “The vines on the east wall could work too, if we need another way in.”
“Good work.” His eyes gleamed with approval. “Anything else?”
“The servants wear purple sashes. We’ll need those to blend in once we’re inside.” She glanced back at the estate.
Mila traced their planned route in the air, her finger following invisible paths. “If we time the guard rotation right, we can slip through the service entrance during shift change. The new guards always take an extra few minutes getting settled.”
“And the purple sashes?” Brivul kept his voice low, his scales gleaming in the shadows of their hiding spot.
“There’s a laundry line in the garden. Two sashes hanging right there.” She pointed to where fresh linens danced in the breeze. The memory of hanging similar items during her years as a slave made her stomach clench.
“Once we’re inside?”
“The servants use the back corridors. I’ve seen them through the windows. If we keep our heads down and walk with purpose, no one will question us.” Her heart raced at the thought. How many times had she used that same technique to avoid Kurg’s attention?
Brivul nodded, his eyes scanning the perimeter. “And Talis’s office?”
“Second floor, east wing. The windows have gold trim.” She’d spotted the ornate room during her surveillance.
“If we’re caught—”
“We won’t be.” Mila touched his arm. “I spent years learning how to be invisible. Trust me.”
“I do.” The simple words made her chest tighten.
She outlined the final details of their plan. They’d wait for the next guard rotation, grab the sashes during the changeover, and then slip in with a group of returning servants. Simple. Direct. And terrifying.