Chapter 66 Zarrah #2
Zarrah had known that going in. Had known that she was risking her life, and Keris’s life, on a chance.
But Lara and Aren had done the same for her.
They’d gone to Devil’s Island to rescue her, and then sailed south to war against Petra, risking their lives and those of their people.
They were her friends. Her family. Her allies. How could she not do the same for them?
Her eyes latched onto a familiar name. Silverhorn & Co.
It was one mentioned to Zarrah by the banker, and next to it was a note in his spidery handwriting.
Charitable donation to the Silverhorn Foundation for families impacted by wasting disease.
The shipping records for the vessel that had brought the infected cattle showed that it had been chartered by Silver Exports, Ltd.
“You bitch,” she hissed. “You’re not going to get away with this!”
Fists pounded on the door. “Open up, or we will force our way in!”
Keris skimmed the page, then shook his head. “They won’t let you walk away with this page, Zarrah. Our word will have to be good enough when we get back to Valcotta, because we can’t be caught with this.”
Every part of her wished that her word was good enough, but in her mind’s eye, she could see the faces of her nobility eyeing her with suspicion, every one of them believing her actions motivated entirely by sentiment for Lara and Aren.
Every one of them blaming Keris and whispering that she was starting another war because of him.
As much as she wished otherwise, Zarrah needed the cold hard proof of these documents.
Which meant she needed to get them out of this room to somewhere safe.
Her eyes went to the window, and all the color drained from Keris’s face. “No. Absolutely not.”
Zarrah’s heart hammered, memory of her aunt falling falling falling filling her mind’s eye. But there was no other way. “You risked your life coming here because it was the right thing to do,” she said to him. “You cannot refuse me the right to do the same.”
He grabbed her wrists. “Put them in a bag and throw them out the window. I’ll send Saam down to find it.”
“They’ll think of that.”
There was too much risk of it being blown somewhere they’d never find it. Or of it landing smack in the middle of a courtyard full of soldiers. “Signal Saam to get one of the windows below open. He can pull me in.”
“Zarrah, no!”
There was no amount of arguing that would convince him. She knew that. Knew that he’d seen too many people fall, and that the thought of it happening to her was more than he could bear. But she was going to do it anyway.
Fists pounded on the door.
“We’re coming in!”
Zarrah shoved the pile of pages back under her shirt, making sure they were held in place in the waist of her trousers.
Pulling a heavy chair next to the window, she looped Fiona’s leash around one of the feet, then fastened the metal clip to the buckle of her belt.
She swiftly twisted the length of her belt around her wrist and climbed onto the windowsill.
Keris caught hold of her shoulders. “I can’t lose you.”
“Then for the love of God, get Saam to open the window in the room below us!”
Taking a deep breath, she edged out the window and lowered herself. Wet mist swirled around her, blocking the lights of the city below, which was a mercy because to have stared down that long fall might have been her undoing.
The air was still without even a whisper of wind, and Zarrah braced her feet against the stone of the Sky Palace as she edged downward to the windows of the room below.
The diamonds of Fiona’s leash gleamed, and she prayed to every higher power that the leather was as good a quality as the stones, because if it gave, there would be no stopping her plunge.
There were no handholds, the windows near flush with the stone wall.
Wood splintered as the door was forced in, slamming heavily against the opposite wall.
“What is the meaning of this?” she heard Keris shout, but the response of the soldiers who’d broken in was too muffled to make out.
Hurry, she silently pleaded, her arms trembling from the effort of bearing her weight. All it would take was one soldier noticing Fiona’s leash hanging over the window frame and they’d catch her. At best, they’d pull her up.
At worst…
Crashing and Keris’s angry words of protest echoed down, then a soldier’s voice near the window. “Send word down the spiral to search the grounds. He may have thrown them out the window.”
“Thrown what?” Keris demanded. “What the fuck is the meaning of all this?”
“Your pretty bodyguard is believed to have stolen the royal family’s financial records,” the soldier replied. “Where is she?”
“I have no idea. And why would she do that?”
The man didn’t respond, only barked, “Search the room. Top to bottom!”
“The king will hear of this violation of my privacy,” Keris shouted, but Zarrah could hear the fear in his voice. Knew that he was envisioning her shattered at the bottom of the spiral, his composure holding together by a thread.
“Find his bodyguard! What’s her name? Daria?”
Hurry, Saam.
Her sweating palms were beginning to slide, her grip on the leather of her belt failing.
She was going to fall. Was going to smash against the stones of the courtyard below, dead before her screams finished echoing across Verwyrd. And though it was madness, Zarrah half swore she could hear her aunt laughing as she whispered, You deserve this fate.
“Zarrah!”
Her eyes shot downward to find Saam leaning out the window below.
“Climb down!” he whispered. “Hurry!”
Hand over hand, Zarrah edged down the length of her belt, every breath now a panicked gasp. Yet as she reached the end of her belt, it felt as though her heart seized entirely. Because she was still out of Saam’s reach. “I’m at the end!”
Her friend cursed, then whispered, “You’ll have to let go. I’ll catch you.”
How long would it take to fall? How long would she have to regret every choice? How long would she have to beg Keris not to give up without her?
“Zarrah,” Saam said softly. “I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”
Whether she trusted him or not, her grip was failing. You can do this, she ordered herself, trying to drive away the vision of her aunt’s head cracked open like a melon on the rocks. You can do this.
Zarrah edged her feet down until her weight was supported entirely by her arms. Her hands were sliding on the slick leather, and a scream started to rise in her throat. But if she screamed, they’d hear. If she screamed, all of this was for nothing.
Clenching her teeth, Zarrah opened her hands.
And dropped.
Her stomach slammed into her throat, and then Saam’s arms were around her. He tightened his grip under her armpits and heaved her into the dark room, where they both landed in a heap.
All she could do was suck in breath after breath, the rush in her veins making her feel so sick that it was a struggle not to vomit.
“They’re searching for you,” Saam whispered. “They think you stole papers from the bank.”
“Because I did.”
Saam sucked in a sharp breath. “You two will be the death of me, I swear. I hope whatever it was is worth it.”
The paper pressing against her stomach had the power to change everything. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know. A suite, but I don’t know whose.”
Zarrah squinted in the faint light coming in the window, then smiled as she caught sight of a Cardiffian headdress sitting on a table. “Lestara’s rooms.”
Pulling out the few pages she needed as proof of Alexandra’s involvement with the infected cattle, Zarrah hid the rest under the mattress of the bed. “One more nail in her coffin when they find this. Let’s go.”
Feet thundered past the door, and when they were gone, Zarrah cracked it open and looked both ways. “Let’s go.”
They left the room, but she immediately walked to the portrait hanging on the wall opposite and tucked the pages she needed behind it.
“Saam, when the dust settles, you need to get these south to my father. He’ll know what to do with them.
” Behind the next portrait she came to, Zarrah hid the letter that Edward had sent Keris, grateful she’d had the foresight to keep it on her. “All right, let’s get this over with.”