Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(56)

Come on, Mira, I told myself. Father would do this. Lonzo would do this.

I untied the rope and let it fall. Gingerly, I stepped onto the narrow molding one foot at a time. It seemed almost laughable now, thinking the climb out of Wisteria Hollow’s back window was dangerous. The sill jutted out, and I held on to it firmly with one hand while using my other to slide the window shut. With that complete, I painstakingly turned myself around so that I now faced Grant and not the building. The ground seemed a lot farther away than it had the last time I looked.

Grant held out his arms. “Would it make you feel better to know Aiana’s going to kill me if anything happens to you?”

“Not really.”

But I tensed, ignoring the pain in my calf, and then launched myself up. In the split second that my feet lifted from the ledge, a shout sounded from far down the alley. “Oy! What do you think you’re doing?”

The watchman. It threw both of us off. My jump was clumsy, and I completely forgot about aiming at Grant. He too was startled and looked away for a moment toward the sound, just as I plummeted toward him. The result was that he did, in fact, break my fall, and we both tumbled into the ground.

Grant made it to his feet first and jerked me up. “Run,” he said, steering me in the opposite direction of the rapidly approaching watchman. “We’re younger and in better shape. He can’t catch us.”

The watchman’s whistle pierced the night. “Thieves! Thieves! Help!”

“Let’s hope whoever he summons isn’t younger and in better shape than us,” I grunted as we cleared the alley. I was keeping pace with Grant so far, but pain shot through my leg with each step.

“Which way did they go?” a new voice barked.

“There—down that alley!” yelled the watchman. The sounds of boots—more than one set—pounded on the ground, one street over at most.

“By the governor’s authority, stop and surrender!”

“Of all the damned luck, the militia would be out tonight,” growled Grant. “This way. We’ll lose them downtown.”

We rounded a corner and found ourselves back on the edge of Cape Triumph’s nightlife. A giant tavern and inn took up almost the entire block in front of us. Music spilled out of it, and the golden windows revealed crowds of people inside. Other clusters lingered out on the porch, men smoking and women strutting in scanty dresses, despite the cold. Glancing back at the direction we’d come from, I could hear shouts and just barely see silhouettes of running men about three blocks away.

“Take off the wig,” Grant ordered as he began tearing at his own and the beard. I pulled mine off, wincing as hairpins snagged at my real hair. He stuffed both wigs into yet another pocket of his giant coat and then grabbed my hand, leading us toward the establishment’s door.

Inside, the noise was even more intense. The piano sang with a jaunty tune far removed from anything I’d learned at Blue Spring, and patrons laughed and yelled around us. Some played poker, slamming cards and coins on the table. Deft servers slipped through the crowds with drinks and food. Smoke and the scent of sweat hung heavy in the air. More barely dressed women sauntered around the room—some doing more than sauntering. I stared in disbelief as one couple kissed in a doorway, oblivious to those around them. Another woman had climbed to the center of a table of men, teasing and laughing with them as they tried to lift the edge of her skirt. I became very conscious of my missing wig, with only a mask to shield me.

“I can’t be recognized in a place like this!” I shouted to Grant.

“Better here than jail,” he called back. “Look—a table opened up by the bar.”

We pushed our way through the mob, snatching the two chairs before anyone else could. We sat so close to the bar that Grant only had to stand and call out to the bartender for wine. Moments later, a decanter and cups appeared on the table.

“We’re just having a nice drink. A pleasant time.” Grant’s gaze, anything but pleasant, remained fixed on the door as he spoke. “If the militia does think to look in here, they won’t recognize us from whatever descriptions they got.”

My hands shaking, I filled the cups with wine but didn’t touch mine. “So much for the watchman being too lazy to patrol the other side of the building.”

Grant shot me a withering look. “How bad is your leg?”

“Before or after I fell out a window?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve told me it was still bothering you. I’ll take a look when we get back to—” His focus shifted behind me, and I knew what had happened.

“The militia’s here.”

“Just one. Don’t turn around. Drink your wine. Smile.”

I couldn’t manage the smile but brought the cup to my lips without drinking. A man stormed up to the counter beside us. “I’m looking for a couple of thieves,” he told the bartender importantly. “A man and a woman.”

The bartender didn’t blink. “We’ve got plenty of them. Take your pick.”

“Young blonde girl. Older man.”

“Take your pick,” the bartender repeated, gesturing to the crowded room behind us. “I didn’t notice anyone like that, but then, your description’s a little vague.”

The militiaman scowled and scanned the room, his eyes passing over Grant and me. “Hey,” he yelled, waving at the door. “Come here, and tell him anything else you saw.”