Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(112)

“I was worried about you,” I whisper.

His hands soften against my back, then we let go. “So was I. The entire palace has gathered its attention on the safety of the prince. The king thinks Méndez is handling you, but that won’t last long.” His gaze shifts to take in the state of the justice. A question lights up his eyes. I expect him to shrink away from me. I expect disgust. Instead, I see understanding.

“Well, it seems you’ve been busy,” he says. “I had planned to sneak you out the servants’ exit, but it would be risky.” He takes Méndez by the arm. “Without a justice.”

Margo grabs Leo before he can lead Méndez down a corridor.

“While I want to thank you for everything you’ve done,” Margo says, “I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I can explain now and let ourselves be caught, or we can walk, but we can’t do both,” Leo says, glancing over his shoulder.

“I trust him,” I say. “We can argue later, Margo.”

Leo turns on the heel of his polished boot and leads the way. He grabs a few sets of shackles, rusted and thick, and hands them to each of us. Esteban balks at the idea of being at the complete mercy of Leo, and I understand his concern, but we don’t have time to debate. I snap the shackles onto my wrists, trusting Leo with our lives.

Prisoners who are awake shout as we parade before their cells.

“We should free them,” I say. Davida’s face comes to mind. Good heart. Protect us all. “I have Méndez’s master key.”

“You can choose to save them,” Leo says. “But you’ll be sacrificing your own freedom.”

I hesitate. Then, with shame, I nod and follow Leo away from the other prisoners, vowing to come back, with greater numbers. In time.

When we reach the exit of the dungeon, we’re spat out into the courtyard. My back stiffens as I see guards posted along the perimeter, more than I’m used to. With Leo and Méndez in the lead, no one questions us. Though, if anyone looked closely, they’d see the vacant expression in Méndez’s eyes and the tight grip that Leo has on his arm as he leads him down the hall.

Instead of heading toward the front gate, Leo loops around to the side, as if going to the gardens in the back. We stop at a thick metal door, so rusted I wonder if it will even open.

“Once you’re outside the walls, go down the path for half a mile. It leads to the fish market,” he says.

“My trust only extends as far as I can see, and I cannot see beyond this door,” Margo remarks.

I open my mouth to defend him. He’s had more than enough opportunities to report me, but Leo nods at her, shutting me up, then looks at me.

“I lied to you, Lady Ren. When we met, I told you I was a stage actor, but there was more.”

We have to go. I know we do. But I need to hear this from him. “Tell me.”

“I’m from Citadela Zahara. I was with the Bandolino Company, traveling the kingdom. My husband was a Persuári. After he was killed I stopped performing and found employ with Lady Nuria. When her marriage to the prince was canceled, I was reassigned to Justice Méndez. I saw an opportunity to get messages for my mistress. Justice Méndez trusted me. I’m no rebel or leader, but I do what I can.”

The truth at last. We’ve danced around it enough times. I’m relieved that through all the confusion of the Gray, my memories, the politics of the palace, my instincts were correct: He was never one of them.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your husband,” Sayida says in her gentle way.

“We won’t get far once they notice we’re gone,” I say.

“You will if every guard is busy chasing after the other escaped prisoners.” Leo holds out a hand for the master key. The skin-on-skin sensation startles me for a moment when I hand it over, but he doesn’t even flinch.

You don’t deserve his trust, a voice whispers at me from the bleeding Gray.

“Do you know where the weapon was moved to?” Margo asks in that demanding way of hers.

“No, but maybe Méndez’s memories will help.” He looks at me questioningly.

I shake my head. There are so many. It would be too hard to sort through them. “No need. I know where to go. It was Lady Nuria who told me.”

Lady Nuria who gifted me this dress and told me a story she’d be jailed—maybe executed—for uttering out loud. The traitorous girl from Tresoros, daughter of queens. I bunch up my ruined dress stitched with platinum. I think of her warning to me during the queen’s garden party. How she could try to help us and love Castian so much, I still don’t understand.

“And we can trust her?” Esteban asks, his voice hoarse, like he’s spent hours screaming.

“Yes. Lady Nuria is”—Margo nods sharply in understanding before I need to go on—“a friend.”

Leo glances between us all and clears his throat. His features are grave, pleading almost. “Your secrecy is most important to my lady. It is the only way we can keep helping others.”

We turn to Margo, who extends her hand to Leo. For a moment, my worlds feel settled, bridged together.

“Which reminds me.” He reaches into his jacket and brings out a velvet pouch. “She can’t leave the palace without raising suspicions. But here is a parting gift.”