Into the Dim (Into the Dim, #1)(58)

An awful dread began to build inside me.

The crowd became too thick. The thief leaped up onto the far table, rampaging down its length. Goblets of wine and plates of food flew into the laps of startled guests.

“Oh God,” I whispered when I finally viewed the man’s face. My pulse doubled and my heart began to cave in on itself.

Next to me, Mom made a strangled noise. “Oh, Collum, no.”

Collum MacPherson never slowed as he neared the edge of the tabletop. His muscular thighs bunched as he jumped. He flew through the air, snatching hold of one of the hanging swags of evergreen.

Like a sports commentator diagramming plays for the viewers at home, my mind mapped it all out before he even made the motions. Neon-green lines drew themselves before me in curving arcs.

The first swag. Swoop. The low-slung chandelier. Backswing, then on to the second swag. Another backswing before a vertical drop to the table in the rear. A hop to the floor. Then a sprint out the back door.

Every muscle in my body strained. Stretch. Swing. Faster. Hurry, Collum.

“My God,” the king of England shouted. “Look at him go.”

It would’ve worked. Mathematically, it should’ve worked. If only the last bough had been stronger. The verdant swag ripped beneath his weight, and Collum dropped to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

All the air left my lungs in a rush. A dozen guards merged on him, a mix of the king’s crimson and the black and silver of the city watch. I lunged forward, but someone snagged the back of my dress.

“Hope!” my mother yelped in my ear. “You can’t.”

A guard went flying backwards. Another tumbled end over end, bowling into the hovering crowd. Collum was up, gladiator sword gleaming as he hobbled toward the open exit.

Phoebe raced to my side, braids flying, chest heaving. “Oh sweet Jesus.”

He was almost out. No one had yet thought to block the exit. Collum was hurt—that was obvious. But it didn’t slow him as he raced toward freedom.

Only three more steps. Two. Go, Collum! For God’s sake, run!

Phoebe already had one of her slim blades pinched between thumb and forefinger. As a burly guard approached her brother from behind, Phoebe’s arm reared back as she prepared to throw.

Seeing it, I frantically scanned the mass of guards converging on her brother. In one sweep, I calculated the odds, then snatched her arm down before anyone could notice. “No,” I hissed. “Not here. Not yet.”

It was the white-haired pig Eustace Clarkson who got him. Just as Collum’s foot stepped over the threshold, the brute raised a short nubby club in an overhand swing that bashed across the back of the Collum’s neck. He dropped like a chunk of lead. The other guards raced in, and the world narrowed to meaty thwacks as they kicked Collum’s limp form.

Bile raced up my throat. Sickened, I held fast to Phoebe. My friend’s sweet face had washed to green beneath her freckles as she struggled with me to let her go.

“Enough,” the king roared. “Do not injure that man further. He’s provided better entertainment than any juggler, by God. And every man in my kingdom shall have a fair trial. Take him to the Tower and see him patched up.”

Eustace Clarkson—pretending he hadn’t heard the king’s command—launched a last, savage kick to Collum’s ribs.

Phoebe had stopped fighting and was making a low, keening noise. I wrapped my arms around her tiny, shaking form, though my own chest felt like it had been scooped out with a melon baller.

As two of the guards lifted the slack Collum between them and hustled him away into the night, Thomas Becket glided across the room and snatched something from the floor. Smiling, he raised it triumphantly in the air. The dagger, all gleaming steel and polished gold. Though I couldn’t see the ornamental jewel from this angle, I couldn’t care less. We now had much bigger problems than worrying about a stupid stone.

The king settled back onto his throne while the room rang with cheers and the banging of cups. I stared out the door, a heavy weight slamming down on my shoulders as I realized we might never see Collum again.

Henry addressed his subjects. “From this day forward, may every man under my rule know that he lives in a just kingdom.” Shouts of “huzzah” slashed the stuffy air. Henry was energized. His voice boomed over the room, sending every eye his way. “And I say, a thief with enough balls to steal my own property right out from under my nose deserves a proper trial! Let no man ever claim I am not a fair ruler!”

“God save His Grace! God save the king!”

They roared it until I thought the roof might cave in.





Chapter 28


HENRY WAS RIGHT. I’D STUDIED THIS ERA BACKWARDS AND FORWARD. I knew that by the end of Henry’s thirty-five-year reign, the previously lawless kingdom would become a land of peace, law, and stability. When he died, it was said a virgin could walk the length of England completely naked without being touched.

It wasn’t something this virgin would try. And though it was great for England, it was a terrible, awful thing for us. Collum had just become the first criminal of King Henry II’s reign.

I dashed the tears from my face and whirled to face my mom. “We have to help him.”

She didn’t answer, only stared at the empty door.

“Mom?” When she didn’t respond, panic began to edge my voice. “Mom!” I shook her, forcing her to look at me. “What do we do?”