Chapter 209 Cryer

Chapter 209 Cryer

ETAN

As they reached the front of the line into the city and nudged the horses under the Gateway arch through the wall, Etan's nerves spiked. There was little room to move here, the arch only big enough for three or four horses across—and two lines of guards watching the people file through, stopping merchants to check trade items, and no doubt watching for fugitives as well.

They had all dressed in their plainest clothes that day, and although they would be recognized as those of noble birth, Etan prayed their gear was just dirty enough to imply noble families with little money.

The guards sitting on horses were sharp-eyed and scanning the crowds, while those on their feet kept hold of weapons and questioned any the others called answer for their travels.

Beyond the merchants—who were no doubt searched for illegal goods, or trade that might compete with Anvor's jewel trade—Etan hadn't been able to pick any rhyme or reason for who the guards selected to question.

And without a clue for their criteria, he had no way to try to avoid it.

He sat his horse looking as much like a bored young lord as he knew how, slouching so as not to give away his training.

Borsche, though dressed normally now, pulled a set of juggling balls from somewhere in his cloth and began effortlessly tossing them into the air, winking and making jokes for the peasant women near them in the line.

He kept all the attention on himself to avoid eyes on Etan and Ayleth—for which Etan was extremely grateful.

For his part, Falek let his older face be seen, and rode close to Ayleth, marking her his ward.

Not a young couple in flight.

Definitely not young heirs fleeing parents or kingdoms.

As the horses ambled to the front and the guards' attention turned to their group, Etan was grateful to see the guard on the horse scan them and move on, his sharp eyes never fixing on them.

One of the guards on foot, put a spear in front of Borsche's horse, though.

"Can you do magic?" he asked, like a child after a toy. "Make one disappear."

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The Fortress City was huge with winding roads and narrow passages. The chances of them crossing it and making their way out of the City before nightfall was... virtually nil. But to stay here while the entire City was informed of their flight and called to war?!

Etan wanted to boot his mount into a gallop and let the people run out of the way, but instead he slouched like a tired traveler and dropped his chin, keeping only his eyes up, on Borsche's back. He could feel Ayleth behind him and didn't risk looking at her. Didn't want to draw anyone's attention to her.

When they finally reached a wider, open space—a market, Etan thought, judging by the number of animals tied, and peasants selling wares—he nudged his horse up next to Borsche's and leaned in as if they were only having a conversation about where to sleep for the night.

"Can we make it through the City before nightfall?" he whispered.

Borsche took a deep breath. "We're going to try. Follow me. And ignore the others. Falek and I have a plan. We'll meet them outside the gates."

Etan tensed. "We're splitting up?"

"Only for passage through the city," Borsche said, nodding and smiling at a pretty stallholder alongside the street. The woman grinned back at him and winked.

"But—" Etan began, beginning to turn in his saddle, but Borsche caught his arm and fixed him with a steely gaze. "You and I are travelling alone. We have nothing to do with a group of travellers hiding a Prince and Princess, you understand?" he muttered.

"But I vowed not to leave her!"

"You aren't. She's leaving you," Borsche said with a shrug.

Etan sucked in as he realized he could feel it—the way the bond drew away when there was distance between them. Borsche didn't let him turn, kept his grip on Etan's arm.

"We put this plan in place for exactly this situation, Etan. Falek knows where to meet us, and I assure you he is just as invested in seeing her get through here safely as you are. So... shut your mouth and start trotting. We need to move." Then Borsche clucked at his own mount whose head came up as the weary animal was pushed into a trot.

Cursing, Etan followed him, but he kept all his focus on the bond, sending love and reassurance to her, doing his best to mask the frustration he felt so she wouldn't perceive that.

This had better work, or he would be personally taking his blade to both men when it was done.