I want to slap him. “No. If you don’t come with me now, I will stay here and explain exactly what I found at the Sanctum and why you’re innocent. And I’ll tell the whole city how Juliane died.”
Simon’s expression darkens, but at least it’s not blank anymore. “Cat, my uncle will do whatever it takes to save face, even if it means throwing you in the gaol, too.”
“I know. That’s why you’d better come with me.”
He shakes his head. “Cat, I’m not worth this kind of risk.”
I drag him with me to the window. “That’s my decision.” The garden below is dark, meaning the study is empty again. Quietly, I point out the places Simon needs to put his hands and feet to climb down. “You first,” I tell him. I won’t risk him not following.
Making a noise of exasperation, he throws one leg over the sill, then the other, and feels for the toeholds I showed him. “How did you do this in a skirt?” he hisses.
“Years of practice.” I help Simon ease down until he’s at a height low enough to jump the rest of the way. He lands with a grunt.
I stand straight and look back at the room. We’ll need all the time we can get, so I quickly cross to the door and bolt it from the inside. That will take a while to break through. Turning around, I catch sight of Juliane’s sallow face. She lies on her back with her eyes half open, like the shutters of an empty, lifeless house. The coverlet has fallen to her waist, probably from Oudin shaking her, and one thin arm hangs over the side of the bed. I can’t just leave her like that.
I tread quietly to her side and gently close her eyes with my fingers, then pull the blanket up higher. When I grab her cold hand to lay it across her chest, I feel something under the fabric, looped around her arm. The end of it peeks out of the sleeve at her wrist. It looks like twine until I look closer…
Oh Sun. It’s impossible.
I pull on the end, and it comes out easily as it was only wrapped loosely. It’s exactly what I thought it was.
Not possible. Not possible.
Hurriedly, I stuff it into my own sleeve and dash to the window. Simon looks up with panicked eyes. I don’t even bother trying to climb down; I’ve jumped from much higher before. I land softly, taking the impact with bent knees. Simon seizes my arm. “What the hell took you so long?” he gasps. “I thought you were about to do something stupid.”
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s go.”
“I can’t,” Simon says. “I landed on a stone and twisted my ankle. It might be broken.”
Gritting my teeth, I grab his arm and heave it over my shoulder. “You’re not getting caught tonight, Venatre.Now move.”
We limp out of the garden by the gate and into the back street as I grope for the moonstone again. My hearing returns to my eavesdropping level, but there’s no moon, and I can’t regain the sight I put in the voidstone. It does, however, provide a tiny amount of light that no one else will be able to see.
Simon shifts his weight onto his good foot. “Where are we going?”
“The only place they’ll never look for you,” I answer. Resettling my shoulder into his armpit, I head south.