He reached for the first beam, leaving the pipe behind. With his feet dangling, he swung to the next beam and the next. Now he was hanging above the wall walk. Above him, there was a window, too far to reach. He’d have to go down.
There should be a guard inside the tower. Leo whistled, and sure enough, an armed guard stepped out to look around.
Leo dropped on top of him, knocking the guard down. One touch of his hand on the guard’s uniform, and the man was jolted unconscious. An accidental touch to the man’s bare skin would kill him, so Leo quickly put on his gloves. He dragged the man into the tower before any other guards on the wall walk could notice.
Now inside the tower, he spotted a door and opened it. The privy. He headed up the spiral staircase to the top floor.
Peering around the center column, he spotted two guards by the chamber door. He moved with lightning speed, and by the time they saw him, it was too late for them to unsheathe their swords. He grabbed each man by his helmet and clashed them together with enough force that they were both knocked out. As they tumbled onto the wooden floor, Leo removed one glove and peered at the lock in the door. The key was on the other side.
Energy surged around his bare hand, then reached out to connect with the large, metal key. Slowly, he turned his hand to rotate the key till he heard a click. He’d unlocked the door.
His heart pounded. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and tugged his glove back on. Then he quietly opened the door.
Chapter Thirteen
A whistling sound woke Luciana from a light slumber. Probably a bird, she thought as she peered around the dimly lit room. Dawn was breaking, but very little sunlight filtered through the windows that faced north and west.
There was no need to worry, she told herself. Jensen and another guard were just outside her locked door. And more guards were below. There were even some soldiers from the Lord Protector’s army on the ground floor. Father had assured her that while she remained hidden for a few days, all three assassins would be discovered.
She closed her eyes. No need to worry.
A clashing noise jolted her wide awake. She sat up as loud thuds hit the wooden floor outside. Her guards? Her heart leaped up her throat. The assassin was back!
Goddesses, help me! She jumped out of bed. Surely, the assassin couldn’t get in. She’d locked the door herself.
Slowly, the key turned as if an invisible hand were moving it. How was that possible? Terror seized her in an iron grip as she looked frantically around the room. No weapons. If she jumped out a window, it would probably kill her.
With trembling hands, she reached for the candlestick on her bedside table. With her right hand she yanked out the lit candle. Then she grasped the brass candleholder upside down with her left hand. If the assassin drew near, she’d burn him with the candle and clobber him with the heavy base of the candleholder.
Goddesses, give me strength. She’d never used violence before. But what choice did she have?
The door opened slowly, and she pressed against the wall as a cloaked man slipped inside. She couldn’t make out his face hidden in the hood, but there was something oddly familiar about him.
He was tall. Muscular. Strong. He stepped noiselessly into the room, his movement stealthy and controlled.
Now. I should attack before he sees me. She drew in a deep breath and eased forward.
He spun around to face her, and she froze. His hood kept his face in shadow, but she could feel his gaze on her. His head tilted as if he was looking her over inch by inch. Suddenly she was painfully aware that she was wearing nothing but a thin white nightgown. And he was still staring.
“I apologize for alarming you,” he said softly. “I thought you would be asleep.”
“You hoped to stab me in my sleep?” She extended the candle toward him. “Don’t come near me.”
He remained still, but she could feel an intensity radiating around him, as if he was filling the room with a great deal of energy that he somehow kept in check. “You should put the candle down before the wax burns you.”
“You’ll be the one getting burned.” She widened her stance and brandished her weapons. “You should leave while you have the chance.”
There was a flash of white teeth when he smiled. “You’re brave. I like that.”
She blinked. Since when did an assassin flatter a victim before doing his deadly deed? “Make no mistake. I will hurt you.” She raised her voice and yelled, “Guards!”
“They can’t hear you.” He strode toward the window that overlooked the Southern Sea.
Her mouth fell open in disbelief. He’d turn his back on her? How could he be so sure she wouldn’t attack? Or was he so arrogant he assumed her attack would fail? She was tempted to clonk him on the head just to prove she could.
She slapped herself mentally. Why fight an assassin when she could escape? She eased toward the door.
He peered out the window. “No need for you to leave. Especially dressed like that.”
She glanced down and winced. Tatiana’s nightgown was embarrassingly sheer. Even so, survival was more important than modesty. She took another large step toward the door.
He turned toward her, and she stilled. “I came to make sure your room is secure.”
What? “Why?”
“To keep you safe.” He studied the hearth for a moment, then moved to the window above the wall walk.
Who was this man? Somehow, she felt as if she should know him. Even his voice sounded familiar.
He peered out the window. “This could be used to access the room. You’ll need more guards below.”