MILDRED'S PULSE KICKED hard against her skin, and her breathing quickened as she crouched in an evergreen that bordered the southern wall around the northeast garrison, gripping the branch beneath her with gloved hands. Sasha perched above her, her Hemmaht black eyes fixed on the garrison.
It had been two days since Mildred had seen the desperate mother kill her children to spare them death by starvation. Two days, and the horror was as fresh as the day it had happened.
Today's robbery wouldn't make that right—nothing could—but it was a step in the right direction.
The tree shook as Sydney climbed up to join her. His curly black hair was hidden beneath a cap, and he carried their stash of burlap sacks rolled into a pack on his back.
"All set on the plan?" he asked quietly as they watched the garrison's patrol—a pair of guards in full uniform—march inside the western perimeter of the wall.
"Of course I'm all set on the plan. It's my plan." It would take the patrol fourteen minutes to complete the circuit around the inside of the wall. Fourteen minutes for Mildred to get into place and be ready to create a distraction worthy of diverting the attention of every soldier inside the garrison to her.
"It's a terrible plan," Sydney said, his hands clenching and unclenching within his gloves.
"You didn't think so yesterday when you and Alvie were putting your end of it together."
Thirteen minutes. She scanned the garrison for movement. The plan would work if the only soldiers out in the frigid weather were those required to be on patrol. Close to the northern corner of the wall—the spot where Alvie waited, along with the handful of trusted peasants from the surrounding villages who'd been invited to bring a wagon and load it down with supplies for their respective towns—a stocky structure housed the
storehouse of food. The kitchens and the dining hall were close by, but the armory was on the southern side of the garrison, and the barracks were to the west. No one should be near the storehouse in the middle of the afternoon.
Mildred was going to make sure of it.
"It's a terrible plan because you're taking most of the risk." Sydney's voice was edged with worry. "If I'm seen carrying food from the storehouse to the wall, I can just scale the wall. By the time the soldiers get out of the gate, we'll have disappeared into the forest."
"I can scale walls too. I'll be fine."
"You can't scale walls if you get caught." He turned to her, and the mischief that usually lit his eyes was replaced by the kind of unrelenting fierceness Mildred usually saw in Alvie. "If this works, every soldier in the barracks will be after you. If they catch you—"
"If they catch me, I have a weapon they can't take from me. That's why I'm better suited for this distraction than you are."
"No." He glared at her. "No magic. I know I'm always the one pushing you to practice so we can get rid of Elinor one day, but you can't do magic here, Mildred. This place is Elinor's down to the last grain of dirt on the ground. She'll have bespelled it so she can keep an eye on her soldiers, or she'll have spies throughout the ranks, or . . . I don't know. Something. And if you use magic, she'll know that we're alive, and she'll know exactly where to find us."
"I'm not going to use magic. My weapon is Sasha." She smiled at him. "Remember how you wanted a name for us? Something that would give people hope?"
He gave her a tiny smile in return. "I finally convinced you to call us the Fearsome Threesome, didn't I?"
She snorted. "No. But I've been thinking about what that poor woman said."
"'There is no help left in Gruidarid. Not for the likes of us.'" Sydney nodded. "I've been thinking about it too."
"I want people to know that they haven't been forgotten. That their problems matter, and that we are doing something about it." She met his gaze. "I think we should call ourselves the Heirs."
A slow smile spread across Sydney's face. "I like it. But you know that if we make a name for ourselves as the Heirs, Elinor is eventually going to hear about us and come looking."
Mildred held her brother's gaze. "We can't hide from her forever. Not if we're going to save Gruidarid. Now, we have ten minutes before the patrol returns to the western part of the wall. Time to get in position. Don't get
caught."
"Don't get caught yourself." He gave her a one-armed hug and then shinnied down the trunk. He ran for the northeast corner of the wall where he'd scale it, rig a simple rope and pulley system with Alvie, and then break into the storehouse so he could start sending bags of food over the wall to the waiting wagons.
Where is the patrol? she asked Sasha, sending an image of the pair of soldiers marching inside the wall.
Sasha spread her wings, lifted herself out of the evergreen, and flew over the garrison. Corner. Sydney. She sent an image of the soldiers approaching the northeast corner where Sydney, Alvie, and their helpers waited.
It was time to send a message—not just to the villagers but to Elinor—that there was help in Gruidarid for those who needed it most.
It was time to make the next big move in Mildred's plan to weaken Elinor and take back the throne.
Cover me. Mildred sent, and then she was moving. Swinging from the branch, she dropped lightly onto the garrison's wall. Her boots, thin-soled and flexible, gripped the narrow lip of stone as she began moving west with quick, light steps. Sasha swooped through the air and flew beside her.
Nine minutes until the soldiers reached the place where the stables huddled just past the long, low-slung wooden buildings that housed the barracks.
Reaching the southwest corner, Mildred pressed her hands against the stone, gathered herself, and leaped for the ground. The rocky dirt seemed to rise up to meet her, and she tucked her body, rolling forward upon impact. She was running the second she got her feet beneath her again.
Eight minutes.
Check the barn. She glanced at Sasha as the bird surged ahead and began circling the distant stables.
Clear. Sasha sent. Ready?
Almost. Mildred sprinted across the open space that stretched between the wall and the stables. She had to run past all three barracks to get there. Any moment a soldier could look out of a window and see what looked like a boy in a soot-stained cap and sound the alarm.
She hoped one would.
The barn loomed before her, a solid block of brown wood with white trim. Lifting the iron latch, she pulled the double doors open and went inside. The barracks were still quiet. None of the soldiers had any idea their security had been breached.
Time to change that.
Racing down the row of stalls, she flipped the latches and pulled open the doors. The horses snorted in alarm at her appearance, and a few shied away, but several tentatively left their stalls and looked toward the open door.
"That's right. You want out. Trust me, you aren't going to want to stay here." She used her most coaxing tone of voice, but the horses didn't look convinced, and Mildred was out of time. Any minute, the patrol would be back, and they needed to see the kind of situation that required the attention of every soldier in the barracks.
Sasha, help. Get the horses out.
Mildred reached the ladder that led to the hayloft as Sasha flew through the open doors. Her bird swooped through the air, pecking at hindquarters and shrieking as she drove the panicked horses out of the barn, and Mildred raced up the ladder and into the loft.
Horses clear. Sydney?
Yes. Tell Sydney he can start.
Sasha flew out of the barn, and Mildred shoved the loft doors open, letting in a slap of air that still carried a bite from the previous day's late autumn snowstorm. The patrol was approaching the section of the wall that flanked the barracks, but their attention was locked on the horses the milled about the stable yard. With a shout, the two broke into a run, heading for the barn.
"That's the least of your worries," Mildred said as she assessed the stacks of hay that surrounded her. The bales were stacked three high and eight deep. More than enough to burn the whole thing down.
Another shout drifted up to the open loft doors, and Mildred snatched her tinderbox from her pocket and flicked the lid open. Flint struck the glittering black stone inside the box, and a brilliant white flame leaped to life. Moving quickly, she swept down the line of hay bales, shoving the flame into the dried grass and then racing on when that bale caught fire. Soon, the loft was ablaze, fire greedily chewing through one hay bale and then leaping for the next.
The heat was nearly unbearable. Her skin felt dry and crisp as she hurried to the open loft doors. Flames crawled from the hay and raced up the wall. She grabbed the edges of the opening and peered out.
Soldiers were pouring out of one of the barracks while horses reared and shied away from those who tried to catch them. In the barn beneath Mildred, someone shouted, and footsteps pounded up the ladder. She looked at the ground to assess her jump and locked eyes with a soldier who stood directly below her.
"Thief!" the woman yelled, pulling her sword and pointing it up toward the princess. Soldiers rushed to her side.
Mildred's heart thudded against her chest, and magic burned in her palms. She couldn't stay in the barn surrounded by fire.
She couldn't leap directly to the ground. She had to improvise.
Sasha, help! she sent, and then she swung her body out of the loft doors, balanced on the edge of the opening, and prayed salvation would hurry up.
A sharp pain seared her neck, and she slapped her gloved hands against her coat as the fire that was consuming the barn wall came for her. Another pain, this time above her ear, had her ripping off her cap and throwing it behind her as flames chewed into it.
Hurry! She scanned the skies, but Sasha was coming from behind the barn, and Mildred couldn't see anything but the steadily growing sea of soldiers below her, their swords held ready to impale her when she fell.
"Surrender in the name of the queen!" the woman who'd first seen Mildred yelled.
It was either burn to death or leap into the throng of soldiers. Mildred was out of time. Grabbing the edges of the loft doors, she muttered a prayer and chose a landing spot to the left that appeared to have the smallest concentration of sharp weapons ready to punish her for her treason.
I'm jumping. She sent, and shook with relief when Sasha exploded over the top of the barn and dove for the soldiers.
Protect. Hurt. Kill. Sasha's thoughts vibrated with fury. She screamed her battle cry and swooped below the line of swords. Crashing into the soldiers closest to the barn, the bird tore at them with her beak and talons, sending them staggering back into those behind them.
It was all the opening Mildred needed. Launching herself into the air, she tucked her knees, aimed for a soldier who'd turned his back to defend himself against Sasha's next attack, and slammed into him.
They went down hard, and Mildred rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the wicked slice of someone's sword, and then scrambled to her feet. Soldiers filled the stable yard and more were coming. Mildred needed to get out while she still had a chance.
Wall, Mildred screamed as Sasha tore into another line of soldiers, nearly getting impaled by a sword in the process. Path.
A full grown gyrfalcon in hunting mode was a terrifying force to be reckoned with. As big as a buzzard, twice as fast as a cougar, and viciously focused on her prey, Sasha's shrieks batted the air as she dove, tore, and collided with anyone between Mildred and the wall. Tucking her head, Mildred raced behind her bird, somersaulting beneath a soldier who lunged for her and then flipping to the side to avoid another's sword.
The wall loomed in front of her. Soldiers were running behind her. Sasha surged upward seconds before a thin black arrow streaked through the sky, just missing the gyrfalcon.
Danger. Flee. Mildred willed the bird to obey as she approached the wall without slowing. She aimed for the corner, the joint that marked the meeting of north and west.
"Stop in the name of the queen!" "Kill her!"
"Forget the bird. Shoot the girl!"
The shouts rose behind her as Mildred gathered herself. Planting her left foot, she launched her right foot toward the wall. The second it touched, she kicked outward, gaining height and leverage. Her left foot hit the wall, and she kicked outward again, forcing herself upward, defying gravity. Using the corner for additional leverage, she reached the top of the wall in four leaps. Slapping her palms onto the edge, she pulled her legs beneath her, touched her toes to the wall, and then leaped for the closest tree.
Sasha landed hard on her shoulder, talons gripping tight, her mind filled with furious worry for Mildred.
Watch our backs. Mildred took off running for the northeast corner where Alvie and Sydney were finishing the job of emptying the garrison's storehouse. The wagons gathered in the forest were laden with bags of grain, beans, apples, dried vegetables, and spices. Alvie took one look at Mildred's face as she sprinted around the corner of the wall and barked a command at those around him.
By the time the soldiers secured the horses and opened the garrison's gate to search for her, Mildred, Sydney, and the rest of the robbers—along with over half the food kept in the storehouse—were gone.