It had been three days since Catara had thrown Ara in prison. At first, Ara had enjoyed speaking with Jarrer again, but eventually, her thoughts turned to the Cohen and her father. She couldn't bear to sit in the dark any longer. She'd just determined to use her soul to attack the guard and take her chances, when the faint sound of footsteps echoed off the cold stone walls. Ara heard the muffled voices greeting behind the door. "Brought you some of the Queen's wine," one voice said.
"Why would the Queen send me wine on duty?" the Elve asked in disbelief.
"The Queen's head cook sent it. She'd a lovely woman, and the best cook in all Lourel. Wish she'd send me some wine as a gift." The voice said longingly. "She wants to meet with you after your shift to see if you enjoyed it."
More footsteps and a slot opened at the bottom of the thick door. A cloth covered bucket was shoved through. "Dinner." Jarrer commented. The slot closed and the footsteps retreated back up the stairs. Not feeling the least bit hungry, Ara continued her pacing.
Heavily, Jarrer heaved himself up. Removing the cloth covering, he gasped in shock. A little alarmed, Ara hurried over next to him just in time to see him withdraw a key from the bucket. They looked at each other in stupefied wonder.
His eyes wide, Jarrer handed the key to Ara and delved deeper into the bucket. His hand came back clutching a note. Hastily unfolding it, he read aloud. "Wait until dark then slip from the castle. Meet me by the sea. I'll have Kodan."
He handed it to Ara. She looked in vain for a signature then flipped it over to the backside only to find crumbs of bread. Was it some kind of trap? Ara looked hesitantly to Jarrer for answers. "Have you made any friends during your stay?"
He shook his head no. "You?"
Ara thought of Lark, but then changed her mind. She'd already lost everything thanks to Ara, and surely, she'd already been banished. She wouldn't help them. Ara shrugged. "Not any that would risk themselves for me." Ara and Jarrer hastily ate the bread, cheese, and fish inside the bucket then waited in the dimly lit cell for the cover of darkness.
After what seemed an unbearable length of time, Jarrer and Ara stealthily approached the door. Peeking out the window, Ara saw the guard hunched over a table, the remnants of the wine still twinkling in the glass. Slipping the key silently inside the lock, Jarrer swung open the door—cringing as the hinges groaned loudly. Still the Elve didn't stir.
As quietly as possible, Jarrer lifted his and Ara's weapons off the wall. His eyes flew to Ara's as he noticed Cohen's dagger among her things, but he didn't say anything. Holding their weapons gingerly, they waited until they were out of the guard's earshot before strapping them on. When they reached the top of the spiraling staircase, Jarrer gestured for Ara to be silent. Stealthily, he led her in the opposite direction she'd come earlier that day. "Where are we going?" Ara gestured to the way out.
"To the sea." Jarrer answered.
"But we're going deeper into the castle." She pointed out.
Jarrer motioned for her to be quiet, and Ara steeled herself to trust him. They slunk silently through empty halls. Ara marveled at the perfectly smooth white walls and the intricate décor as Jarrer strode purposefully forward. Ara had to admit, he seemed to know exactly where he was going. He paused at a blank piece of wall and traced an invisible pattern. Instantly, the wall swung inward.
"A tracer door!" Ara hissed.
Jarrer motioned for her to be quiet. "Long ago, the Dwarves were commissioned to build this city."
