Wystwood

70. Banquet at the barracks

Ada couldn't keep from trembling as she ascended the ladder toward Wysthaven. Her dress gathered beneath the plain navy slippers she wore on her feet, and her knives bumped against her thigh as she climbed. Above her was Lark, who moved with grim determination into a looming darkness.

When Lark's breathing grew heavy, and Ada's arms were beginning to tire, a gust of air suddenly whipped into the ladder shaft. Along with it came the shriek of grinding stone, which echoed so loudly that Ada had to resist pressing her hands against her ears. Moonlight trickled down from above, gilding the final copper rungs that rose into the city.

Wysthaven's streets stretched out silently from the compass. There were no people on the cobbles, nor light from nearby windows. In the sky hung a full moon, its pale body draped in clouds that smothered the distant stars.

"This way," said Yue, already through a narrow archway. "And stay quiet."

Ada and Lark followed her without a word, their footsteps sounding unnervingly loud in the otherwise empty night. Yue swept them between the shadows, leading the way through a city of rough, crumbling walls and slick gutters. The inner city had hidden its darkest alleyways well in the night's swirling mists, although Yue seemed to uncover them all.

They crept through a walled garden, past a small hawthorn tree whose crimson fruit dripped juice as thick as blood, and came out into a private backstreet. At one end was a pronged gate, and between its bars came the thrum of voices, along with the rattling of chains.

"Through the gate is a courtyard, and the Barracks will be directly on your left," said Yue. "Not that you'll miss it. I'll wait for you here for two hours. A minute later and you're on your own."

"I suppose we ought to get on with it then," said Lark, in a mock-cheerful tone. He smoothed down his waistcoat, and Ada saw that his hands were trembling.

"I suppose you should," said Yue, though not as coldly as before. She stared a moment at Ada, then slunk back into the walled garden without a farewell.

Alone in the moonlight, Ada looked over at Lark, now fumbling with the neck of his cape, as if missing the weight of his lute against his back.

"Is this the part where you tell me you never had a plan after all?" said Ada, trying to sound lighthearted. "Because I should probably have done some stretches if you expect us to force our way in."

Lark huffed, half a laugh and half a rasp for air. "I might not fight as well as Solen, or brood as well as Raeph. But if there's one thing I know, it's class, and sometimes, that's all you need."

He straightened to his full height, becoming unmistakably fae as his body stretched upward like a mast through the mist. His cloak flapped behind him, though his hair remained neatly combed back from his face, shining bright as the fox on his breastbone. Caped and captivating, he looked to Ada like a lost prince of childhood fairytales.

"Walk by my side," Lark said, and then added guiltily, "and if you mustn't, don't talk."

"Ok." Ada stepped next to him, and when he crooked his arm, she reached up and placed her hand lightly on his elbow. "Let's find Solen."

Together they walked up to the gate and gave a tentative push. It swung back soundlessly onto a city square, buildings rising up on its every side and each one of them jutting out with wide balconies and stone beams. Upon the balconies burnt a mass of candles, their wax weeping down into webs.

The Barracks was colossal. Its grey brick body was held aloft by columns of rock, the space within falling down into the ground, though blocked behind a lattice of metal. Nothing grew around the building, for there were no plots of earth nor pottings of soil. The only sign of life came from the young man standing before a large set of chained doors.