Maren Goldweaver's Arc

Chapter 11 of 42

Maren crossed the yard in the dead guard's coat. The cap sat low on her brow. The badge scratched her collarbone. She kept her stride slow, the way she had watched the others walk. At the fence, the two guards at the gate glanced up. She lifted a hand. They lifted theirs and looked back at the road. She passed inside. The cells sat in a row against the wall, iron bars streaked with rust. Grass grew up to the stone. She counted from the end. Second cell. A shape sat inside with knees drawn up. Her sister looked cold. Thin. Bruised at one wrist. Skin gray under the freckles. But breathing. Alive. A gold hoop still hung from one ear. Maren stopped at the bars. Gisela's head came up. Her mouth twisted. She spat on Maren's boots. "Haven't you had enough taunting for one day." "It's me," Maren whispered. Gisela's eyes went huge. A sound came up her throat and she caught it behind her hand. She rose on shaking legs and gripped the bars. "Maren." "Quiet. Come close." Maren pulled a gold earring from her ear. She bent the hook straight against her thumbnail and slid it into the lock. The rust fought her. She turned her wrist and felt the pins drag. "They switch soon," Gisela breathed. "The guards. Every hour. It has to be near." "I know." Maren glanced over her shoulder. The two at the gate faced the road. The yard was empty. Somewhere past the tree line Miller was watching with the rifle. She turned back to the lock. One pin caught. Another. The wire bent. She straightened it against the bar and tried again. Sweat ran down her spine under the gray coat. "Almost," she whispered. Gisela pressed her forehead against the iron. "Please." "Almost." The wire slipped. Maren swore under her breath and reset it. She felt the last pin lift. Click. The lock dropped into her palm. She caught the door before it swung. "Come out. Walk beside me. Head down." Gisela stepped through and nearly buckled. Maren caught her under the arm. The girl weighed almost nothing. Maren shut the cell door and hooked the broken lock back through the loop so it looked closed from ten paces. Then a bell rang from the low building. Sharp. Twice. At the gate, one guard straightened and turned toward the yard. His eyes tracked across the cells and landed on Maren with a girl on her arm. He shouted. Maren pulled Gisela hard against her side and ran for the fence line. From the trees came the crack of Miller's rifle. The shouting guard dropped. The second guard swung his weapon up toward the woods. "Run," Maren said into her sister's hair. "Run with me now." Gisela ran.