By no means optimal. Even less encouraging.
Hurrying between two low-lying shrubs, Nairobi descended the last set of stairs and entered the courtyard. Her footfalls slowed as she approached the high gate and, eying the thorny deterrents at its top, reached into the front pocket of her satchel. With a tug, she pulled out a pair of leather gloves. Tearing her gaze from the spikes, she studied the ironwork and plotted her course—handholds, footholds, the best places to find a good grip, the smaller spaces to avoid. Up one side. Down the other. No problem. She could do it. Keep the fear at bay long enough to win her freedom and find her way home.
Each breath naught but a harsh rasp, she pulled on the protective hand-wear and approached on silent feet. Almost there. One more obstacle. A fast climb, a quicker descent, and she’d be standing outside the outer wall, running for her life, looking over her shoulder, navigating the streets of Ismal to reach the forest’s edge. From there, she knew the way: due north to White Temple. The only place she’d ever truly belonged.
With a yank, she tugged the hem of her short jacket down, then tightened the leather strap across her chest. All good. Despite its weight against her back, the bag would hold. Now so must she. Flexing her fingers, she reached out, grabbed her first handhold, and searched for the next. Slow and steady, calm and sure, she started to climb. Nairobi huffed and wiggled her foot, wedging the toe of her boot into a small crevice. Calm. Right. ’Twas all an illusion. She was nowhere near steady. Shaky, full of panic, about to lose her grip on the icy ironwork—goddess, all true, but she refused to stop now.
Inhaling hard, she forced her lungs to expand. Hanging four feet off the ground, she exhaled in a rush, then repeated the process. White puffs pushed from her mouth, painting the metal with frost. In. Out. Catch her breath, then release it. The influx of air helped, allowing her to look for the next handhold, helping her go on, soothing her nerves even as her muscles trembled and her courage shook. Just a bit farther. Six feet to her goal. Now three. So close. All she needed to do was hold the line, make it to the top, pick a path over the spikes, and—
“Nairobi!”
The shout echoed across the garden. Her focus snapped to the right, then traveled up the path next to the outer wall. Oh nay. Oh gods . . . Adam. He’d spotted her the moment he’d rounded the blind corner next to the row of cypress trees. Time lengthened and stilled as she met his gaze. Her grip tightened on the finger holds. The astonished look on his face vanished as his brows collided. The second he shifted to the balls of his feet, Nairobi reacted, finding another handhold, peddling her feet, climbing upward faster than was prudent, and . . .
Her toe slipped off metal.
One boot knocked into the next. Her right foot joined the left, dangling in the air as she swung sideways. With a cry, she dug in and held on hard, fighting to get her feet back under her. She heard heavy footfalls rush across the courtyard behind her. Fear roared through her, infusing her muscles with strength. Gritting her teeth, she found a foothold and clambered higher, eyes glued to the multi-headed spikes. Adam yelled, raising the alarm, shattering all hope of a clean getaway as he called for more guards and the keys to the gate.
“Nairobi . . .” More growl than word, her name swirled on the cold air. Adam slid to a stop below her. “For the love of God, woman . . . get down. You’ve nowhere to go.”
Untrue. She had a home. One that beckoned. A place unlike any other where she would be loved, accepted, and safe—just like before.
Heart pounding so hard her chest hurt, Nairobi grabbed the base of an iron thorn cluster. Feet planted against steel, dangling by a single handhold twelve feet from the ground, she lifted the leather strap over her head. With a huff, she tossed the satchel over. Leather groaned in protest before landing with a thud in the deserted laneway.
“I mean it, girl. Come down. Right now or I—”
“You’ll what?” Indignation surged. Determination picked up the gauntlet, accepting the challenge. So what. She’d been discovered. Adam didn’t have the keys. Not yet anyway. Which meant she still had a chance. Still possessed some time. Enough, mayhap, to save herself and stay true to her purpose. Adam—along with everyone else inside the silk house—could go to the devil. She would not lie down. Or crumble beneath the pressure. Her eyes narrowed, she grabbed a second handhold and heaved herself upright. Lifting one leg over the spikes, she planted her foot on the thin lip on the other side. Crouched like a cat atop the high gate, she looked down at the guard. “Take away my freedom? Punish me by locking me away? Too late for that, Adam. You’ve done that from the start.”
Surprise winged across his face. A moment later, his brows furrowed. He opened his mouth—no doubt to threaten her again.
She cut him off. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’ve no wish to cause you trouble, but I cannot stay. I am going home. I need to go home.”
“Your place is here.”
“You’re wrong,” she whispered, navigating the thorny barbs. “I never belonged here. My calling has always been much greater.”
The truth of it gave her added courage. Saying it aloud granted her power. Treating the guard to a defiant look, Nairobi slid her second foot over. Adam cursed. She kept climbing, descending the opposite side of the gate as he yelled again, demanding the keys. The rapid beat of footfalls scrambled the quiet, rushing toward her as the moon winked in the clear sky. Halfway down, she let go and jumped to the ground. Her boots slammed into the cobblestones, making her teeth rattle. Pain stung her temples. Ignoring the discomfort, she spun, grabbed the satchel strap, and slung it over her shoulder.
The guard snarled at her from behind the swirling ironwork.
“Fair thee well, Adam.”
“God’s grace, Nairobi,” he said, the threat of violence in this voice. “You will need it when I find you.”
More promise than threat, his words sent a chill down her spine.
Feet churning through the thin skin of snow, she ran for the end of the alleyway. Another of the guards shouted, organizing the others. Keys jingled, sound rising on a rapid gust of frosty air. Skidding into the next laneway, Nairobi sprinted for the mouth of another, making certain each footfall landed on a clear patch of cobblestone and stayed out of the snow. Leaving a trail for Adam amounted to a bad idea. The guard wasn’t stupid. He knew how to hunt women. Had proved it on more than one occasion when he returned an escapee to the less reputable section of the silk house—a place created for one purpose: a client’s comfort and pleasure.
Disgusting practice. Especially considering many in the harem didn’t want to be there.
Revulsion moved behind her breastbone. Goddess forgive her, she hated to leave all those women behind. Ought to be helping each one find a way out of hellish circumstances. A noble intention. A task in desperate need of doing. But not right now. Tonight belonged to her own freedom. Liberation would come for those inside Saul’s Silk Emporium, but first she must evade Adam and get out of Ismal. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to save anyone, least of all herself.