Waterborne (Wanderlust 3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

The guards didn't need to understand Ara's words, his tone was enough.

Soren stood in a nearby alley, hidden in dark shadows, watching the exchange and hating every moment of it. Ara lay a hand on one of the guard's forearms, speaking in soft, flirty tones. But his words were Navirian, and they were meant for Kurias to hear, just a few cells down the hallway. The guards wouldn't know that. Ara was giving them the very best of his expensive courtesan training—the smile, the way his hand slide down the guard's arm to toy with his fingers, tugging them gently away from the hilt of his sword.

The guards were soaking it all in, grinning and making comments to each other in Alvarian. Soren had to close his eyes when one of the men reached out to tug on one of Ara's braids. He knew Ara could handle himself, but the urge to burst around the corner and protect him was hard to ignore.

He opened his eyes again when he heard more movement. Peeking around the corner, he saw Ara slip closer to one of the men. Even though it was dark, he watched Ara's hand slide along the guard's belt. The guard, grin turning into more of a leer, placed his arm around Ara's back and tugged him closer. He didn't notice when Ara's wandering hand found the ring of keys dangling from his belt. He didn't notice when Ara unhooked it, and with careful timing, tossed the ring of keys to the side just as the second guard gave the first a shove and tried to pull Ara away.

Neither men knew what Ara was saying, when he pulled free from the guards and took a few steps back. Neither did Soren. But despite his words, there was an edge of invitation in his voice. The guards couldn't resist when he waved them forward. They gave each other perplexed but pleased glances, then stepped forward together. Ara reached for a hand from each man, then, with that practiced courtesan smile, led them around the corner.

For a moment, Soren wanted nothing more than to chase after them. His hand squeezed tightly around his knife. He let himself picture it, then shook his head and hurried towards the entrance. His heart hammered in his chest as he scooped up the discarded keys and flipped through them to find one that would fit in the door.

He wasn't made for this. Subterfuge chafed against his morals. But this was a worthy departure, even if he was nearly shaking with nerves. It didn't help that, from time to time, he could hear Ara and the guards. The only thing that did help were the dark clouds that drifted over the moon. At least it was dark.

Finally, he picked out the right key and unlocked the door. He opened it just wide enough to slip through, nervous about the hinges creaking or the door scraping against the paving stones, about the men hearing and coming back. He could fight them, but not quietly, and he couldn't risk bringing more guards to the scene. Nervously, he slipped his hand into his pocket to feel the small wooden bear—he hadn't been able to resist bringing it along, for protection.

Soren could hear the men whispering just ahead, but it wasn't until he was standing in front of Roan's cell that any of the men noticed him.

Roan grabbed the bars with his left hand and watched as Soren flipped through the keys. "Give me a fright, poppin' outta the dark like that, mate."

"pologies, mate," Soren muttered. He tried key after key, and in an attempt to keep down his growing worry that he might not even have the right key, made a joke. "Reckoned that announcin' myself t' the guards wouldn't be the best course o' action, aye?" The fifth key slid into the lock, and clicked when he turned it.

"Good lad," Roan said, giving his cell door a careful push. It swung open, not silently, but more quietly than Soren expected. He stepped out and clapped Soren on the shoulder, but instead of moving away his hand lingered, and pulled Soren into a brief hug.

"How's the arm?" Soren asked, stepping back.

Roan shrugged his left shoulder. "Reckon it'll be fine with a bit o' rest'n relaxation."