The stairwell led back out in the alley and then a narrow street choked with people spilling away from the rally. The boy moved with them at first, head down, shoulders hunched, just another body carried by the current.
He didn't look back.
I felt the distance between us and Aris stretching apart. He wasn't listening to me the way he had earlier. He was thinking forward. Always forward. Straight toward Thorne.
We cut off into a side road, then another. The noise faded until the city felt hollow again, like it was holding its breath.
You shouldn't do this alone, I said.
"I know," he replied quietly. "But I am."
That was the end of the conversation. He wouldn't hear me out.
Several shops on the road had been shuttered as their owners had left for the rally.
Except for one.
He ducked inside the shop, which was open but empty. The shopkeeper must have left to see the rally as well and had forgotten to close up. He would be returning soon.
First, he searched for a sheath, all of which were hanging on a back wall. The boy grabbed the most bland one and continued on.
He was going to hide me. It made sense, but part of me hated the idea. I wanted all eyes to be one me. To see me in all of my glory. Instead, the boy was going to shove me inside a dirty sheath and plunge me into darkness.
The boy continued moving, snatching up a hooded cloak the color of ash, a pair of reinforced gloves, and a simple half-mask of tarnished leather that would cover the top of his face.
The boy put them all on and turned to me. "How do I look?"
"Like a child hiding beneath a pile of oversized trash."
The boy nodded. "Good enough for me. Now your turn."
He grabbed a roll of cloth and began wrapping my hilt.
"What the hell are you doing? My hilt needs to breathe. You can't–"
"Shut it," the boy snapped, tearing the cloth. "And now your sheath."
I recoiled. "Please no. I don't want it. I hate sheaths."
He forced my blade inside anyways.
"You bastard," I mumbled. Everything was dark now, but I could still sense everything going on around the boy. It was almost a type of sight itself. Maybe that was how the blind man, Cale, felt.
Just outside, I could hear footsteps approaching the shop.
The owner had returned.
"Boy!" I whispered frantically. "We have to go!"
"You'll be fine," the boy said, ignoring me. "I'll take you out in a few minutes, just as soon as we get outta here. But first…I need boots."
The boy stopped cold as the shopkeeper came back inside.
Their eyes locked.
"Hey! What're you doing here? We're not open yet!" The shopkeeper screamed. He paused for a moment, noticing what the boy was wearing. "You're stealing. I'll kill you, thieving bastard!"
Here we go again, I thought. Why couldn't this damned boy just listen to me for once? Things were always better when you listened to the immortal sword who had seen just about everything.
The shopkeeper dashed toward the boy, his hands outstretched as if to grab him.
The boy ducked beneath his hands and darted around him and out the front door.
"Get back here!" I heard the shopkeeper screaming. "Damn kids."
The boy took off back down the road, against the massive waves of people still leaving the rally.
"Where are you going now?" I asked.
"To sign up," the boy said, panting. "I'm getting in that duel."
If I had eyes, I'd be rolling them right now. There was a better way to do this. Playing into Thorne's hand was not that way. He would be looking for the boy. A little costume would not change that.
The boy pushed through the crowd until we reached a group of people lined up to sign the paper for the duel.
And at the head of the line, smiling with his perfect white teeth, was Thorne.
The boy's breath caught in his throat. "Shit."
"It's not too late to turn back," I said. "He hasn't seen you yet. But he will if you stay in line."
We watched as the person at the front of the line bowed to Thorne.
"Name?" He asked in that annoyingly elegant tone.
"Lyra," the woman said, bowing a second time.
Thorne nodded. "And your weapon?"
Lyra knelt and drew a scimitar.
Thorne handed her a quill. "Sign here. Any injuries sustained by a duelist cannot and will not be blamed on Thorne Manor."
Lyra took the quill. "Understood. I will do anything as long as it is to help the city. Thank you, my Lord."
She signed her name, and a guard escorted her away before she could speak to Thorne more.
Thorne looked up at the line. "Next."
The boy was getting frantic now. There were seven more people in front of them.
The next stated his name and showed Thorne his sword. Then, he signed his name.
This was the process the boy was gonna have to go through. And Thorne would notice him, and then notice me.
"Sword," the boy whispered. "When we go up there, he'll recognize me. I'm gonna kill him now. I will never get another opportunity like this. As soon as his head falls from his shoulders, we run."