He's not listening. He's fixated on his own golden feathers—as if they'd changed from when he cleaned them this morning. I'm going to have to repeat the plan. Although, thinking it over again, it probably was too complicated for a rescue mission. Simple is better.
"They will kill me if they catch me," I tell him.
"Who?!" He looks ready to kill at the thought of anyone harming me.
"The guards," I say. "It's always guards."
"Then I'll distract them!" He puffs his chest out. "When?"
"Look for a green flash before the sun sets. Then draw the guards away from the western walls while I run along the ramparts to the cells."
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"I put on a show the moment the sun sets," he says like it was his idea. "Where do we meet?"
"At the gate. I'll throw a golden blade into the sky. But you have to be there in ten breaths." I pull one of his feathers from his cloak. It's warm on my fingers. A memory floods back of me lying in his arms by the Aphae Waterfall. The sun filtering through the leaves, catching the edges of our feathers as they lay atop each other. That was a lovely day.
"I will be at the gate the moment you throw the blade," he swears.
I take his hand in mine and lean close. "I know."
That smug, confident grin cracks his face. I want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both.
"Now, darling—if I were you, I would stay behind the cover of the tree line, so you're not spotted."
Our embrace is so warm I wish it would last all night. But the sun is dangerously close to the horizon, and our esteemed consul isn't going to escape a dungeon guarded by a horde of shadow acolytes on his own.
Rakan tells me to be careful as he wanders away, looking at the sky. Every time he leaves, my heart sinks. I'm sure it won't be the last time I see him. Although, one day, it might.
"Remember, my heartfire," I whisper after him. "Sunset."
I dart in between the fortress' parapets unseen. Years of avoiding the stares of humans taught me their many blind spots.
Six acolytes guard the gate leading to the dungeons. They carry double-firing crossbows, swords tucked in their belts, and who-knows-what-else in the pouches fastened around their waists. I slink along the inner wall behind them to get within striking distance. I pluck five of my feathers and stack them neatly in my palm, holding them in place between my index finger and thumb, ready to send them flying.
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