Shouts and screams echoed across the grounds almost immediately. Every guard in the palace, Gyre guessed, was heading to the scene of what could only be some kind of assault on the grounds. Perfect.

“They’re staying put,” Kit said. “Smart. On three. One. Two.”

Gyre snatched up his crossbow and stepped out from behind the hedge as Kit mouthed, “Three.” He spotted the four Auxies standing in front of the red-painted double doors, shifting nervously. Their sergeant was an older woman, weather-beaten and tough-looking, and he sighted on her and pulled the trigger as her mouth opened to form a shout. Gyre wasn’t an expert shot, but the range was short. The bolt caught her high in the chest, punching through the cheap steel of her breastplate and knocking her off her feet.

Kit had a thin blade in each hand and sent one whipping in a fast arc at the Auxie on the right. It sank into his throat, and he dropped his spear and clutched the wound, staggering backward. The man next to him threw himself to the ground, and Kit’s second knife passed just over his head, burying itself in the storehouse door.

She was already halfway across the distance between them, saber drawn. The Auxie still on his feet gave a hoarse cry, lowering his spear to spit Kit as though she were a charging warbird. She slipped lithely aside, dodging the point, and was on him before he could drop the long weapon and draw his sword. Her saber found his throat, and blood fountained spectacularly.

The man who’d ducked Kit’s second knife was pushing himself back to his feet when Gyre’s reloaded crossbow twanged again, the bolt catching him in the side. He rolled over, clutching at the wound, until Kit came up behind him and slashed his throat.

“Nicely done,” she said to Gyre as she bent to finish the badly wounded sergeant. The woman shuddered and stilled. “Didn’t even have to draw your pretty new sword.”

“I’m hoping to save that until I need it,” Gyre said. Not least, he had to admit to himself, because he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to fight with Naumoriel’s gift. “The door going to be a problem?”

Kit glanced at it and scoffed. “Give me … sixteen seconds.” She sheathed her bloodied saber and drew a set of lockpicks from a pouch, bending down to reach under the heavy iron padlock. A moment later, it popped open with a clack, and she grinned back at him. “Well? Did I make it?”

“Was I actually supposed to keep count?”

“Of course!” Kit looked offended. “You’ll never improve if you don’t take every opportunity to challenge yourself.” She hauled on the door, which swung outward a bit, then stopped. Kit frowned, then kicked one of the dead Auxies out of the way.