He took off at a jog in that direction. He was halfway there when he encountered a guard coming the other way. There was nowhere for him to hide, so he threw his sword at the man, striking him in the chest. Blackmane caught him before he hit the ground, attempting to keep the floor clean, and dragged him to the side. He tugged the weapon free and wiped it on the guard’s trousers before jogging away, continuing to the end of the corridor and peering around the corner. And who should he find outside Hodge’s bedchamber door other than Morris himself. That was problematic, as he had promised to let the man live. He stepped out into the open, and Morris whipped his head in Blackmane’s direction.

‘How did you…? You know what? Never mind.’ He nervously glanced both ways down the corridor. ‘Surely you know I can’t let you inside this room. If you don’t kill me, then His Lordship will.’

‘Not if it looks like you put up a good fight.’ Blackmane stepped up to him fast, slicing open Morris’s arm before the man even had a chance to draw his sword.

‘Shit,’ Morris grunted.

‘It’s just a surface wound,’ Blackmane said, ‘but you’re going to want to apply pressure.’ He tried the door handle, but it was locked.

‘You cut me.’

Blackmane searched the bleeding guard for keys. ‘I saved you. You should be thanking me.’ He found the keys in a trouser pocket. ‘Thanks,’ he said before going to unlock the door.

‘You’ll never make it out,’ Morris said. ‘His Lordship is probably on his way. This corridor will be swarming with guards in a moment.’

Blackmane knew that. ‘Don’t you have a wound to tend to?’ He pushed the door open and looked around the oversized room. Isabel stood against the far wall, staring at him with a look of pure disbelief.

‘You know how this goes,’ he said, stepping inside. ‘I need you to do exactly as I say.’

She nodded. ‘All right.’

He tucked the knife into his belt and extended one bloodied hand in her direction. She ran to him, but instead of taking his hand, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, ‘He is going to kill you.’

Blackmane breathed in her floral scent. ‘Only if he gets the chance.’

As if on cue, he heard footsteps coming at a run—lots of them.

Isabel stepped back from him, and he turned to lock the door. ‘Gather all the linen and garments you can find,’ he instructed.

She ran straight to the bed, tearing the covers from it. While she was doing that, Blackmane jammed a chair beneath the doorhandle, then got to work knotting all the linen together.

‘Are we going out the window?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’