“Just checking again for a key,” Olivia protested archly. “I wasn’t going to steal anything, they’re just lads.”

Isobelle hid a smile and beckoned for Olivia to follow her back down the corridor.

When they returned, Gwen was instructing the women on the other side of the gate. “If we can lift it enough, we’ll raise it off the pegs that form the hinges.”

Isobelle and Olivia took their places on the outside, Isobelle’s fingers pressed up against the hand of one of the women holding the inside of the door. Her knuckles were swollen, and her skin was dreadfully cold.

Isobelle squeezed the cold hand, then tightened her hold on the iron bar and lifted with everything she had, straining to drag the door up from the ground, a pain shooting through her jaw as she clenched it harder than she’d known she could.

The door lifted off its hinges, giving way, threatening to swing by its new hinge—the lock on the other side of the door—into the cell, pinning the women who were trying to brace it without the help of the hinges. Isobelle kept tight hold of it, throwing her weight backward with the effort, but all she could do was slow its fall.

Then Gwen was there, stepping around her to take hold of it beside her, and with a groan of effort, dragging it back toward them once more. And for all Isobelle had understood how hard it must be to move in armor, to lift a lance, to stay in the saddle, she hadn’t realized until this moment just how strong Gwen was.

The gate made a horrible screeching sound as they dragged it out of the way, but there was nothing to be done about that. Half a dozen women quickly made their way out, one of them supported between two others, her feet dragging as she stumbled, trying to keep herself from going down altogether.

“Let’s get it back in place,” Gwen hissed shortly. “Let them think they just walked out of a locked cell. They’ll call it fae or witches and won’t go looking for conveniently disguised blacksmith’s daughters.”

Isobelle caught her breath in a laugh and nodded to the other women, a few of whom joined the efforts to drag the screeching door back onto the open peg hinges, until there was very little sign they’d ever been there at all.

“This way. I know a place where you’ll be safe, at least for now.” Olivia hurried up the hallway, and the women followed without question—there was an air of competence about Olivia that commanded it, and it was a quality Isobelle was determined to master herself one day. She and Gwen brought up the rear, and Gwen reached out to squeeze her hand again.

I can’t believe we’ve done it.