Making sure the door shut securely behind him, Etta headed back the way she’d come with Simon on her heels. There’d be no secret tunnel for her escape. She’d have to flee through the streets of the outer castle.
“When I tell you to,” she began. “I’m going to need you to open the gate enough for me to slip through.”
“This is suicide, Etta,” he growled. “Think of Alexandre.”
“I think of little else. If I’m going to save him, I need to do this.”
Verité lifted his head when she stepped into the courtyard and Simon grunted.
“This is about the blasted horse, isn’t it?”
She ran a hand down Verité’s neck. “He isn’t just a horse. He’s a part of me and if I’m going to go up against La Dame, I need to be whole.”
She climbed onto the saddle and nudged him around. Jerking her head toward the gat
