What Happens in Vegas

“Shouldn’t we stick with the others?” she said. “Everyone’s going outside.”

“Yes, and that’s where they’ll be,” I countered. “Waiting for us to exit. Picking apart every person or couple who walks through that gate.”

The answer seemed good enough for her. At least for now.

It was almost surreal, that we’d encounter her tonight of all nights. That she’d have picked the exact same event we did, to finally make her move.

And yet when I thought about it, it wasn’t really that surprising at all. The palace was the perfect place for an ambush: low visibility, high probability of target. And Kyrkos was supposed to be here. There was every indication he would be here…

And still we’d missed him.

“This is the third staircase we’ve taken below the main level,” she started up again. “Are you taking us to hide or something?”

“No.”

“Then what—”

“This place was built twice,” I said, pulling her along. “The second time, over a set of seven-hundred year old ruins.”

The air was getting colder and danker now. We were reaching older tunnels that were almost completely dark.

“It’s also built on a hill,” I said. “Because originally… ah, there it is.”

The door was ancient oak, from a tree a thousand and a half years dead. It was heavy and thick. Banded with iron.

And it was also propped open, exactly as Randall said it would be.

We pushed through, and the waterfront of the city lay spread out before us. Beyond that, the Aegean Sea… its surging whitecaps sparkling like jewels in the moonlight.

I let go of her hand. It was a little crazy, but almost immediately, I missed the comfort of her touch.

“Can you run?”

There were voices above us. Everyone from the party, being forced to exit from a choke-point between the castle’s two main turrets.

“Faster than you.”

I whipped my head to look at her. She wasn’t even out of breath.

“Division one Track and Field,” she boasted. “Eight-hundred meters. Fifteen hundred meters…”

Her lips were plump and full… and wet too, like she’d just licked them. Suddenly I wanted to kiss them again. Shit, I wanted to go on kissing her forever.

“Four-hundred meter hurdles,” she went on. “Long jump, triple jump…”

“Alright, alright,” I laughed out loud. “I love it.”

The voices grew louder, probably because the crowd was getting bigger. But I could hear others now too. Sharper voices, barking orders.

“I’ll say when,” I said.

“Say where too,” she replied. “I don’t want to have to wait up for you.”

She was cocky, I’d give her that. Especially for someone who’d just botched an assassination. The idea that she’d tried to pull it off all by herself was still unbelievable to me.

“See the wharf?”

I pointed. She nodded.