Their exit of the embassy was much more subtle than the entry. After mounting their horse, they slipped around the back of the stables before weaving through the half-timbered stucco and stone houses. Above her, the wind whipped the clouds into a frothy foam. Around her, a cool breeze rustled women’s skirts and swung the signs hanging above the stores.
A young boy tossed open a pair of wooden shutters above them and whipped a rug against the side of the house, showering them in grains of dirt. With his free hand, Elon tugged the reins to guide the horse to the side, his other arm wrapped around Carissa’s waist. To the common observer, they appeared as a peasant couple out for a ride.
By the time the horse halted at the back of a building, her heart knocked against her chest so hard her whole body shook with its beating. She held her breath for as long as she could before releasing it in a harsh gust.
Elon’s fingers grazed the goose bumps prickling her arms. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?”
She jerked and shot him a questioning glance. Brave? She’d expected him to ask if she needed a moment of rest or comment on her trembling.
He dismounted. To her surprise, she missed his warm, solid presence at her back. When his hands cupped the curves at her waist, she didn’t even startle. He set her on the ground, and she cringed as the gravel clattered beneath her boots. Would Akasha hear?
Carissa tipped her head back to stare at the building. With its crisply hewn stonewalls and orange tiled roof, it was nicer than most. Chimneys jutted out of its four corners like palace spires. A few of the diamond-paned windows were illuminated from within, while others were dark or colored brown with the fabric of curtains. Which did Akasha hide behind?
Elon bent closer, and though his breath warmed her ear, his whisper chilled her heart. “Are you ready?”