Even in the midst of all this pressure pushing down on them, magnifying every sound and deepening every shadow, he can't help but be impressed by the way she moves, the confidence in every step. She really does know this place like the back of her hand; she knows how to move silently, quickly.

If he weren't here, he imagines she'd be at the stables already.

They hesitate at the bottom of a flight of stairs, pressed close against the wall, cold seeping through his clothing from the stone, and he waits, watching her, eyes flicking back and forth between her and the hall they're paused at.