Sons of Lyra: Runaway Hearts by Felicity Heaton Page B

her a look
that said he was just relating what he’d heard, and then walked
away, leaving his parents arguing about where the baby was going to
be born.

    It would keep them busy
for a while. Possibly long enough for him to put his plan into
action.

    The short walk back to his
apartment passed quicker than he’d expected. He locked the door and
went to his wardrobes. A rifle through them made it clear that he
had nothing to wear that wouldn’t make him stand out from the crowd
wherever he went. He needed clothing that was a little more common
looking if he was going to get off the planet unnoticed.

    None of the servants’
clothes would do. They were all too recognisable as
well.

    He took the purse of gold
Lynans he kept in his desk drawer and went back to the wardrobe. He
stripped off his jacket and his boots, swapping them for a pair of
worn riding boots and an old riding jacket. A glance at himself in
the mirror made him realise he was even more noticeable now. He
growled in frustration, removed the jacket, and went back to the
wardrobe. There was just nothing suitable.

    At the back of it, he
found a moth-eaten cloak that he’d had since forever. His parents
had insisted that he throw it away, but he’d always refused. He was
glad that he hadn’t now. He wrapped it around his shoulders and
went back to the mirror. It was better. The old brown cloak would
hide his crisp white shirt and tight black trousers. It went
perfectly with the scuffed boots. He looked at his face. He had to
do something about that. Everyone on Lyra Prime knew what he looked
like.

    He stared at himself, into
his almost jet-black eyes, and ran his fingers over his short black
hair. A hat? It was the quickest method of disguise that he could
think of. Unfortunately he didn’t own any hats.

    He was too clean as well.
The people using the public freighter transports were likely to
look more worn and dirty. He went to his balcony, stuck his hand
into the nearest plant pot and rubbed the dirt across his face and
neck and into his hands. A look in the full length mirror made him
smile. That was better, but he still could be
recognised.

    A quick ruffle of his hair
made him look less like himself. He smiled at his reflection. He
actually looked better than he had before. He liked this new hair
style. It was wild and rebellious. Exactly how he felt right
now.

    Deciding nothing else
could be done to disguise himself, he went to the balcony and
looked over the edge. He made the short drop to the larger balcony
below and ran to the steps that led down into the garden. In the
far corner, he found the gate he’d stolen the key to years ago but
had always been too afraid to use. He unlocked it and walked
through. A sense of freedom swept through him when he locked the
gate and then turned to face the wide open road that led down into
the city.

    He was sure there would be
a transport leaving tonight. He didn’t care which one he got on. He
looked at the star-filled sky. He just wanted to be up
there.

    Running down the road, he
kept the cloak closed around him to hide his finer clothes, and
tried to remember whereabouts in the city the port was. He stuck to
the winding side streets, avoiding the large square at the front of
the palace. There would be guards there and he wasn’t about to get
caught. For the first time in his life, he was going to see how
others lived and taste the freedom they did.

    He slowed to a walk when
the palace began to grow small and distant. His eyes scanned the
dark shop windows, running over the displayed goods in fascination.
He’d never thought the world would be so colourful and interesting.
The shops sold all manner of things, most of which he’d never seen.
There were tools in one, material in others, and flowers. He
stopped to look at them. He’d never seen such delicate and
beautiful blossoms before. They were splendid white irises spotted
with rich purple. His eyes fell to the card in front of them.
Apparently