“Gisbourne—”
“Please let one night pass where I don’t need to be furious with you.”
It weren’t my fault he had the temper of a bear. It weren’t my fault that he made me come here, made me stay in this god-awful place. None of it were my fault.
Still, I stayed quiet.
Chapter Thirteen
The morning dawned cold and clear, and my husband were up as early as me, dressing for the second day of the joust. Mary fussed over me to make me ready to walk beside the princess, and I ain’t never felt so foolish.
“Here,” Gisbourne said as I were done. He tossed a purse of coin my way and I snatched it. “The princess will expect you to spend.”
I peeked inside. “You won’t see any of this back, you know.”
His lip curled up like a dog. “So be it. You’ve already been stealing from me anyway, haven’t you?”
Tying the purse inside my skirts, I didn’t cop to it none.
“Marian,” he said.
“Fine, I nicked the coins,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You married a thief, you should hide things better.”
“Marian,” he said, and I looked up. “Impress her.”
I wanted to ask why, but I knew he were sweet on Isabel. Or I reckoned I knew—but that would be part and parcel with my husband having sweetness, or even a heart, which I weren’t sure were so.
“I’ll try to be less your wild wife,” I told him. He nodded like it were some solemn thing I promised, and then he left.
Mary heaped me with a furry cloak and fancy gloves and ladylike boots that were fair useless, little more than fur-lined fabric in the shape of a boot with nothing to make it sturdy or stalwart in any measure. If I were to so much as run to the gates, they’d be naught but a heap of fur-lined shreds.
But for walking slow and making pretty, they were just fine.
I were shown to the princess’s chambers and made to wait outside until she were ready, with the higher-ranking ladies flocked about her. When she emerged, the few others standing there dropped to curtsies, and it took me a breath to remember I were meant to do it too.
“Come along,” she said, and we all stood and followed her out.
It were a messy business, so many puffed-up ladies walking down a single hallway, but the overly layered parade made it to the courtyard intact. It seemed we were meant to follow along behind the princess in a half circle, which one lady—who hadn’t introduced herself to me—waved her hands and swatted at me to make sure I’d do.
My hands curled to fists—I left my damn knives in the chambers. Which were probably a blessing, considering what notions ran through my head just then.
“Lady Leaford,” Isabel called, not turning her head to me. She did crook a finger, though, and I took that as a summons. I stepped on the swatter’s foot as I went and stood beside Isabel.
“Your Highness,” I murmured.
“You shall be our guide,” she said. “Come. This is your city, is it not? I wish to see it.”
“It isn’t truly,” I denied, careful to say it straight.
“But you know it well. Don’t be difficult. Show me,” she said, meeting my eyes and still keeping her nose up. She weren’t hard to look at, that were sure. Her skin were pale and her eyes brown and dark lashed; she were a fair English rose.
My mouth went tight. “Yes, your Highness.”
We walked side by side down through the castle to the gate. I couldn’t help but watch her dress drag through the dirt and mud and snow. Course that happened to most common folk too, but they tried to avoid it. The princess’s dress were meant for it, and yet it might see a washing or two before the thing was cast aside. It were a miserable practice to flaunt to those that were oft born and buried in the same clothes.
The guards opened the gate, and like the skirt collecting dirt, two guards followed behind us as we went out.
I counted in my head. I were used to moving fast and quick—it didn’t help to be a still target when you were a thief—and these ladies were slower than changing seasons. I took a step and counted, then took another.
“So,” Isabel said to me, “you must tell me how you know Eleanor.”
My mouth opened to question it when I realized who she were thinking of. “Of Aquitaine? You mean the queen?”
“Queen Mother,” she corrected. “Yes, of course.”
I made a fair unladylike sound that one of the women jumped at. “I never met her before yesterday.” I shrugged. “Well, she near run me down in a carriage the day before.”
“My dear, you are not well skilled at such games. You see, I know there is something between you two. Eleanor of Aquitaine approves of no one and she’s publicly lauded you. Beyond that, she requested to sit next to you at the joust.”