The Princess Spy

She whispered, “Perhaps you blame yourself to keep from feeling the grief.”

 

 

He wasn’t sure what he thought about that statement. “I was impulsive and overconfident. I thought I could capture a murderer, with only one other person to help me, which also makes me arrogant and careless.” Why was he trying so hard to convince her he was a bad person?

 

“I don’t see you as any of those things.” Her voice was calm and quiet. “I see you as courageous and caring, noble and generous.”

 

They sat in silence, listening to the rain drip off the thatched roof and the trees outside, the horses snuffling occasionally in their stalls or munching on hay.

 

He knew he shouldn’t say what he was about to say, but . . . “And I see you as intelligent, kind, brave, and beautiful.”

 

“I talk too much.” Her voice was soft but vibrant. “And I’m a flibbertigibbet.”

 

He also knew he shouldn’t do what he was about to do, but . . . he raised his hand to her chin and lifted her face until he could gaze into her eyes. Her lips looked soft and inviting, but he did not have the right to kiss her, as he was not betrothed to her and had no hope of being so.

 

He let go of her chin and closed his eyes.

 

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, turning so her forehead was nestled against his neck.

 

“I told you before,” he said. “I like hearing you talk. And I was wrong. You are not a flibbertigibbet.”

 

“So you think I am a good spy?”

 

He smiled as he adjusted his arms around her. “You are a very good spy.”

 

 

 

Margaretha awoke feeling warm and comfortable. What was so heavy against her legs? She opened her eyes. Toby lay in her lap and Colin’s arm was around her, and she remembered. Guilt pricked her at how good it felt to be surrounded by his arms, his warm chest behind her. The sound of his steady breathing next to her ear sent a tingling sensation across her shoulders.

 

Colin shifted slightly. His breathing changed and became less heavy; he was awake.

 

“Am I hurting you?” she whispered.

 

“No. But I should get up. It sounds like the rain stopped.” He started sliding away from her.

 

Margaretha leaned forward and tried not to wake Toby, but he sat up and rubbed his eyes. They all got up and peeked out the door. It had not stopped raining entirely, but it was more of a mist falling from the sky.

 

“I’ll go check the snares.”

 

“We’ll come with you.” She should probably leave Toby behind, but she had a feeling he would not allow himself to be left.

 

Margaretha and Toby followed Colin outside, holding the blanket over their heads. Toby seemed to think it was a game and smiled as they darted around the trees and almost lost Colin a few times.

 

Colin’s snares ended up containing three plump hares, one in the noose of each snare. They followed Colin to the rock outcropping, which sheltered them, somewhat, from the heavy mist that clung to their eyelashes.

 

Colin skinned the hares, which made Margaretha avert her eyes and Toby gasp in delight at his skill. He had found a pile of dry wood that had been covered with an oiled tarp underneath the rock outcropping, and he used it to build a small fire. He also made a crude spit from sticks, and he roasted the hares over the fire. They smelled so good, Margaretha’s stomach competed with Toby’s to see whose could growl louder, making them both giggle.

 

When it was done, Colin presented the meat to them on “platters” of wet leaves.

 

Switching to English, Margaretha asked, “Where did you learn such important skills as catching and skinning hares?”

 

“I was a boy like most others, roaming over the English countryside looking for adventure. But John taught me about snares and cooking game.” A flicker of pain crossed his face as he looked down.

 

No wonder he displayed so much passion to bring Claybrook to justice. In his grief, he was angry. Her mother had once told her, “When women are sad, they cry, but when men are sad, they get angry.”

 

He handed Toby a piece of cooled meat.

 

For all she knew, Claybrook may have killed her family members. But somehow, she just couldn’t imagine that happening. Her faith in her father — and her brother Valten as well — was too great to think they might have allowed a peacock like Claybrook to defeat them. And once they were able to reach Marienberg and her cousin, Duke Theodemar, brought his fighting men, Claybrook would finally receive the punishment he deserved.

 

The three of them finished the first hare in no time. Never had anything tasted so good, and she enjoyed watching Toby eat so eagerly, even smiling up at her while he chewed.

 

Surely it would be wrong not to take him with them. He might be in danger on the road with them, but he was also in danger if they left him here to be mistreated by his master.

 

They ate most of the second one and wrapped the rest in the hemp bag they had taken from the stable.

 

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