When they traveled to and from Kingswell, they did it the hard way. By sea or over the bumpy network of roads in a carriage.
She sucked in a breath, held it, then released it slowly, praying that her stomach would cooperate and that she wasn’t about to lose her last meal all over the lieutenant’s beautifully polished boots. The scenery held no familiar landmarks, just a vista of trees and hills and fields that could be almost any part of rural Anglion. “Where are we?”
Cameron looked around the small clearing they were in, then crossed to a portal marker on the far side. His hand tracked down the symbols carved in the rock. “If I got this right, then we’re outside a small village called Upper Tilbourne.”
That left Sophie none the wiser. Her head began to ache, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the portal or the thought of what lay behind them in the capital. She drew a steadying breath. Despite the sunshine, the air felt cooler than it had, which helped a little. As did the fact that the city smells were all gone, replaced by the cleaner scents of grass and damp earth and, somewhere in the distance, a faint hint of wood smoke. “Where is that exactly?”
Somehow it seemed important to know something about what was happening, even an insignificant fact like where she was.
“North of Kingswell.”
That wasn’t helpful. Most of Anglion was north of Kingswell. Only the Hellebride Peninsula lay below the capital. “How far north?”
The lieutenant looked around again, face grim. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Not far enough.”
He came back to Sophie, caught her shoulders, and peered at her. “Are you up to another transfer?”
Her stomach protested the thought. Strongly. She dug her fingernails into her palms, clenching her hands tightly, hoping the small pain would drive away the nausea. “Are you going to tell me what’s happening? Back in the store—”
“Later. Come, milady. There is little time to make sure we get away.”
Get away where? And who would be coming after her, anyway? She fought a rising urge to refuse to go any farther. But that would be foolish. The lieutenant was an experienced soldier, a royal bodyguard. The princess’s bodyguard. She should trust him.
Or should she? After all, she had no idea what had even happened. Or where he was taking her. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening.”
“There’s no time.”
Sophie took a step back. “Make time.”
The lieutenant stared down at her, jaw clenched. His hand started to lift from his side and then dropped again. “I am trying to get you to safety. Someone attacked the palace. You saw that.”
She had, and the memory of the flames and smoke shooting into the sky made her stomach tighten greasily. She swallowed. Hard. She’d seen the hole in the east tower. Eloisa’s apartments were in the eastern wing. “I did. So we should go back. People will need help.”
“I’m a royal guard,” he said. “If the palace is under attack, then my duty is to secure the royal family. Right now you’re the closest member of the royal family I can get to. So I’m taking you to safety.”
“How do I know you’re safe?”
He gave her a look that was almost approving. “Milady, if I were part of the plot, I probably would have killed you, turned you over to the attackers, or at least knocked you out so I could take you wherever I was supposed to take you by now.”
“Or you could just be telling me that.”
“Suspicious little thing, aren’t you? Good. Thinking is good. But right now we don’t have time to waste.” He pulled his pistol out of its holster. “Do you know how to shoot?”
She hadn’t fired a gun for a very long time, though her father had taught her. She knew the general theory of how a gun worked. “A little,” she said.
His mouth twisted, but he handed the gun over anyway. “That’s going to have to do for now. No time for a lesson right this minute, and we can’t risk drawing attention. Take that. If I try to kill you, try to shoot me first.”
It wasn’t the most reassuring speech she’d ever heard in her lifetime, but it was better than nothing. She took the gun and wrapped her fingers awkwardly around the carved wooden grip. It was shaped for a man’s hands, but it would have to do. “All right. Now tell me where you’re taking me.”
“Right now, away from here,” said the lieutenant. “I want distance between us and Kingswell until we know what is going on. And one transfer isn’t enough. Someone could trace where we’ve gone.”
Sophie bit her lip. Another reasonable explanation. And he was right. If someone was pursuing them—pursuing her, most likely, given who she was—then they could already be at Madame de Montesse’s shop. It was no secret that that was where she’d been bound this afternoon. Besides Eloisa’s ladies and guards, there must have been half a hundred people in the palace alone who had seen her leaving the grounds with the lieutenant.
If they found the portal at Madame’s store, they could find them. There were ways to cleanse a portal of the traces of its most recently used destination, but they couldn’t rely on the good Madame to have done so on her end.
Not that any of that changed the fact that she wanted to know where he was taking her. “Are you taking me home?”
“Home?” He stopped, frowning. “No. Why would I do that?”
“Because it would be sensible.”
“Milady, if someone is after the royal family, then an estate belonging to members of that family isn’t going to be terribly safe.”