TWENTY
Jane
Jane, as it happened, was fleeing for her life.
After escaping the city, they’d started in . . . some direction. Still in her ferret state, Jane clung to Gifford’s shoulder while he rode their stolen horse out of London as fast as they could go. Pet ran on ahead of them, leading the way. To where, Jane couldn’t tell.
It was away from Mary’s soldiers; that was all that mattered.
The roads would be the first place anyone would look, so they diverted into the forest. The hooves of their stolen steed beat the ground in a relentless tempo. Hounds bayed in the distance, making Pet lift her nose to the wind. It seemed their pursuers gained on them. Jane huddled in the curve of Gifford’s neck, terrified and exhausted, as they veered here and there, lost in the dark, dark night.
Gifford hunched lower over the horse. Jane scrambled to adjust her weight, but he scooped her up and held her against his chest. “I have a plan,” he said.
Wonderful. Jane loved plans.
He glanced down at her. “It’s a good plan. I think.”
Jane bit him—not hard—urging him to just get it out.
“Shortly, the sun will rise and I will begin my daily departure from my two-legged self to my four-legged self, and then we will be able to move more quickly. I’ll send my equine friend here off on another path to create a diversion. Meanwhile, you will remain in your ferrety form and I will carry you . . . somewhere safe.”
Jane cocked her head. It wasn’t a terrible plan (although it was a tad vague), but what about Horse Rule 3? (No riding the horse.)
Gifford shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking, dear, but now’s not the time for such rules. We need to be fast. You weigh next to nothing in this form. As long as we can find a way to secure you to me without the use of those magnificent claws, I’ll be able to run at top speed.”
That sounded good to Jane.
“Excellent,” said Gifford. “I’m glad we’re agreed.”
They careened down a narrow deer trail. The minutes stretched like hours. With the trees growing tall and ancient all around them, it was difficult to track the moon and stars. But eventually the woods lightened to a soft purple, and birds began to sing, and Jane felt herself breathe more easily. This terrible night was almost over, and she’d survived it. They were still being hunted down like dogs, sure. But things never seemed as bad in the light of day.
Gifford called to Pet and reined in the horse.
They were just slowing to a trot when Jane changed.
One instant, she was a ferret, cupped in Gifford’s hand and pressed against his chest. The next, she was engulfed in a blinding white light and then she was a girl, sitting sideways on the saddle with her legs hanging off one side, and she was most definitely naked.
Their stolen horse snorted and stopped, disgusted with the sudden weight of two people.
“Jane! This wasn’t part of the plan!” Gifford untied his cloak and threw it around her shoulders. “You didn’t bite me when I explained it, so I assumed we were in agreement.”
Jane scrambled off the saddle and landed in an undignified heap on the ground. She tried to get up, but her legs were wobbly after the sudden transformation.
Gifford dismounted and knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded.
There’d been so much she’d wanted to tell him before, when she’d been locked in the Tower, but now (possibly for the first time in her life) Jane felt tongue-tied.
Gifford looked like he wanted to say something, too. He took her hands in his, fingers grazing the rings of cuts and bruises on her wrists from the shackles, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her wrists hadn’t hurt so much as a ferret, though there’d been a shadow of pain. Now they felt like they were on fire.
“You’re wounded,” Gifford observed.
“It’s nothing.” She tried to smile at him. “So, I suppose I can’t control the change yet.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “What’s that, you say? You can’t control the change? How’s that possible, when you’ve read so very many books on E?ians?”
Her face felt hot. She sat up straighter. “Well, these are just less-than-ideal conditions. I will be able to perfect the change with a bit of practice, I’m sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. You should try. Change back, and we’ll go,” he said.
He was teasing her. She wasn’t sure if she liked it. She took a deep breath and concentrated on the idea of becoming a ferret again, because that was the plan, but nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing.
Gifford’s gaze dropped to her collarbone. Then the shape of her under the cloth. “Wait. Never mind. Stay just like that.”
Jane yanked the cloak more tightly around her and jumped to her feet. “Gifford Dudley! Eyes to yourself.”
He laughed and began taking off his boots. And then his socks. And then his belt.