“I know,” said Darnessa. “But I wanted to get her off his hands. It’s better to let her marry too young than wed her to such a man as he gave her sister to.”
“She told me about it the night of the banquet at Underwood. She cried herself sick.” Sage grimaced with guilt. “I let Gramwell walk her through the garden, which is when this all started, though honestly it wasn’t my intention. He was just strong and kind right when she needed it.”
Darnessa knew as well as she did that Gramwell had to wait three more years to marry. She made a thoughtful sound. “Maybe we can find something wrong with her that will make her less desirable, and she can ‘settle’ for Gramwell. Remind me: Where is his family from?”
“Up north.” Sage pulled her ledger closer and flipped to the page on Gramwell. “His father was ambassador to Reyan, but just retired to Key Loreda, where he’s from.”
The matchmaker brightened. “An ambassador’s son! That works in his favor, and Key Loreda has a tradition where a bride lives with her future in-laws for a year before marriage. The couple is bound as if they were wed, but it’s considered a mother-in-law’s duty to train her son’s wife.”
Sage made a face. “Sounds awful.”
“Not if your mother-in-law likes you, and Clare’s a sweet thing. I can’t imagine her not meeting any reasonable woman’s approval. We’ll see what we can do for her.” Darnessa scanned the other pages on the officers and paused. “You don’t think very highly of young Captain Quinn. Did he snub you somehow?”
“I’ve never spoken to him,” Sage admitted. “I’ve just seen what he demands of others.”
“A commander’s job is to be demanding.”
“Yet I never see him get his hands dirty,” Sage protested. “I have more respect for someone if they don’t make everyone else do everything for them.”
The matchmaker shrugged and tapped the opposite page for Ash Carter. “Ironic you have so little on a man you’ve spent so much time with.”
“I know him, so I’m less likely to forget.” Sage took the book back. “Meanwhile, there are others to detail.”
“I see you also discovered who he is.”
Sage glanced up with a scowl. “You could’ve saved me some embarrassment by telling me.”
Darnessa chuckled a little. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to taint your investigation.”
“Hmph.” Sage went back to her book. She wanted to finish her diagram.
“We could try matching him at the Concordium.”
“I’ll ask him,” Sage said, trying to sound indifferent. She had no such intention. “I don’t think he’s interested, though. Too busy soldiering.”
“If you say so.” Darnessa stood to leave.
“Oh, by the way,” called Sage. The matchmaker paused to look back. “Don’t ask me for details, but don’t drink any of the water after tonight. It may not be safe unless it’s boiled. Tell the maids and ladies as best you see fit.”
Darnessa only nodded, making Sage suspect Quinn was sharing things with the matchmaker that he refused to let Ash tell her.
Once satisfied with her summary of the cistern and other relevant information, Sage folded the two pages, tucked them under her bodice, and went to lunch. Servants were preparing the Great Hall for that evening’s banquet, so a casual noon meal was set up on long tables in the garden next to the hall, but no soldiers were present.
Her information was critical, and she expected someone to check on her soon. The garden seemed a logical spot to find her, so she filled a plate and picked a bench under a tree to eat and wait. But as time passed, she wondered if maybe the library would be better. Sage was just about to give up when she spotted Charlie collecting dishes from other ladies. She gave him a genuine smile as he approached. “Hello, Little Soldier.”
The page’s grin melted her. He was such a sweet, eager boy—nothing like his proud brother.
“My lady, I can take your dish for you.” Catching his meaning, she nodded and slipped her papers from their hiding place and tucked them under her plate before handing it to him.
She watched Charlie head back to the kitchen, wondering if the boy knew he likely held the fate of the nation between two dirty plates.
47
“THOUGHTS?” QUINN ASKED.
Casseck studied the diagram of the cistern. “Her drawings are better than Ash’s.”
“I won’t tell him you said that.”
“Who’s going to the banquet, you or me?” asked Robert.
“Me,” said Quinn. “I’ll make a brief appearance so D’Amiran sees me.”
Rob brightened. “Does that mean I get to take Charlie to the cistern?”
Quinn shook his head. “No. He’s my brother and my responsibility. You’re lying low from here on out. And you’re back to being Lieutenant Ryan Bathgate if anyone asks, but I’d rather no one ask. If we smuggle you out or hide you later, it’ll be easier if you were a ghost in the first place.”
Robert sighed dramatically. “It was nice while it lasted. Maybe I’ll buck for promotion after all.”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “You have a long way to go. Questions?” He glanced around again. “Very well. Go shine up for dinner.”
*
Charlie crept through the dark hallway with his brother beside him. At the first sign of anyone, he was prepared to act like a page leading his drunken master to bed, but the passage was deserted. All the servants must be at the feast.
They found a rectangular wooden hatch right where Lady Sagerra’s notes had described. The captain lifted the lid and pulled the rope up, counting the distance. Five feet to the basket. He pulled it out, set it aside, and glanced down at him. “We’ll try feetfirst. I think there should be enough room for you to move around.”
Charlie peered into the blackness. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, but this wasn’t just night—there would be no moon and stars to see by. His brother had said boys climbed down to clean it, so it must be safe. And Alex—his captain—needed him. This was something only he could do.
Before his courage could fail him, Charlie settled himself on the edge of the hole and looked back up, patting the bottles tucked in his vest. He raised his hands and whispered, “Ready.”
Alex gripped his arms and lowered him down. Then the cover was replaced, and the smell of damp and stone wrapped around Charlie like a blanket.