CASS HAD STARLING at the far end of the hall. Her hair looked reddish, so for a few seconds Quinn wasn’t sure it was her, but then she tilted her head to the side as she did when she was thinking, and he knew it. He made his way through the throng that surrounded the duke.
“Your Grace,” the captain said with a bow. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet with you last night when we arrived. We were so behind schedule, I had to catch up on critical business.”
D’Amiran acknowledged him with a regal nod. “It was no matter, Captain; your officers took care of everything.” He paused and looked Quinn up and down. “So you are Pendleton Quinn’s son.”
“I am, Your Grace.” It didn’t escape Quinn’s notice that the duke had omitted his father’s rank. As young men, both the duke and his brother had entered military service but washed out before either achieved captain. According to his father, Morrow D’Amiran had potential, but had relied too much on his own father’s reputation. It was a lesson Quinn had taken to heart at a young age.
Light-blue eyes continued to study him. “Armand, is it? You don’t look much like him.”
“Alexander, Your Grace. My father’s middle name.”
The duke sniffed.
Either D’Amiran was trying to get under his skin, or he didn’t remember what the general looked like. Quinn was almost a copy of his father, but with his eastern mother’s darker coloring. “I actually find that advantageous, Your Grace.”
“Indeed.” The duke selected a flaky biscuit from the tray a servant offered him. “Will you be taking advantage of this assignment to visit your uncle, the king?”
At first Quinn thought it was a hint that D’Amiran knew his father had sent him to spy on him, but on reflection it seemed innocent small talk. “Of course, Your Grace. May I give him your regards, or will you be traveling with us to the Concordium?”
Too many teeth were revealed by the duke’s smile for it to be natural. “I would be pleased if you would carry my regards to both him and your father.”
In the form of my head in a basket? Quinn knew the look of a man who hated another, and he was only third on this man’s list, behind his father and the king. His eyes darted to Casseck and Sage. Her back was to them. He waved a hand around to indicate the room as he again addressed D’Amiran. “Your Grace puts on a magnificent display. I believe this rivals anything I’ve seen at the palace.”
“Yes, and you would know, having spent so much time there.”
People were always jealous of his position, but Quinn wearied of it. Only Robert and Ash had it worse. He suppressed a smile. Third place again.
The duke continued, “I trust the accommodations meet the standards you’re used to?”
“More than acceptable, Your Grace,” he answered. “I thank you for your hospitality.”
D’Amiran looked annoyed that his small digs never yielded a response. “Yes, well, I’m sure you have duties to attend to.”
Once again, rather than act insulted, Quinn simply smiled and bowed at the dismissal. With a last glance at Casseck and Sage, he slipped out the main doors and headed back to the barracks.
50
SAGE ROSE BEFORE dawn and put on a plain wool dress, lacing the bodice swiftly in the dark. Then she combed darkening syrup through her hair before braiding and coiling it behind her head and covering it with a hood. A glance in her hand mirror showed the reflection of a simple maid rather than the grand lady everyone had seen the night before. Grabbing a bundle of soiled clothing, she let herself out of the room.
No one gave her a second glance as she headed to the laundry. Few stirred as it was—everyone was recovering from last night. Sage dropped her bundle in the empty washroom with other clothing belonging to their group and began looking for more places to explore, thinking to start in the kitchens. The cistern had its own outlet into the laundry, which inspired her to fill an empty pitcher from a shelfful of them. There was no time like the present to start spreading the contamination.
In the kitchen she found several baskets of bread and cheese set out on a central table. A hungover cook barely glanced up before gesturing for her to take one. “It’s about time you girls started showing up. Go out to the main gate first. The guards are hungry, so be quick.”
He assumed she was an errand girl. Perfect. Sage grinned to herself and grabbed a basket and a metal cup in addition to her pitcher and set off for the north side of the fortress. Balancing her burdens carefully, Sage passed through the inner gate and the outer ward and climbed the stone steps nearest the gatehouse. Two sleepy guards perked up as she walked in the door.
“Hello, love,” one called from where he lounged in a rickety wooden chair. “You’re a sight. Come give us a little wake-up?”
In that moment, Sage realized she was woefully unprepared to deal with the advances these men might make on a common maid. She nervously set the basket down and poured water into the cup. When she offered it to the guard who’d spoken, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto his lap. Sage yelped as he squeezed her rear end and whispered in her ear, “You got me woke, love. How’s about you stay awhile an’ keep me company? Hix here ain’t much fun, but you looks lots of fun.” His week-old stubble pressed against her cheek, and he gave her a sloppy kiss that reeked of sour wine.
Sage shrieked and shoved herself off of him, and he laughed before drinking the water. A wet trail dribbled down his chin and onto his blue uniform, joining several dark stains that looked like wine—or blood. He held the cup out to her and winked. She stared at it, unwilling to get closer, though a part of her wanted to give him more of the contaminated water, until he pulled the cup back and wiggled it. “Com’n get it, love.”
The other guard, Hix, stepped forward and smacked him lightly across the back of the head. “Knock it off, Barley. She’s got rounds to do.” He took the cup and held it out for his drink. She poured his water ration with shaking hands and waited for him to finish it. He handed back the cup and grabbed two rolls from the basket, tossing one to his leering friend.
“Gimme a cheese, will ya?” Barley said, and the guard flipped a chunk at him. He struggled to catch it, cursing as it bounced out of his hands. Tipping his chair back, he snatched it off the stone floor and took a bite as he watched Sage retreat. “I’ll look for you later,” he called as she closed the door behind her.
Sage set down the basket and pitcher so she could straighten her clothes and wipe her face on her sleeve, feeling foolish for thinking it would be easy to just wander around like a servant. Some spy she was.