In the morning twilight made longer by the eastern peaks, she saw several guards in blue and white posted at intervals along the wall, the nearest of which looked at her expectantly. Sage took a deep breath as she gathered her things and reminded herself she was safer out in the open.
The next encounters went smoothly, and she progressed along the north wall. None of the guards made further advances, though one on the northeast tower eyed her long enough to make her blush. She stared at the mountains to avoid his gaze, watching a hawk fly up from the south and circle over a spot near the pass.
On the eastern wall, midway between guards, she passed a man sitting against the curve of a small, unmanned tower. “Spare a bit of bread, miss?” he asked quietly.
She stopped in her tracks, sloshing the water in the pitcher. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.
Ash squinted up at her and scowled. His dark hair stood out at odd angles from where he’d leaned against the wall. “I could ask you the same thing.” He stood and moved closer to take a roll. “Because I know this isn’t something anyone told you to do.”
“It’s called taking the initiative.”
“No, it’s called putting yourself in danger needlessly.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said, trying to forget the man in the gatehouse.
“No, you can’t. Go back to bed.” His voice had the air of a command.
“Not until I finish taking the rest of this around.” Sage switched the basket to her other arm and brushed him aside. “It’ll look suspicious if I stop now,” she said over her shoulder.
“Dammit, Sage, this is not a game!” he growled to her back.
Fuming, she continued down the east and south sides, making it around to the circular tower at the southwest corner before she ran out of cheese and bread. There was still some water in the pitcher, so she decided to climb up the tower to the last guards before returning to the kitchen. The encounter in the gatehouse rattled her more than she’d ever admit. Part of her wanted to quit and go back to bed, but she certainly wouldn’t after Ash ordered her to. She was hitching her skirt to mount the steps to the open trapdoor when she heard the men above talking.
“I’m tellin’ you, sir, it was ’im,” one was saying. “I seen ’im before, last time we escorted ’is Grace to th’ capital.”
“He doesn’t look like the king, though,” another replied. Sage froze. They had to be talking about Ash.
“’Is mother was onna them easterners—they got black hair an’ dark skin. I’m tellin’ you it was ’im, an’ ’is Grace would want to know, sir.”
Sage backed away to where she wouldn’t be seen if they looked down. An authoritative third voice asked, “Have you told anyone?”
The first soldier replied, “No, sir. I couldn’t place ’is face till I thought on it, and yer th’ first I told.”
“Then keep your mouth shut,” came the harsh response. “His Grace already knows, and if you ruin his plans by running your mouth, you’ll wish your execution was quick.”
Sage didn’t wait to hear any more and fled, thankful she wore her soft leather boots, which were silent on the stone steps. They knew who Ash was, and they were planning to take him. She had to warn him—now.
She dashed down the stairs all the way to the bottom, afraid the guards would notice her if she went back out on the wall. Now on the ground level, she forced herself to walk around the outer ward to the base of the small tower where Ash sat on the wall above. She picked up a stone and threw it against the structure. She missed and tried again until she succeeded in getting one right where she wanted. Ash’s dark head leaned over the edge to look down.
Trying to be discreet, she made motions saying he needed to come down to talk to her. He shook his head, and she stomped her foot. Why wouldn’t he believe this was important? Finally, he jabbed a finger at the building behind her and disappeared. She dumped the remainder of her water on the ground and put the pitcher and cup inside the basket before heading to the double doors.
The scents of metal and oiled leather met her as she pulled the right door open and let herself into the main armory. A single torch lit the empty passage from a bracket on the wall. Ash stormed around the corner at the opposite end. She had no idea how he’d gotten there so fast. He walked right up to her, grabbed her arm, and gently shoved her into one of several pitch-black storerooms.
“You know, I have a reason to be up there, unlike you,” he whispered furiously. Ash closed the door and bumped against her hard enough that she backed into an open box stacked in the corner. Something sharp poked her, and she reached behind her to feel what it was and push it fully inside the crate. She could barely see in the faint light from cracks in the door, so she clutched Ash’s vest to make sure he was facing her.
“Ash, they know who you are. They’re going to grab you.”
She had his full attention now. “Who knows?”
“The guards on the tower; I heard them talking. One of them recognized you.”
He put his hands on her upper arms. “Tell me exactly what they said. Exactly.”
Sage repeated it word for word and added, “You have to get out of here, Ash.”
She heard him shake his head. “They’re not talking about me.”
“The king’s son, Ash. That’s you.”
“They’re talking about Robert.”
“Prince Robert?” she gasped. “How—”
“He’s been with us the whole time under a false name.”
“But … how can you be sure they mean him?” After all, Ash was valuable to the crown, too. And to her.
“Just trust me. But you’re right, we need to get him out. Today.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry I was angry. You’d think by now I’d know to trust your judgment, though coming out here wasn’t—”
He broke off at the sound of the armory door creaking open, and two guards entered the hall, laughing and talking. They walked past Sage and Ash’s hiding place and opened a storage closet at the other end of the passage and began rummaging for equipment. Ash leaned on the door to listen for a few seconds, then stepped back to her, and whispered, “They’re getting crossbows for their patrol. Once they find the bolts they’ll be gone.”
A wave of horror swept over Sage, and she seized his collar frantically. “Ash, the bolts are in here.”
“What?”
“There’s a box of crossbow bolts behind me.”
51
SHE HEARD ASH’S breath catch in his throat. Before Sage could say anything more, he pulled her close. “You must forgive what I am about to do,” he whispered, reaching down to hike up her skirt.
“What—” But he silenced her with his mouth on hers. It was so sudden, so urgent, Sage didn’t even register it as kissing as he pushed against her, forcing her back. With one hand up her dress, Ash lifted her off her feet and set her on the crates while the other tugged her bodice laces. He pulled his face back with a murmured apology before nudging her knees apart with his hip and maneuvering to stand between them.