72
D’AMIRAN WATCHED THE activity below from his window. The escort soldiers milled about the inner and outer wards, collecting supplies for continuing their journey, but it was only a cover. They were looking for her.
He smiled to himself. They’d never find her.
And as the day wore on, Quinn would get more and more frantic. Geddes had seen the look on his face when he handed him the knife—the boy had almost lost control right there. D’Amiran would enjoy executing him in front of everyone. The escort soldiers would dissolve into chaos, and he’d have them easily.
And then tonight everything would come together.
The last of his nobles were expected to arrive this evening. Scribes were finishing the wedding announcements and dowry demands at that very moment, and the messengers could go out at first light as soon as the bedsheets were collected to prove the permanence of the unions. D’Amiran would head to his army in the morning, and they would march. It might ruin the element of surprise to send young Quinn’s head to his father beforehand, but the poetry of it was irresistible.
“Your Grace,” came a voice from behind him. D’Amiran turned away from the window to acknowledge his bowing steward. “The morning meal is ready, if you wish to break your fast.” The man indicated the table laid out.
“Actually, I believe I’ll go to the Great Hall,” D’Amiran said. The steward tried to hide his frustration. It was no easy task to bring everything up here, but the duke didn’t care. He wanted to see Quinn’s face for himself, wanted to relish it.
He shrugged out of his robe, and the steward rushed to bring his doublet, hissing to the waiting page that he must delay the meal below until the duke arrived. Once the close-fitting jacket was buttoned and his sleeves straightened, D’Amiran went downstairs, a bounce in his step. He entered the Great Hall from the back, smiling as everyone rose from their seats. With one hand, he gestured for all to sit, eyes sweeping over the table where the escort officers sat. All three of them.
Lady Clare left her seat and came to meet him, sinking into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace honors us,” she said.
This one he’d picked for himself. Even if her family was already bound to him through her sister’s marriage to his brother, they were still the richest in Crescera. And she was lovely. Castella Carey had been lovely. It almost made up for that disappointment.
One of the officer’s heads went up, watching, and D’Amiran realized why Clare had come forward. Oh, he would enjoy this.
“My dear, I could never pass up an opportunity to spend more time in your presence,” he said as he raised Clare’s hand and put it on his arm. He spoke loud enough for all to hear, and the officer watching stiffened as D’Amiran led her back to the table. When they reached the head, the duke indicated she should sit at his right hand, forcing some shuffling of seats.
The platters came out and the duke waited for his plate to be filled before turning to Lady Clare. “And how are you this morning, my lady? I hope the weather hasn’t dampened your spirits.”
“Oh, no,” she said lightly—too lightly. “I’m worried a bit for my friend. Lady Sagerra fell ill last night. I haven’t seen her all morning.”
The girl wasn’t very good at hiding her intentions. Her eyes kept darting to the officers’ table. All three watched silently, their food untouched.
The plan had been to have Geddes drop a particularly vile hint about where the Fowler girl was during the afternoon muster. One that would have Quinn raging to rescue his beloved little commoner. One that would lead him straight into a trap in his private chambers. But this was too good to pass up.
D’Amiran looked back to Clare with a sympathetic smile. “Indeed, she’s in my infirmary. I spoke to her only an hour ago.”
Clare’s back went rigid. “May I see her, Your Grace?”
“Oh, no, my lady,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I’d never forgive myself if you became ill, too.” He glanced over at the officers’ table with a smirk. “And she’s in no condition to see anyone right now.”
73
SAGE WOKE TO the steady drip of water. Her face hurt in more places than she would’ve imagined possible, and she could barely see out of one eye. She turned her head away from the light and discovered a new pain in the back of her skull. For the next twenty seconds, she battled dizziness and nausea, conquering both only to remember the previous night. The nausea surged, and she rolled to her side and retched the meager contents of her stomach onto the stone floor.
Large hands reached down to pull her hair back from her face as she vomited, though most of it was completely matted to her scalp by dried blood. The muscles that went rigid with her heaving identified even more bruises and scrapes, and she sagged and groaned.
“You’ll be all right,” soothed a deep voice. Sage’s hands were over her stomach. The sash of red blaze was missing. She clutched around for it frantically. It was all that mattered. “We’ve got it,” the man said. “Relax.”
He tried to help her sit, but she struggled against him until dizziness overtook her. The man held her upright until the world stopped spinning. Sage blinked at the dark, bearded face that swam into focus. She recognized him now, though it had been dark when they found each other in the woods last night. When he seemed sure she could hold herself up, he tipped a canteen over a scrap of cloth and began wiping her face. Sage flinched away from the wet rag and the pain it brought, but he continued his gentle cleaning. “We didn’t realize you were a girl till the sun came up and we could see you better. Sorry if we roughed you up.”
“Forget it.” She’d been near collapse when she found Alex’s scouts, so she hadn’t resisted when they pinned her to the ground and searched her for weapons. “The castle guard who found me before you did was far rougher.” He chuckled, and she took in her surroundings. They sat sheltered in an overhang of rock on the side of a steep slope. “Where are the others?”
He poured more water over the cloth. “Dell’s checking the snares, and Stephen’s patrolling. Rob and Jack are probably right at the pass by now. If they push hard, they can light the signal fire tomorrow morning, and we’ll have reinforcements in less than a week, thanks to you. Can you drink anything?”
She nodded and discovered it was not a movement she wanted to repeat anytime soon. “Yes,” she rasped.