Stephen and Dell exchanged an amused glance. Ash shook his head. “Nothing. I just—I can see why he likes you. You’re stubborn as hell.”
“So is he.” Sage had to smile. “That aside, I’m coming along.”
“Can you handle a crossbow?” he asked.
“I doubt it.”
“Spear or sword?”
She swallowed. “No.”
“Knife?”
“Only a little. And I lost mine.” Her confidence faded.
Ash sighed. “Mistress Sage, I hate to say it, but unless you come up with something, I’ll have to insist you stay here, and I’m sure the captain would agree with me.”
Sage looked down, cheeks burning. She didn’t want to be a burden, but she couldn’t stay away. There had to be something. The drawstring of Dell’s travel bag caught her eye, and she smiled.
While the soldiers sorted through what they would take and what they’d leave behind, Sage got to work, borrowing Ash’s knife and cannibalizing a torn satchel for her purpose. When she showed Ash what she’d made, he frowned.
“How good are you?”
“Good enough to hunt with,” she replied.
Ash’s frown remained, but he agreed to let her come when she promised to obey orders and stay out of the way. Stephen and Dell didn’t seem to mind her presence, especially when she proved she could keep up with their pace down the mountainside. When they reached the river, already swelling with the rain and melted snow, Ash halted and gestured for her to go ahead.
Sage picked through the stones along the riverbed, searching for the ones with the best balance and smoothness. Ash watched with crossed arms. He still didn’t like the idea, and frankly she didn’t blame him. Her own courage faltered when she thought how long it had been since she’d used a sling, and she hadn’t yet tried out the one she’d cobbled together with the drawstring and a scrap of leather.
She stuffed several round stones in her pockets. There wasn’t time to be picky. Hopefully she wouldn’t even need them. “I’ve got enough,” she called as she waded out of the frigid stream.
Ash didn’t move. “If you wouldn’t mind a quick demonstration.”
Sages swallowed nervously. “You’ll have to give me the first one. I’ve never used this sling.”
“I’ll give you three tries.”
She nodded and wove the knotted ends through her fingers. A perfect stone presented itself at her feet, and she swooped down to grab it. It was almost too good to waste on her first attempt, but she settled it in the leather pouch and pulled it taut. When she gave the weapon an experimental swing, she almost laughed. It felt like she’d never put a sling aside.
“Try to hit that greenish knot on the fallen tree over there.” Ash pointed at a target twenty-five yards away.
Sage spun the sling faster and focused on the spot he indicated. Don’t think. Just throw. The leather cup swished past her face right where she wanted, and she snapped her arm to release the stone. It sailed out and hit the log with a thunk, embedding itself in the soggy wood just below the target. She’d missed the knot by mere inches. When she recovered from her own shock, she put on a smug smile and turned to face him.
“Will that do?”
75
ALEX DIDN’T KNOW whether to believe what D’Amiran had told Clare or not, but the duke obviously wanted him to think Sage was alive. He wanted Alex to come after her, which meant D’Amiran was ready.
So was Alex.
I’m coming, Sage.
He knocked on the door, and the matchmaker opened it and let him into her suite.
“Everyone’s here,” she said before he could ask. A glance around told him the count was low, and she gestured to the bedroom. “Some are changing. Their idea of dressing plainly isn’t the same as mine.”
Alex nodded once and strode through the back door without knocking, eliciting several shrieks. None of the women were truly uncovered, though, and he was not in the mood for propriety. He pointed his finger at one girl and swept it around to the others. “All of you will follow me, be silent, and attract no attention. If you refuse to cooperate or allow yourselves to be left behind, you forfeit my protection.”
A tall blonde stepped forward, chest heaving in what she must have believed was an attractive way, and put her hand on him. “What is the danger, sir?” she begged.
He shifted his gaze to the painted nails clutching his arm. Jacqueline. He recalled the name and the venom stretching back to the first night. Sage had risked her life for this wretched woman. Suffered for her. He peeled her fingers off coldly.
“Death.”
The women were silent after that.
After a quick nod from the soldier posted in the passage told him all was clear, Alex led them out. Each bride carried a bundled shawl as they walked down the steps to the laundry, three levels below the guest wing. With the shortened staff brought on by the sickness, along with the approaching midday meal, the area was deserted. His soldier brought up the rear and stood outside the door as Alex bent over and pulled the sewer drain open, trying not to think about the last time he’d done so. He looked up at over a dozen shocked faces.
“In there?” cried one of the ladies.
“Yes, and quickly.” He held out his arms. “Who’s first?”
Lady Clare stepped forward without hesitation, pinning her skirts between her legs to make them smaller. He grasped her arms and lowered her down. “Move along the tunnel to make room.” He turned back to the group and held up his arms. “Next.” No one moved, so Mistress Rodelle shoved the nearest girl at him. As he lowered her, her dress caught on the opening, and she went down with it flipped over her head. The rest tucked their skirts as Clare had.
Jacqueline arranged herself last, and Alex eyed her voluminous skirt while she simpered at him. “I don’t think you can fit through.” He pulled out a knife and jabbed it into the fabric and ripped off the excess as she protested. “Quiet,” he snapped. Once she disappeared into the darkness, he kicked the remainder of her dress down after her. Now he faced the matchmaker alone.
“I’m going to get her back,” he said.
Mistress Rodelle smiled a little. “I know.”
She held out her arms, and Alex lowered her below, then tossed a burlap sack down, explaining it contained some food, water, and several daggers. As he sealed the stone grate over them, pressing dirt into the cracks, he overheard the matchmaker warn she’d cut out the tongue of any lady who complained. Alex smiled grimly. He had little doubt she’d be willing to carry out her threat.
*