Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
“I was thinking…maybe I can come to work with you today?”
I blinked blearily at Moll and stifled a yawn as she plopped onto the end of my bed. What time was it, even? Surely not yet time for breakfast…
“What do you mean?” She wasn’t going to go away, so I propped my pillow higher to sit up.
“Like, as your assistant. I promise to keep my trap shut, and I will even do all the yucky work, no problem. I just…” Her animated face fell, and she turned away. “I haven’t been sleeping well and being alone here all the time without anyone to talk to is driving me nuts, Harm.”
I got that. Being alone with her thoughts after something so terrible couldn’t have been easy, but we had a mission. And bringing Moll out to interact with people days after trying to murder the king when half of Little Alabaster was looking for her seemed like begging for trouble.
I let out a low sigh. “It’s not a good idea, Moll.” My body and head were still fatigued from the day before. I had bruises across my legs from tumbling away from the bear, and my hands were split in places from the hammer blisters. I needed this conversation like I needed a hole in the head.
She was about to launch into another plea when a knock sounded at the door.
“I’ll get that,” she said, holding up an index finger, “But we aren’t done here.” She yanked on her prosthetic and headed to the front door. A moment later, I could hear a low male voice speaking.
Bertrand? I wondered. No, it wasn’t him, he wouldn’t have bothered to be quiet. The voice was…soft almost.
It was early morning, and I wasn't due at work for almost another hour, so who could it be if not Bertrand? I was just about to go out and check when Moll came barging back into the room, with a box in hand. She kicked off her prosthetic, using said box as a weapon to shove me backward until my knees buckled against the featherbed and I was forced to sit.
“What the hell?” I demanded, accepting the package. She glanced out the shuttered window as if that was going to give her any information.
“It was Sir Crispin,” she hissed, holding a finger to her lips, “the prince’s friend who brought it. He said Duncan sent this for you to wear tonight for the Abundance Feast at the palace. Why didn’t you tell me you were invited to the castle?” she demanded.
I stared down at the shiny white box in shock.
“Seriously? I didn’t even know I was going…”
Abundance Feast day was when most people spent time in their homes with their family, where they reflected on their good fortune, or prayed for better fortune. I’d heard that here in Little Alabaster, they even took the next day off work. Of course, it didn’t go down like that in The Hollow, but we did make an effort to add something a bit fancy to our nighttime meal if we could, and we did a lot of praying for better things.
Relyk had mentioned the palace still planned to have its own celebration, but I hadn’t realized staff would be included.
My cheeks burned as I pushed the box off my lap and onto the featherbed, as if I didn’t want to look inside. “That's so strange,” I said, refusing to meet Moll’s gaze, doing all I could to not think of how Duncan’s hand had felt against my cheek.
“Is it really? Your voice sounds weird, Harm.” She turned and grabbed hold of the stool in the corner of the room and dragged it in front of me. She sat down, fanned her skirts, and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Do you have something to tell me?” Her eyes glowed with a fierce light. “Like what happened on the hunt yesterday? You mentioned you were paired up with Duncan, Second Prince of Alabaster…Seems to me like you may have caught some big game after all...”
I let out a forced laugh and shook my head, the heat in my face increasing. “I already told you. He was very nice and tried to help Fetch and I when we ran into some trouble. Other than that, nothing happened.”
Other than that, definitely something.
The almost-kiss that had haunted my dreams—leaving me with purple smudges beneath my eyes this morning—had barely left my thoughts since it had almost happened. And that was saying something, given all the other things my thoughts should be working on.
You know, small things, like not finding ourselves under the executioner’s axe.
“Well, if you're not going to open it, I am. I can't stand it another second!”
She looked more alive than I'd seen her since before she'd left for the Jubilee, and I waved at the box with a laugh.
“By all means, have at it. It’s probably just a fancy invite, you know how they are here, everything is over the top?—”
She let out a squeal and dove on the box before I finished speaking, tearing into it with wild abandon. What she pulled out took my breath away, but not hers. A flash of red so deep and rich that bordered on black.
“What the fuck is this?” she stared at the item she held up, then tossed it back into the box, forehead wrinkled in disappointment. “No gown?”
“I am the newly hired palace falconer, you know,” I reminded her as I reached into the box and lifted out the beautifully tailored crimson jacket. It was softer than a mare's nose and smartly trimmed in black crushed velvet.
“Pants, though?” she wrinkled her nose.
I looked down at what remained in the box to find buttery, soft black leather trousers with criss-cross stitching up the side that I knew would fit me like a glove. Tucked beneath them were a pair of red, knee-high leather boots, the same deep shade as the riding jacket. My throat ached as I stared at the clothes, and I willed myself not to tear up.
“Now that I see that color against your skin, I have to admit he did choose well, even if it isn't a gown,” Moll admitted with a little sigh. “Would have been nice if he’d put something in here for me.”
Her words rolled off me, water off a duck’s back. I hadn't had a new pair of boots in at least a decade. I likely wouldn’t wear them once we left this place. I'd be gutted on the streets of The Hollow for something so exquisite. But for tonight, I would enjoy the shit out of them. And the jacket and the pants, too.
Tonight, I would be a royal falconer down to my…boots.
I tucked the clothes reverently back into the box and closed the top.
“On that note, I've really got to go to work.” I pushed myself from the featherbed and made my way towards the door, but Moll wasn't about to let me go so easily.
“Before that, though...forget me going to the mew with you. How about I come to the Abundance Feast? I am your cousin, after all…”
“You can't be serious right now.” I stared at Moll, mouth agape.
She perched her hands on her hips and glared back at me, not an ounce of shame in her face. “What, because a girl has taken a vow of silence she can't like to party?” she asked, voice shrill.
I had to take a deep breath, steadying myself before I spoke. “Moll. You're the most wanted woman in Alabaster right now. How do you keep managing to forget that?” I put as much softness as I could manage into my tone, hoping to prevent a blowout.
She began to pace around the bedroom and let out a low laugh. “How could I forget it? You tell me like thirty times a day. I could be of some help, Harm. You yourself just said the O'Donnellys hired you to free their brother from the dungeons. You don’t even know where the dungeons are . I'm good at hiding and listening. Not to mention I can be super charming even if I can't talk. I can scout the area for you, look around, see if I can find some hidden entrances.”
I cut her off with a swipe of my hand through the air and decided on the latter. “You need to stop. I know you want to be helpful, Moll, but the best thing you can do to help is just stay out of the way and keep quiet.”
She opened her mouth to continue arguing, but snapped it shut when I held up a hand.
“Enough.” I bit back the tone I wanted to use, reminding myself of all she’d been through. “It’s not happening. I promise I'll bring back a plate of snacks to rival even the finest royal buffet. And I'll even listen for all the gossip. We can stay up half the night and dissect who’s cheating on who, and who wore the worst color for their skin tone while we stuff our faces. Okay?”
“I don’t care about all that!” she shouted, tears in her eyes now. “I’m worried about you being there with…him. I want to help?—”
“Help with what, Moll? Getting caught?” I pulled out my ace and used it. “You have the most stunning face of anyone I know. One look close up, even without all your red curls and Heinrich will know you. Tell me you understand? ”
Her throat worked and she nodded as she turned away. Her voice sounded strained as she murmured a reply. “You’re right, I am unforgettable. Fine. I understand.”
Appealing to her vanity always worked, which was why I used the trick seldom. You should never overplay your ace, or it might not work the next time.
By the time I made my way to the mew that morning, I felt slightly less filled with doom than the day before. Granted, our situation hadn't improved much, in truth. The O'Donnellys’ latest demands had only made my job of getting us out of here more difficult. But with the invite to the palace, at least I had a path to potential success now. A way to scope out the place, find the dungeon, and hopefully figure out a way to get around back and see the drawings on the amphitheater up close.
“You might even have a friend and ally…” a small voice in my mind whispered.
I shoved it aside and forced myself to think about anything but Duncan as I completed the short walk to work.
“Oh, good morning there,” Bertrand said, as I stepped inside.
“Good morning to you as well, sir. You look rested.”
He nodded and shot me an uncharacteristic wink. “That's because I am. Riding high on Eamon's and my victory from yesterday. Sorry to rub it in, kid,” he said. But the smile beneath his walrus-like mustache told me he wasn't that sorry, not one bit.
I wasn't mad at all. Let him have his moment of glory. When I was long gone from here, hopefully, he'd remember my short time in the mew somewhat fondly, instead of cursing my name.
“I guess we better get started. The sorcerer said I clearly need to spend time getting you up to a higher skill level and knowledge.”
Which was why, for the next few hours, Bertrand regaled me with falcon facts. Most I knew, some I didn't. Regardless, the droning gave me time to work on some other problems in the back of my head. Like how to find my way down to the dungeons without getting caught.
“Something most don’t know is that the falcons used to deliver messages inside the palace?—”
“I’m sorry, what?” I cut in, not sure I heard him right, because this just might be the answer I was looking for. “Say that again? That seems…unusual.”
He scratched at his chin and then nodded. “There is a network of passageways for them built right into the ceilings. Every major room has a little chute, and we even sometimes have falcons posted with a guard in the throne and war rooms, in case they need to pass a message along quickly. Or we used to. Probably use them less often than we should, though.”
He reached for his leather-covered book and proceeded to launch into a discussion about bookkeeping and how important it was to keep track of how many kills each falcon brought in each day so they could keep an eye on game populations in the palace hunting grounds.
I, on the other hand, continued thinking about those chutes—even better than I could have hoped. Initially I’d thought I could send Fetch through the castle, as if delivering messages, then ‘go find’ my missing falcon, depending on how big they were. Assuming they went all the way down to the dungeons, I could potentially pass by completely unnoticed.
At least until I got to the guards.
I winced.
“You got gut pains?”
I shook my head. “No, sorry, just thinking about…” Gods, how did I ask him about the number of guards in the dungeon without raising suspicion, “thinking about that poor stable girl, being harassed by…ten guards I heard.”
Bertrand grunted and shook his head. “Poor girl indeed. Doubt she did anything at all to the king, but you didn’t hear that from me.” He paused long enough that I thought he wouldn’t bite. “But ain’t ten guards down there, no more than two or three at a time.”
Perfect. And not. Bertrand went back to telling me the speeds of different falcons in flight, and my mind wandered far away from bird talk.
If the dungeons were watched by multiple guards even when they were locked, I'd have to figure out how to make the incapacitator launch a second time with a shorter recharge.
That was going to be tricky. Especially if I still wanted to control the power of the thing. As much as I needed to get Billy free if I wanted the O’Donnellys to get us out of here, I wasn't about to turn a corner from thief and accomplice to full on murderer.
After meeting Duncan and Sir Crispin, I had to believe not everyone in Little Alabaster was evil, even if they did swear fealty to a tarnished crown. If I could get away without having lives on my conscience, that would be grand. In large part because if I killed someone the hunt would be not just for Moll at that point, but for us both. And I didn’t have any hair dyes that could disguise my dark curls.
The rest of the day passed in a haze as I worked side by side with Bertrand. I was a fast learner, and even when he showed me something I already knew, I kept my mouth shut and listened, or at least appeared to listen. By the end of the day, he'd stopped taking shots at me about my loss on the hunt the day before, and had even cracked a few jokes, not at my expense...
Was it possible the old man was warming to me?
“Bert, love, are you still here?” a low voice called through the door just as I was packing up to leave.
An old woman whose back made the shape of a C stood in the doorway, clearly in pain as she tried to crane her neck up high enough to see us.
Bertrand’s wife. I’d seen her at the exhibition.
“Oh, hello there,” she said as I instinctively stooped to put my face in her line of vision. “You must be Ella.”
“I am,” I replied and held up my hand, “and you must be Marjorie. Bertrand's told me so much about you.”
She managed a pained smile and shook my hand gently, her skin feeling paper thin against my own. My heart ached as I stared into her lined face. Her gray eyes were sharp and inquisitive, and she had a pert nose and high cheekbones that spoke of beauty at one point in her life. But pain had stolen that from her, along with a lot of other things, I was guessing.
“There she is!” Bertrand said as he made his way towards his bride. He bent low and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his whole demeanor changing as he interacted with her. The grumpy old man lit up, love and concern filling his face. “Why did you come all the way here?” he asked. “I told you I would be home before supper.”
“I was stiff and needed to get out for a walk, but I'm afraid I may have overdone it. Walked too far to just turn around, so I came here, to take a moment.”
“I'll get your chair.” He scurried off faster than I've ever seen him move, and appeared a moment later, wheeling a wooden chair on wheels.
“That's amazing,” I said, studying the engineering of the thing.
I'd created one similar to it for Killana, a little girl who’d been born unable to walk in The Hollow. She could still have her friends and siblings push her around and be with them outside. But this one had some bells and whistles I hadn't considered, like a parking brake and a tray that you could lift and secure in front of the person. I tucked the idea away, thinking how much Killana would love those changes, and smiled as Bertrand helped his wife into the chair.
Marjorie settled down with a sigh and a tightening of her lips. “The prince came by the house and dropped off some more salve for me. I think I'll need you to put it on when we get home. He did say that Othron blooms will be in short supply once the heavy frost sets in. They do have some dried specimens left at the palace, but he isn't sure if it will be enough.” She shook her head ruefully. “I tried to give it back to him, but he wouldn't take it.”
“You should accept it,” I interjected, realizing too late that this conversation was between husband and wife and probably none of my business. But Marjorie didn't seem bothered. “I'm sure he wants to help,” I continued.
“He does, to a fault,” she said with a low chuckle. “He needs the medication for himself though?—”
Bertrand cut in smoothly, “We best be getting home, dear. The young'un will be attending the Abundance Feast at the palace tonight,” he said, shooting Marjorie a pointed look.
Based on Bertrand’s hurried interruption, it seemed like either no one was supposed to know that Prince Duncan was giving Marjorie medication , or they weren't supposed to know that he was taking it himself. Was Duncan ill? He didn’t look it. Another nugget I tucked away to gnaw on later.
“Won't you be attending as well?” I asked Bertrand.
“Nope. I’ll stay home with the missus. Prince Duncan always sends over a basket full of treats for us to enjoy all by ourselves on Abundance Feast, and I wouldn't have it any other way.”
Marjorie patted his liver-spotted hand, affectionately, and then gave it a squeeze. “You're a good man, Bertrand.”
Watching them, I almost felt like Moll must all the time…like I could believe in true love and romance. That there were happy endings.
Almost. I didn’t like how my throat tightened, and I thought not of Duncan, but of a fantasy man who haunted my dreams—a man who wasn’t real?
No, that way lay madness and heartbreak.
“I better get going. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and your picnic. It was really nice to meet you, Marjorie,” I said, my voice a little thick with unspoken emotions.
And it had been nice to meet her, to see the change a good woman brought out in a man who loved her. She seemed like a truly lovely lady. But as I headed off across the grounds towards my hut, my thoughts were firmly on the young, enigmatic prince. I couldn’t help but wonder…
How many more secrets did Prince Duncan have?