Chapter 56
Robin kept her face hidden behind the large pile of linen clothing in her arms. It had been over ten years since she had been inside the castle kitchens, but she still knew her way through the maze of large counters, even with her vision obscured by soiled linens.
She had not expected the bustling kitchen to feel so familiar.
It was almost comforting to be back. While she’d never truly felt at home in the castle, this was one space she had loved.
The smells of simmering meats and rising dough definitely helped.
The castle laundry was located in a large room behind the kitchens. The shared wall of the two rooms held the large ovens, used on one side for cooking and on the other for heating the tubs of water for scrubbing.
In the midmorning bustle, none of the busy staff noticed or questioned another maid bringing a pile of soiled linens through the kitchen.
Fortunately, the laundry itself was empty. The arduous task of filling the tubs with water and beating out the linen, silk, and wool was best done with early-morning energy.
After dropping her pile of laundry near the closest tub, Robin perused the racks of drying clothes. With the uncertain weather patterns, the castle had enough space to dry laundry inside.
Robin selected three of the knee-length, gray tunics that marked the livery of the Iseldis castle guard.
The bulky uniforms were still damp, making the pile of them heavier than she had expected.
She balanced the weight of them over her good arm.
When she had put on the simple dress Ashlin had found for her, Robin had removed the sling from her injured arm to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to herself.
But she still kept her arm pinned tightly to her side to avoid moving her shoulder as much as possible.
Taking her borrowed loot, she slipped out the other door of the laundry directly onto a broad path that ran between the castle keep and the castle wall. She could not see the front of the castle as it was around the corner up ahead, but the walkway was busy with passing soldiers and guards.
She could feel their eyes on her, and she felt the sudden urge to run down the path until she reached the enclosed space behind the stables where Ian and Lane waited for her.
She resisted the fear, smiling to herself.
Speed would attract attention. The younger version of herself—the one that had snuck through the nearby kitchen for an apple and bread roll in the early mornings as she escaped down this very route to the stables—had run down this path.
She had run from the expectations of what it meant to be a lady in a castle, run from the dozens of eyes tracking her every movement, looking at her with curiosity and pity.
But she was no longer that young girl. She had learned to walk with confidence, no matter where she was, no matter what disguise she wore on the outside. She didn’t need to run. Passing the root cellar and granary, Robin turned into the small, dark nook by the stables.
“Success!” she whispered to the dark shapes of Ian and Lane hiding in the shadows.
Ian stepped forward, taking the bundle of clothing from her. “Still damp,” he whispered back.
Robin stretched her arm, which had grown stiff from carrying the heavy weight. “Put a furnace in your laundry, then,” she whispered.
“Or defeat the chaos magic user who has been causing all the storms, so we do not need to dry our laundry inside anymore,” Ian replied. He handed one of the tunics to Lane and one of them back to Robin.
After removing the belt that held her daggers, Robin slipped the tunic over her head. She arranged the extra fabric around her waist and replaced the belt, then pulled at the laces in the collar to tighten it across her chest before tying it in place.
She reached around her head to tuck her braid down the back of the tunic, but it was a difficult maneuver to manage with only one hand.
“My braid,” she whispered, turning her back to Ian, but he was already reaching out to finish the task for her. His hands lingered at her neck, and Robin felt her heart pounding in her chest. They were ready to start the most dangerous raid she had ever attempted.
“Your helmet,” Lane said, holding out one of the simple metal helmets that he and Ian had procured.
Robin attempted to slide the metal hat over her head. “It does not fit,” she whispered.
The warmth of Ian’s hand left her back, and she felt him gently pressing down on the helmet.
“You can wear it loose,” Lane whispered, “and just remove it before any real fighting happens so it does not distract you.”
“It is too small,” Robin hissed, “not too large.”
“Oh,” Lane replied. “Try this one, then.”
“Your head grew too big,” Ian whispered from behind her as he lifted the helmet. “Which would explain why you always have such good ideas.”
Robin grinned as she tried on the next helmet. “This one fits.” Stepping back, she repositioned her body so that the three of them were facing each other. “Are we ready?”
“We are ready,” Lane echoed.
Ian strapped a borrowed sword to his waist. “Lane is going to station himself at the corner bench near the kitchen door so he can see both the gate and the barracks.”
“One dove coo if someone is coming from the gate,” Robin said, repeating the signal they had agreed upon earlier. “And two if it’s from the barracks.”
“What if they come from both?” Lane asked. Robin smirked in the darkness. Lane was likely making a jest, but she could not always tell.
“Three coos,” Ian responded before Robin could.
“Three coos,” Lane repeated. “Understood.”
They stood for one moment longer, staring at each other, waiting for her to make the first move.
“Try not to get killed,” Lane said, breaking the silence.
“Excellent advice,” Robin replied.
With a calming breath, she turned and stepped into the open walkway.
But instead of leading the way to the castle gate, she moved to the side, gesturing for Ian to take the lead.
He had a better understanding of the guard rotations and how his men moved in formation.
They were literally about to walk into the center of an armed fortress—his armed fortress—so she was more than happy to follow his lead.
Stepping in front of her, Ian instantly relaxed into the stiff step of his natural gait. Here, that confident, measured stride was expected.
Robin watched the confident way he moved through the space and adopted his pace. But she kept her chin low so that the shadow of her helmet covered her eyes.
Just after the door to the kitchen, Ian stopped, nodding to a stone bench on the opposite side of the path.
Lane sauntered to the bench and lifted one leg on top of it. He peered around the corner of the keep, pretending to be mildly engrossed in the activity near the gate.
Ian kept moving, not sparing him a second glance.
As she rounded the corner, Robin’s stomach tightened. The front courtyard was packed with soldiers.
The Iseldis guard lined the base of the walls, standing in loose formation. Several of them clustered near the main gate, which was still closed.
Gareth’s soldiers, dressed in purple livery, lined the keep itself. It was the same arrangement as it had been on the shore—Iseldis men were in front. Chendas was at the back, protected.
Robin looked toward the gate. Zimri stood on the wall directly above it, still looking out through the battlements at the crowd beyond.
With the gate closed, Robin could not see the crowd herself, but she could still hear them calling for the gate to be opened.
They were making enough noise that their general din could be heard over the castle wall itself.
The gate was flanked by two square towers that rose above the upper wall. The tower on the right housed the iron pulley system that opened the gate. They needed to get on top of the wall, go through the left tower, and then get past Zimri to make it to the right tower and open the gate.
She breathed deeply. This type of raid involved far too many people and crowded spaces.
But Ian did not hesitate. He cut through the back edge of the courtyard, walking between the two sets of soldiers whose separation created a natural pathway. Robin followed close behind, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger as she sauntered with confidence.
Ian led them to a narrow staircase on the far side of the gate. It was built into the outer wall, leading up to the walkway that circled the keep.
Two Iseldan guards stood at the base of it, but they were not actively guarding it. They had no reason to control who went up or down it because they were safely enclosed inside their own four walls and no battle was taking place.
Ian did not even glance at them as he stepped onto the staircase, taking the narrow stone steps two at a time.
Robin followed him, mirroring his confidence but touching each individual step as she climbed. She angled her body away from the courtyard. The large tunic nicely covered her more feminine frame, but she did not want to draw attention to herself.
At the top of the wall, she found herself on a stone walkway wide enough for two men to stand side by side.
The outer side of the walkway was lined with crenelated battlements, while the inner side had a simple knee-high railing built into the masonry to prevent one from falling down into the courtyard below.
The walkway was overcrowded. Archers lined every open slot of the battlements, as they had seen earlier from outside the castle.
But an additional two or three soldiers gathered behind every archer, keeping an eye on the activity below.
Whether it was mere curiosity or they had been directed to remain there, Robin was not sure.
What she did know was that walking across the top of the wall to reach the gatehouse was not going to be an easy task.
Ian stopped without warning in front of her, and she bumped into him before she caught herself.