Found
Moll bit her lip and watched the gallows rise on either side of the castle gates as the moon crossed the night sky.
While she couldn’t have wished for better light in which to harvest, ‘twould be fair difficult—if not impossible—to sneak back into the castle undetected. Inside the stables, she waited as patiently as she could, praying the stable hands wouldn’t return—at least, not until the queen’s men had retired.
After what felt like years, the queen’s men finally packed up their tools, and with a slowness that made her grind her teeth, filed back inside the castle through the postern gate.
The iron-studded door had no sooner closed than she leapt up from the straw and dashed out the stable doors.
‘Twas time to harvest. A quick glance at the moon revealed she had less than an hour to find the mushrooms and pluck them from the earth. ‘Twas doable, most assuredly, and fortunate the snow had, for the most part, melted.
She hurried to the stable wall where she’d seen the mushrooms before and fell to her knees. The rich, damp scent of wet earth filled her nostrils as she pulled back the dried leaves and brown-tipped fern fronds heaped against the wall.
The minutes passed. With a deepening frown, she ran her fingers over the rocks and clumps of loamy soil.
Her heart began to thud.
“No,” she sobbed under her breath.
The mushrooms were nowhere to be found. With a growing desperation, she searched the entire base of the wall and the rest, as well, the image of Charlotte lying ill at the bed tearing her soul.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”
At last, she could deny it no longer.
The mushrooms were truly gone.
Moll closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. ‘Twas no doubt the fault of the snow. Still, perhaps, there were still mushrooms left in the wood.
Determined, she rose to her feet and took a step toward the line of trees across the road when the creaking of a cart startled her into taking cover behind one of the carriages parked near the stable wall.
Less than a minute later, shadowy figures appeared around the bend in the road. ‘Twas two men with staves, driving half a dozen pigs toward the stables with another man leading a donkey pulling a cart.
“At last,” one man grumbled. “’Tis Haddon Hall.”
“Will they let us in, now we’re late?”
“If they wish to keep Her Majesty in a fine mood, they will,” the first man snapped.
The man with the donkey guffawed.
Something about his laugh made Moll’s skin crawl. Unsettled, she peeked through the spokes of the carriage wheels, watching them closely as they drove the pigs into the barn.
“We butcher the old sow, first,” the first man said as they emerged once again. “Eldric, fetch a torch and build the fire.”
With a grunt, Eldric stalked away.
The moment he was out of earshot, the first man muttered, “There’s something off with the man.”
“He works well enough,” the other replied.
As they returned into the barn, Moll silently backed away.
The moon now stood at its zenith. There was little time left. Moll drew a sharp breath. She couldn’t panic. She simply hadn’t the time. Nor could she waste time pondering on her return. She had to find the mushrooms—and quickly.
Refusing to even contemplate failure, she scanned her surroundings. The mushrooms she sought grew at the base of stones. The castle walls, made of rock, stretched out in both directions. ‘Twould be dangerous, but her best chance at finding what she sought.
She crept through the underbrush and made her way close to the castle wall. Torches flickered on the ramparts, revealing more men than she’d ever seen there before. Of course, the presence of the queen had only—
The sudden snapping of a twig caused her to whirl.
“Lor!” a gruff voice swore.
Eldric stood behind her, his face half covered by his cloak. For a moment, he simply stared, and then he lunged, as if to grab her.
Startled, she leapt to her feet and dashed away.
Swearing, he pursued, a fresh volley of curses spewing from his lips each time he stumbled in the dark.
She fled to the forest, but once under the cover of the trees, tripped and fell to land on her hands and knees. Holding her breath, she scooted back against the nearest tree.
The man stumbled into the wood, but within three yards, he paused to listen.
The branches of the trees creaked and rustled in the occasional gusts of wind.
Finally, the man spat, then turned back to the road and to the postern gate.
Moll drew a shaky breath. ‘Twas far too close a call. She stirred, preparing to rise, when a shaft of moonlight fell to the forest floor.
Her heart jumped in her throat. ‘Twas as if divine guidance had led her there.
Along the base of the boulder, small white caps pushed up from the soil.
Almost reverently, she ran a fingertip over the small, plump caps. Fourteen. Moll closed her eyes. ‘Twould be enough for Charlotte and Lady Haddon, as well. Relief, sweet and pure, washed over her, soothing her fears.
With a smile, she whispered the words of her spell as she so gently, so carefully pulled the stalks from the dirt and lay them in the moonlight, side-by-side.
Then, at last, ‘twas done.
She gathered a nest of grass and twisted the dry withered stalks around the mushrooms for protection.
Satisfied with the results, she lifted her skirt and tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of her shift to wrap the entire bundle with the greatest of care.
Then, for an extra measure of protection, she slid the bundle into the contraption still belted about her waist. At least, the ‘bairn’ had proved useful.
She rose and crept back to the edge of the forest to peer at the castle.
‘Twas time to face her next daunting task, that of her return. Perhaps, she could—
A hand clamped over her mouth.
Moll screamed and bucked, but the hand covering her lips was far too strong, too powerful to let the sound escape.
Then, a familiar voice sliced through her panic, “Easy, lass.”
Lass? Moll’s knees turned into jelly.
‘Twas Taran.
“Aye,” he grated in a near growl. “I dinna know whether to be angry or proud of what ye’ve done. I’ll decide once I have ye safe back in Haddon Hall.” He paused, then asked, “Did ye find what ye seek?”
She nodded into his hand.
His fingers fell away. She whirled to face him. ‘Twas dark, but she could see enough to know he was displeased—nay, angry.
“I had no choice,” she began.
He silenced her with a finger on her lips.
Neither spoke as he grasped her wrist and pulled her forward, keeping to the shadows until there was nothing left but an empty expanse of road between them and the castle gates.
Taran stood still, waiting until the two guards above the castle gates turned their heads before he lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled. ‘Twas a shrill warble, one that sounded so like a bird that Moll could hear an answering call in the trees behind them.
The guards above the gate shifted, then suddenly glanced over their shoulders.
A hoot of an owl sounded close by the castle gates, then, Taran was pulling her forward, straight to the wall, half-carrying her along the way as he swept her toward the postern gate.
It all happened so fast. The next thing she knew, she was shoved through the door. Hands pulled her forward and into the courtyard, a flicker of torchlight illuminating long, swinging gray braids.
“Quickly, now,” Doughall urged.
Then Taran returned, his strong arm hurrying her forward to the safety of the laundry room. He didn’t give her time to think until he’d bundled through the door.
‘Twas only once they stood safely inside that he whirled upon her. “I’ll not have ye do something so foolish again,” he rasped through clenched teeth.
Moll lifted her chin. “I had no choice.”
With his jaw set in a stern line, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Did ye not see the gallows, lass?”
“Yes,” she hissed in reply. Then, with narrowing eyes, added, “Would you have me let Charlotte die?”
The breath he drew was a sharp one, then, he closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged.
Her anger melted. ‘Twas clear he only feared on her behalf.
He stepped forward, but she met him halfway. As his arms closed around her, she lay her cheek against his hard chest. As ever, with him, she felt safe. For a few precious moments, she stayed there, listening to the steady beating of his heart.
“Promise me, lass,” he whispered into her hair. “Promise me, ye’ll not do such a foolish thing again.”
He’d risked so much to see her safe. ‘Twas an exceedingly dangerous thing to do, yet, she wouldn’t—nay, couldn’t—promise such a thing. She’d do it again, to save those she loved. “There is no need,” she answered instead. “Soon, both Charlotte and Lady Haddon will be safe.”
Outside the windows, men began to shout.
Taran lifted a brow, alarmed, and then, he stepped back with a curt, “I will return.”
Unsettled, she watched him stride away, but as the shouts continued, she peered out the laundry room door.
A cluster of men had gathered around the postern gate. Moll bit her lip. Had they been seen? She frowned, worried.
Then, something moved in the corner of her eye. She jerked and whirled as a figure stepped out from the shadows. In the dim light, ‘twas too difficult to see, but she recognized the cloak.
‘Twas the man who had chased her in the woods.
With a gasp, she dove back into the laundry and slammed the door shut. As the bolt slid safely home, she sagged against the wood in relief.