FORTY FOUR
The morning was gray with a touch of chill. Denny slapped his arms but was obviously excited to get out of the castle. Benjamin handed him a tattered wool cloak that he had just stomped dirt into. He’d stopped just short of rubbing it into a pile of fresh horse dung. Denny rolled his eyes but put it on.
“Better dirty and smelly than skewered on a roasting stick,” Benjamin said as he repeated the process for himself.
Two of the soldiers who would be accompanying them shrugged, and then they rubbed dirt and straw on their boots and clothes as well.
“That’s right; we want a real lived-in look.” He winked at Denny, who shook his head.
He scanned the stone courtyard. It was empty apart from their party. The boys hoped to keep their departure from Rebecca. They had retired to bed early, citing boredom and too much dinner—believable excuses for teenage boys forced to listen to Dally discussing hair strategies. Unable to escape her own rooms, Rebecca glared at them as they left. They would be gone before she woke and hopefully be gone long enough for her anger to be spent on other people.
A few soldiers were already on their horses. A small soldier in the back had pulled his hood up, shading his face. Benjamin stood next to Denny and gestured behind him with his head. Denny swore quietly under his breath.
Sir Wendell, the captain of the guard, approached in answer to their signal. He was a stout man with a curled moustache. He was here as a formality only, but Benjamin was thankful to have an extra man now.
“Do you have everything you need?” Wendell asked.
“Yes, and more.”
Wendell followed Benjamin’s eyes. He paled and bit his lip. He signaled two men to follow him.
“Hell hath no fury—” Benjamin muttered at Denny, who slunk into a shadow.
Wendell approached the hooded rider and bowed. The men took hold of the reins, causing Rebecca to swear. The men blushed. She lifted her head to stare down every single man in the company. Her glare took on a murderous glint when it hit Benjamin. White with rage, Rebecca ground her teeth in frustration. He bowed slightly in return and turned to Denny, who cowered behind his own hood.
Sir Wendell reached out a hand to guide the princess along, but she flung it away. “I can walk by myself,” she growled, shoving through several gaping soldiers. Sir Wendell escorted her to her rooms at a cautious distance.
“We’re probably better off getting killed in the line of duty than returning alive and well,” Denny said, fidgeting with his cloak.
“You’re probably right.”
They climbed on their horses and trickled through the heavy gates and onto the main road.
She might forgive us if we were either severely wounded or dead, Benjamin mused. Maybe after a few months of solitary confinement in her dungeons, she might come around, he added with a smirk. Benjamin would solve that problem when he got there and probably with a lot of batting of lashes from Denny.
+ + +
Denny took to horseback riding as if he’d done nothing else his whole life. Benjamin struggled. He loathed every moment of it. His backside would never be the same again. Yet he needed to learn to ride to survive and to work with the king’s men. By the Great Wolves! Why didn’t they teach this sort of thing at the academy? Horseback riding should have been part of the curriculum. But then, no one could afford horses.
When they stopped to rest, one of the soldiers adjusted Benjamin’s stirrups, while another demonstrated how to use his legs to reduce the jarring. His back muscles pulled tightly from his shoulders to his legs. His butt hurt. There had to be a more efficient way to travel than by horse. Benjamin thanked the soldiers and then collapsed under a tall pine tree. He felt like he was still on his horse. The ride never ended.
The plant life along the wide main road was green. He could feel a slight dampness in the air. Tall trees stood next to the road, flush with green needles. Benjamin missed the drag of dust in his throat as he breathed the moist air. Was it possible to get too much air at one time? He dug the heel of his boot into the moist earth.
Denny examined a flowering weed as he led his horse to a green spot to eat. “It really is a different world here, isn’t it?” he said, shaking his head.
Benjamin nodded.
When they started again, Benjamin stole glances at Lam as he rode. It looked as if the Sunset Mountains had shed giant rocks all around them and trees had sprouted out of them. As they traveled south on the road, the mountains were always visible above them to the west. They passed farms as the sun filled in colors around them. The day warmed, drying the morning dampness. Benjamin’s horse rippled like silk under the sun.
To accommodate Benjamin, they stopped more often than the soldiers wanted. Normally that would bother him, but he felt as if his backside had been molded to the saddle. He was sure blisters had formed on his inner thighs from the heat that burned there.
Waldren’s Wood was now in view, its dark trees staring up from below. A river poured down the mountainside and plunged into the cursed forest. They let the horses drink; the animals did so skittishly. Dark shadows reached out from the black-needled trees. Every noise sent a jump through the men and horses alike.
They slept in the ruins of Prince Evan’s castle on the edge of the forest. Benjamin tried to imagine Rebecca toddling around there, but he couldn’t. There were plenty of solid walls in many places, and the damage was mostly on one side, but it was empty. Provisions were locked in an old cellar. The men built a fire in the old kitchen hearth. They told stories of the sad ruins as they ate dinner. There were plenty of tales of weeping ghosts and phantom smoke. Benjamin just rolled his eyes and discovered Denny missing. He slipped away and found Denny standing in the great entry at the bottom of the stairs, his head tilted upward, hunting for the ceiling in the darkness.
“Looking for ghosts?” Benjamin asked.
Denny turned and shook his head. The empty room still stank of smoke.
“I’m trying to imagine Rebecca here, a whole castle of people devoting their lives to her, only to be turned out into a hovel on the Thieves’ Plain, where she cooked and cleaned for us. We’re so far beneath her; we should be like ants to her.”
Benjamin had never thought much about Rebecca’s past, other than how it complicated his life. (But then that was how he thought of most people, really.)
“You’re still her friend,” Benjamin said, shrugging.
“For how long?” Denny scrubbed the back of his neck. “Things have changed.”
“You’ve earned her trust. That hasn’t changed. She will always need that.”
Denny gazed around the empty room. “I would do anything for her.”
“Never give her reason to doubt that, and you will always have a place in her life.”
“I wanted more.”
“I know,” Benjamin said. “Friendship is more. She needs that. You need that.”
Denny nodded and then locked eyes with Benjamin. “You don’t need friends, though, do you?”
Denny’s words echoed in Benjamin's footsteps as he walked away.
FORTY FIVE
Rebecca huffed and glared at a pink flower woven into the pattern of the rug by her feet while Dally lectured in the background. Thankfully, Branwen decided against telling Aldo about her attempt to ride into battle. He simply stated that while her actions were noble, they lacked foresight, and something else about the “big picture.”
She ground her teeth as they accused her of losing control and acting childish. They had no idea how much self-control she was using right now. She felt like screaming until there was nothing left of her but a scream. They hadn’t even begun to see her lose it yet. Fuming on the couch was a huge display of self-control. The only ones who could appreciate that were galloping away to battle. Dally had paced, spouting words of rebuke mixed with sympathetic shoulder pats.
“Do you really think I’m just going to sit here in this room and drink tea for the rest of my life?” Rebecca glared st
raight into Branwen’s eyes of polished granite.
“No, not a future queen.” The secretary’s face softened at her words. “This seclusion is just temporary.”
“Possible future queen,” she said. “I’m just an understudy. What about Lady Jalene?”
Branwen sat in a chair opposite her, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes and sighed.
“Not all the nobles are happy about the king taking another bride. There are those who had their own offerings rejected and those who want no queen next to the king at all—unless they are king themselves.”
“Besides Mouthrot?” Rebecca slumped.
“Your uncle has been playing chess with many of his nobles. They will not act directly against him, but they wouldn’t bat an eye at removing you, Lady Jalene, or any child she may have. Her enemies are your enemies. It might be good for her and her supporters to know that.”
Rebecca leaned forward and picked up a roll from the plate that Dally set prominently in front of her. Rebecca chewed slowly, aware that both adults were watching her closely.
“Perhaps we should arrange a less formal meeting?” She scanned the room. “Have the maids finished their rounds?”
“No.” Dally scowled in concern. “You aren’t planning on making a run for it, are you?”
“Not the niece of the king. No, I don’t think so.” Branwen gathered his black robes around him. “She can’t go anywhere.”
“I need to know this castle. I need to know who people are. I’ll never do that in here,” Rebecca said with a sly grin. “If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s to act like an overlooked servant girl.”
Branwen raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I can drop the attitude for a while.”
He rubbed his chin for quite a while at that, his sharp eyes studying her face.
FORTY SIX
It felt good to be in a simple skirt again: she literally felt lighter. Rebecca was in her element. Her maid’s dress was nothing fancy but was certainly finer and cleaner than what she wore around the Thieves’ Plain. She wrapped a scarf tightly around her head. Dally pinned it in place for good measure and then handed her a basket filled with laundry.
“Well, now that we’ve hit upon this idea, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. It would have been less conspicuous than having me or the guards carting things to and from your room.” Dally paused and cast a sideways glance before adding, “I mean you posing as a serving girl, not you doing your own laundry.”
Rebecca laughed as they passed the guards. Dropping her laundry off for someone else to do was moving up in the world for her. The guards stood straighter as the women walked by, nothing more than what Dally would normally get. By herself, a simple servant girl would barely get a nod.
She adjusted the basket against her hip as they passed another set of guards, who followed her with their eyes in a stiff, uneasy manner.
“I hope this doesn’t open the door for them to slack off.”
“Of course not. They need to project the attitude that someone is still in your rooms and not running around the castle, vulnerable,” Dally whispered.
They dropped the laundry off first. Dally introduced Rebecca as Sara to Brigit, the head laundress, a red-faced, well-muscled woman. “Finally got someone to help you out? Here, I’ll take that.”
Dally nodded in response. “Brigit.”
Brigit clenched the basket with rough, chapped hands. “You’ll pick it up here.” She pointed to a shelf with a thick finger.
“Thank you,” Rebecca said. She curtsied and avoided eye contact, exaggerating her nervousness.
Dally smiled at Brigit and then continued the tour. They passed all sorts of servants. Some wore nothing more than simple peasant attire with an apron or vest to mark their employment, while others wore Aldo’s colors in various cuts and designs that marked them as guards, soldiers, or high-ranking servants.
Those who worked directly with the gentry had their own servants who followed them in little packs and looked finely dressed. Efficient clicking of heels on the floors and stairs surrounded Rebecca. There was so much to be done and transported through these back hallways; it amazed her. Servants could more easily get to one end of the castle by using these back halls than the main halls.
“Stay close to me, dear. It gets a little rowdy in the kitchens. They’ll plow right over you if you get in their way.” Dally paused in the entry and guided Rebecca to a safe corner. “Let me introduce you to Molly. That’s her, the one with bright-red hair. She does odd jobs for me.”
Molly set down the pot she was carrying when Dally summoned her. She wiped her hands on her apron and bobbed a short curtsy to Dally. A loose strand of copper hair fell from her crisp, white cap.
“Molly, this is my new girl, Sara. She’s never been to the castle before and will be running errands for me.”
“Of course, she’ll get lost at least five times a day and at least two of them in the kitchen.” Molly winked. “On my first day, I went to the pantry and ended up lost in the laundry.”
Rebecca grinned back. She loved the feeling of being taken under this girl’s wing. Molly glanced around the kitchen, looking for something. “My brother is always a safe bet too and easy to find. His hair is every bit as red as mine, and he’s very tall. Sticks out like a sore thumb. He started out in the kitchens but has moved up to a footman, so he knows more of the castle than I do. His name’s Robert.”
Molly nodded at Dally before returning to her pot. “Oh, watch out for Martha; she’s head of the kitchen and has a frightful temper. She makes everyone cry at least once a week. So don’t worry if she sets you to tears too.” The maid’s eyes twinkled as she carried her pot to a plump woman with deep grimace lines folded into her face.
“That Martha?” Rebecca whispered.
“Yes, but she can be very sweet if you stay on her good side,” Dally said.
“That’s where I plan to stay.”
They wandered through the kitchens as Dally introduced Sara to everyone and pointed out where she should go to ask for meals, where to pick them up, and who to give meal orders to.
Most of the staff barely glanced in Rebecca’s direction; they were all busy cleaning, cooking, or yelling. Some stopped and chatted briefly with Dally though. She seemed to be on good terms with everyone, and they all seemed eager to help her.
Their last stop was in the bakery, where loaves of bread were being hauled in and out of the ovens. In the back, Rebecca could see cakes and sweet rolls being made.
A short round man with a couple of days’ worth of stubble greeted them. He was the head baker. “It looks like you’ve finally gotten a little helper.”
Little? Rebecca smiled demurely. I’m seventeen, not five, you fool!
Dally introduced her to the baker.
“I know that it is tempting, but I must warn you we don’t allow pinching of cakes and sweets. Sometimes we allow samples when we are testing a recipe. We dump damaged goods over there in that basket. Otherwise, everything is off limits, except what is served with your meals.”
Rebecca nodded in awe as she watched men and women shaping dough and decorating sweet things.
“I, however, can eat and sample everything,” he said, slapping his belly and laughing. “Dally can get whatever she wants as well. Come to me—my name’s Henry, by the way—and I’ll arrange it.” He grabbed a small powdered cake off one of the trays and offered it to Dally, who chuckled but waved it off.
“It's your lucky day,” he said as he broke the small cake in half. He popped one piece into his mouth while handing the other half to Rebecca. Dark fruit filling oozed out of the center. “What do you think?”
She took a bite, and her mouth was filled with spiced apricots and light fluffy cake.
“Good, eh?”
Rebecca nodded, unable to answer as she finished her luscious cake.
“That is the king’s favorite at the moment. Don’t let anyone know I let y
ou have any.” The baker winked. “Welcome to Ulmer Castle.”
Rebecca nodded in appreciation.
As they walked off, Dally said, “Henry is very strict with his goods unless you’re a pretty young girl. He’s a terrible flirt.”
“Is that why he lets you have whatever you want?”
Dally blushed but said nothing.
They entered the main dining hall. How did she not remember this? She felt herself gaping and was thankful everyone would just think she was a young country girl. She couldn’t let herself do this if she were the princess. The room was huge and set up with long tables in the shape of a square. Chairs covered in Aldo’s coat of arms—a golden wolf’s head—were being stacked in a corner, where they were given a final inspection by a thin man whose dark, sparse hair was pulled back sleekly into a tail away from his bushy eyebrows.
Rebecca watched as various footmen moved at the wave of his hand. Heads nodded in deference to his instructions with no conversation. Perhaps no words were needed. Or perhaps they were all too afraid to speak in front of the head butler, who looked all business and no pleasure. A line of footmen stepped out of the way with a slight bow, letting the women pass.
A blond boy with striking green eyes nudged the tall, fiery-haired boy next to him, who could only have been Molly’s brother. Robert shook his head while the other young man winked at her. Dally sniffed at them as they passed.
“Watch out for the blond one. I hear he can be quite the charmer when he wants.” Dally sent a warning glare that melted the grin off his face. She leaned in so that only Rebecca could hear her next remark. “Remember that if the king were to find that any young man in his employ laid a hand on you, even in innocent flirtation, he would be lucky to only lose his job.”
Rebecca swallowed and eyed the boy with prim outrage. Hopefully, that would discourage him. Robert grabbed the boy’s elbow and directed him toward the dining room.
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