Lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed anyone coming down the corridor. I kept my promise—I hadn’t sought him out. And now here he was, mere paces away.
Ready to end him, I gripped the dagger, tugging it free of the sheath, prepared to strike—when Sainte’s teeth sank into my ear. Pain lanced through me, and I jerked my head to the side.
He bit me!
Fury ignited, and I snapped forward, biting down on the first thing I found. His sharp intake of breath confirmed I latched onto the curve of his neck, andI held firm, not letting go as the voices faded down the hall. My fleeting chance passed me by.
Sainte growled low in his throat and wedged his fingers between my teeth and his skin. At the same moment, I yanked the dagger free.
“Togamar’s light, Ellie! He’s gone!” he hissed, his breath teasing my hair.
I muttered a slew of foul curses and snared a fistful of his tunic. I wanted to hit something—hurtsomething. Preferably my brother, but I could settle for Sainte.
“Come,” he urged, then guided my hand to return the dagger to its place.
A frustrated growl crawled past my lips. Rage and helplessness churned within me, that angry, vengeful creature gnawing at my insides.
He pressed against the door, giving me much-needed space. He glanced down the corridor before yanking me out, placing my hand firmly on his forearm. Without a word, he moved with quick strides, dragging me along. At first, I thought he was taking me to Lyana’s room, but relief washed over me when we passed it. He opened the door to my chambers, startling the maids inside.
“Oh! We’ll be heading out–”
“You, stay,” Sainte commanded a girl covered in soot from the hearth.
Her jaw dropped, not just from shock at his order, but because he singled her out to remain behind. Her fellow servants cast worried glances her way before bowing and darting out the door.
He latched it after them and turned to the girl, her soot-streaked hands clasped nervously in front of her dress. Her wide eyes pleaded with me for salvation or, perhaps, feared damnation. I almost laughed at her silent anguish. Sainte wouldn’t harm a dock cat without cause, but she didn’t know that.
“Strip.”
I spun on him, shock evident on my face. “You order my servants about now?” I asked, voice pitched high. What was he playing at?
He waved me off. “You as well. She’s about your size. Trade dresses.”
Providing no further explanation, he headed to my sleeping chambers. I turned my frown on the maid, who watched him with her jaw still hanging open. She was thinner than me. Royal food added some cushion to my frame, something I would have appreciated in the slums. Now, staring at her dress and imagining myself squeezing into it, I grimaced.
“I’d be happy to fetch you a dress!” the maid offered, her voice urgent.
“The one you’re wearing!” Sainte called from the other room.
A small thrill ran through me, and a smile tugged at my lips. “Best we do as he says,” I said with a shrug.
My Valahant was promising an adventure.
Soot covered me from head to toe.
Not just my clothes, but every inch of my skin. Sainte gathered fistfuls of ashes and rubbed them into my hair, dulling its blue sheen. He smeared it across my face with rough strokes and made my hands look filthier than the maid’s.
We left the poor girl in my rooms, with strict orders to bar the door and not leave until our return. Practically in tears, she sat draped in my pale green silk dress.
Sainte wore an aged and tattered tunic, paired with brown trousers. His armor and ax remained behind, replaced by a single, wicked-looking sword at his hip. Draping a dark cloak over my shoulders, he led me through the halls to the servants’ quarters. There he pilfered a servant’s cloak with a flawless skill that sparked my jealousy.
We hurried out of the castle, hoods low and heads down. My peridot green eyes, an unmistakable mark of my lineage, were a constant risk of exposure, so Sainte insisted my hood stayed up to avoid unwanted attention. I followed him across the bridge and into the city proper. After an hour of walking, we reached a quiet tavern.
The inhabitants of Wynterborne worked by daylight, and so in the winter months, when twilight fell sooner, villagers sought refuge in the warmth of the taverns. Though, being midday, the sun lingered high in the sky, covered by clouds, but it offered enough light for laborers to continue their tasks.
Sainte shoved the heavy door open, letting it swing shut just in time for me to catch it before it collided with my face. The air within, while warm, was stale, tinged with the lingering scent of ale and old hearth smoke. The faint crackle of embers added a subdued calm to the space. I kept my stare fixed on his broad back, squinting against the feeble light filtering through the windows.
I stuck close to his heels as he nodded a greeting at the barkeep. His weathered face betrayed a hint of suspicion as he observed us with a cautious gaze. We chose a secluded table, far removed from the only other patrons. The young men were armed to the teeth with an arsenal of unfamiliar blades and weaponry. They sipped at their mugs, dipping their chins to show they noticed my stare.
