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“Oh bother,” a feminine voice muttered. “No way in God’s name am I going to be able to carry all this by myself.”
Curious, I ducked my head out from under the bush, but it was impossible to see anything through the darkness, and the woman—whoever she was—wasn’t carrying a torch.
Blowing out a settled breath, she stood without moving before she timidly called, “Farrow?”
My eyes flared with shock. But had she just said…?
I must’ve misheard her. No way could she have said my name.
Except she repeated it a little louder and with more certainty this time. “Farrow? Are you out here?”
She stumbled uncertainly in my direction before pausing and exhaling through a small gasp, as if surprised. “Yes, you’re definitely out here. And close,” she revised, talking more to herself than me before she lifted her voice. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just me, Nicolette.”
Nicolette.
My entire system buzzed with a mixture of danger and delight: danger because this had to be a trick. Somehow, the Donnelleans had learned of my mission to steal their princess, and they had sent out some imposter as bait.
But also delight, because what if it wasn’t a trick?
No, you’re right. It had to be a trick.
“You can come out from wherever you are. It’s okay. I made sure I wasn’t followed. W
e’re quite alone.”
Definitely something a fake princess would say if she wanted to lure her Far Shore kidnapper into the open so the three hundred guards lying in wait could tackle him to the ground and kill him posthaste and without prejudice.
Her shuffling came closer until she must’ve tripped and stumbled across something in her path.
“Ouch. Damn, I never realized how uneven these bloody woods were.”
Aha. A princess would never swear like that.
Except, I often heard Bricklynn—Sable’s older sister—curse worse than sailors at port, so of course, the stranger’s language was no way to discern who she really was.
Hell fire.
The pretender was coming unbearably close, though, and heading straight toward me.
Weird. Could she somehow hear me? I wasn’t doing anything to make a sound.
When she plowed into the bush I was hiding under, I winced through her cry of pain. And then I believe she toppled backward and hit the ground.
“Ow, ow, ow. That hurt. Bush. There was a bush there.”
Before I could stop myself, I said, “You okay?”
Shit. Why had I asked that? I shouldn’t have spoken.
In answer, she screamed. Or more like yelped.
“Oh my God, you’re right there,” she said through the dark, panting a few times before she calmed herself enough to add, “Of course you’re right there. I knew you were right there.”
Maybe it was my princess after all. She talked in that same daft and confusing way as the girl I remembered had.
Against my better judgement, I rolled out from under the bush. If anyone else was out here with us, they would’ve come running at her first sound of distress. Wouldn’t they?
In any case, no one else was checking on her. So I did.
