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Down.
Blackness.
~~~
“This had better be of life and death, Colton.” Reiner Doran, Duke of Wolfbridge, trailed his butler, his long strides stuttered by the elderly servant’s short, stooped steps.
Follow him. That was all Colton had told him, and he hadn’t taken no for an answer. That Colton had even approached him in front of his guests conveyed the direness in his butler’s mind on whatever had happened.
His household ran with nary a bump due to years of Colton’s diligence, but his man could have at least waited until Reiner had extracted the next proposed runs of the ship,The Nettled Ness, from Lord Falsted.
Colton slowed, turning back to Reiner. “It is, your grace.” He waved his wrinkled hand in the darkness. “Almost there.”
Reiner looked out to the forest that abutted the clearing that surrounded Wolfbridge castle. Still. Still and thick, the air. Quiet with only the muted strains of the strings from the garden balcony in the night sky. A sound, almost like a horse nickering, floated through the air from the shadow of the trees. He shook his head.
A trick of the wind. What would a horse be doing in that thick of trees?
He looked forward. Colton was five steps ahead of him, walking around the curve of the tower anchoring this span of the castle.
The second he turned around the edge, he saw exactly why Colton had dragged him away from the party.
One of his footmen, Lawrence, stood waiting in the dark shadow of the castle. At his feet, a lump.
Reiner’s steps sped and he passed Colton. He didn’t stop until he reached the lump.
Except it wasn’t a lump. It was a woman.
“We didn’t move her, your grace.” Colton hurried to catch up behind him. “Lawrence found her and retrieved me. I thought it best to retrieve you.”
Reiner nodded, looking down at the woman. Dressed in black, that Lawrence had even noticed her in the deep shadow she was sprawled in was impressive.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes. Just dead to the world, your grace. Lawrence rolled her onto her back, but beyond that we didn’t move her.” Colton pointed up to the wall of the castle, his unfailingly steady voice not in the slightest vexed. “The best we can liken, she fell from the vines if that bump on her head is an indicator.”
“Climbing…the vines? Whatever for?” Reiner looked up at the vines clambering up the stones of the ancient castle. A thick curtain of greenery, yes, but he doubted a person could use the creeper to climb upon. He reached out, his fingers stretching into the clumps of leaves. Finding a vine, he wrapped his hand around. Thick. He shook it. It didn’t move.
It was possible. But why?
His eyes lifted and scanned the stone wall, straying to the right. An open window. An open window to his dressing room. He’d left it open himself not but four hours ago for the heat of the day.
But that was on the third level. No one would be foolish enough to climb that high on vines, of all things.
“A common thief?” Reiner whispered the possibility, even though he didn’t quite believe it.
“It is what we imagine. What would you like to do with her, your grace?” Colton asked.
Reiner’s look dropped to the woman. The top of her body caught what little light there was in the shadows. The blond hair about her temples was pulled back in a braid, but the rest of it was free from pins, spreading wide about her shoulders. The waist of her dark dress was high, just below the tight bodice, and the fabric spread from her torso with silky ease.
Reiner dropped to balance on his heels and picked up the hem of her skirt. Expensive, silk or extremely fine muslin. She was no ordinary thief.
“Why the black?” Reiner muttered more to himself than a question to his men.
“That’s why we figured she was a thief,” Lawrence said. “The black is all the better to hide in the shadows.”
Reiner dropped the hem, grunting to himself. “Or she’s in mourning.”
He picked up her left wrist. The cream kidskin glove she wore stretched up past her elbow. She wore no glove on her right hand.
