AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The hired woman is busy wiping down tables to make way for the late crew about to stumble from their rooms. Watching the action sets a warm memory into motion—my mother in the kitchen, cleaning off the crumbs and scraps of food left behind by her children. Always with a smile on her face. At the time I was her only biological child, but the children she housed were always referred by her as her own. We had little to our name, but it didn’t stop her from doing her part. At the expense of our own comfort on most occasions, our doors were opened to any child in need.
The icy breath of reality knocks me back into my senses, the pleasant glow of remembering bleeding into bitter truth and leaving a chill in its place. I drop a coin on the table. The maid nods her head in acknowledgment of my gratitude, clearly not used to patrons noticing let alone thanking her efforts.
The weight of the sun hits my face as I exit the building, and I throw my hands up against its brightness as my eyes adjust from the murky lodge.
Most of my morning is spent walking the tables at market since I had to cut short yesterday's perusal. Spring and autumn push the limits of the square, vendors and buyers alike swarming the ever-expanding display.
As much as it’s growing, it feels like our pockets are shrinking. How is it possible for our people to look so prosperous, but simultaneously be scraping by? Simply surviving each day, instead of living in moments this good fortune should be bringing in spades?
As I round the corner of the square, my line of sight resting upon the stables, I see three men hovering around a stall— the stall holding Prue. Their red and gold uniforms glimmer in the sunlight.Oh no you don’t.
I almost drop my bag as I move into a full sprint. My heart is pounding, teeth clenched, eyes fixed on these vermin who would dare touch my horse. They’ve already taken so much from me, and I refuse to let them take anything else.
A small notch from the neighboring stall works as leverage, my foot digging into the groove as I leap high into the air. They don’t see me until I land a kick hard into the first man’s back, while my elbow finds the second man’s nose. The third fellow draws his sword while I swing my bag at his head, landing him to the ground, his sword flying out of his grip. I drop and roll away, grabbing the dagger from my boot, landing to survey the damage and lingering threat.
The second man leans his head back, blood dripping down his face— hopefully from a broken nose. Wicked delight fills me at the sight of red, satisfaction bleeding through me. The first man glowers in my direction, and the third walks toward his sword, his eyes fixed on me.
“What in the Four Kingdoms just happened?” the second man says, muffled from his pinched nose.
Typical guard cronies— easily beaten, easily duped. I continue to smile from my position, showing no teeth in the gesture, holding up one hand and waving them forward.I see the first man take a step in my direction with narrowed eyes. He wants this too.Good.
The third man speaks up before the other closes the distance. “Enough, Bowden!” He shouts loudly in the direction of the first man, giving the second one a pitying look before handing him a mostly clean handkerchief.
“We aren’t here to fight.” He looks at me now. A hint of recognition crosses his face as his fierce blue eyes bore into mine—eyes I remember staring up at me just last night.
Seeing him in daylight, decked in his full red and gold regalia, further taints my opinion of him, if that's even possible. “Didn't your mothers teach you not to take things that aren't yours?” I growl between my teeth.
“We don’t want to take her. I promise you,” the blue-eyed guard says.
“I’m not going with you. In case you forgot from last night.” I tilt my head to the side, my smirk directly focused on the man I tussled with not even half a day ago.
His lips are firm, but I swear I see a gleam in his eyes as I remind him of our interaction. “We just want to talk. Right here.” he says, motioning a single hand toward the ground.
“Then talk.”
“We are on orders to find you and were given a description of you and your horse. We were simply discussing who should stay behind with the beast in case you came back before the others returned,” he says.
“And why are you looking for me?” I eye each man directly before returning them to the spokesman, the guard from yesterday.
I need some time to think, a distraction to get myself and Prue out of here. My periphery scans the area, looking for anything I could use to divert and disarm. Something to give me an advantage.
“We are here on behalf of Lady Margaret.”
My scowl eases at the mention of my patroness, and I stop my search for a way out. The guard waits for me to respond. When I simply raise my eyebrows, he continues. “She needs you to come. Immediately.”
“Come where?” I ask. I know where Marg would ask me to meet. But these men could very easily be leading me to a trap. If he says anywhere but the back door entra—
“The back door entrance of the kitchens, at the palace.” I let out my held breath, taking another deep inhale and exhale before I stand up, sheathing my knife back in my boot. Marg has never sent anyone to fetch me before, and our usual meeting is only a couple days away. What couldn’t wait until then?
I stand, walking toward my horse, giving the men no more of my attention.
“Will you go then?” he questions, turning with my movements as I walk to Prue’s stall.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
He eyes me warily. “I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”
“She’ll know when I get there before you and walk through the door.” I glare at him as I untie Prue, mounting her before we’re fully out of the stable. The hard expression never leaves his face, but I swear I see the corner of his lips twitch upward, his apprehensive, surly veil dropping temporarily.
