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CHAPTER 7
The next night, I enteredthe streets alone again, moving like a ghost.
Dressed all in black and wearing a hooded cloak, I wasn’t particularly concerned about my own safety or about being recognized. For years, I had roamed the castle and the city alone without a mishap. After my father’s death, I had quickly learned no one cared what I did or where I went. But the group of hunters who were struggling to provide food for their families and for those in need–their safety did concern me.
Once a week, a signal was arranged and posted on a pillar near the largest market. It told us when and where to meet and, as with last time, sometimes even what we’d be hunting so we could be prepared with our chosen weapons. This was my third time seeking out the details of the next hunt. I didn’t expect any trouble, but even so, I was armed with a dagger as always.
The city was surprisingly quiet even though it was only early evening. Shops were being closed as I walked past. The last traces of sunlight had fled the sky and the stars were emerging. As I reached the marketplace, it was already empty. The stalls and tents stood dark and silent against the backdrop of the starry sky. The light of a few torches cast eerie shadows across the cobblestones.
I walked quietly across the square. In the center stood a large stone fountain, with a statue of Zorya in the midst of the spraying water. Around her was a pile of fruit and vegetables–the bounty of the goddesses. In the flickering torchlight, the goddess’s eyes seemed to find mine, watching with an uncanny intensity.
The night was peaceful. The square was quiet. This should have made it easier for me.
Yet I felt an unshakeable sense of unease.
I spotted the column. Even from this distance, I could see the red cloth that tagged the paper pinned to its surface. I picked up my pace and jogged towards it. I’d scan the paper, then return to the castle where my supper and a mug of medicine were awaiting my attention. The plan seemed simple.
But when I reached the pillar, a bearded man stepped out of the shadows.
“Baudwin!”
The older hunter’s face was more lined than I remembered. His expression was solemn, no trace of the jovial, encouraging man I remembered from the forest.
“What are you doing here?” I was more concerned for his sake than mine.
“Princess Morgan,” he said, his voice low. “I must speak with you.”
I stared back at him in shock. He had learned who I was. This couldn’t be good.
“Come this way,” he urged, tilting his head to gesture at the dark alley behind him.
Not even the stars illuminated it, for the open arched roof had been covered with a canvas cloth. The alley was lined with empty stalls where merchants put out their wares during the day. The canvas had been put up to protect their wares from the rain.
I hesitated, tendrils of warning threading over my skin.
“Quickly,” Baudwin insisted. “You and I must speak.”
“I only need the location...” I muttered, glancing at the paper on the column. It was so close. I could read it and run.
But Baudwin was the leader of the hunting group. If he wished to speak with me, I had to comply. Perhaps having learned who I was, he no longer wished for me to join them. I could understand that. If I was simply drawing attention to the hunters, bringing more danger down upon them, then I would agree to withdraw. I would find other ways to help. Or to put some kind of pressure on Arthur.
“Do you wish for me to cease my participation in the hunt?” I whispered. “I will understand if that is the case, Baudwin.”
“No, that’s not it. Please, follow me.” He glanced behind him nervously, and I wondered if someone else was back there. Another hunter from the group?
“Does someone need my help?” I asked, taking a step towards him.
