AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The other guard standing outside nodded to him and closed the back of the carriage. His boots crunched grass and stones as he rounded the carriage and hopped onto the driver’s bench to join Carter’s father.
No wonder Carter’s pa was so against him joining the Merry Men: He has his own clandestine affairs that pay more than his soldier’s wage. Making runs to and from Mansfield, delivering people like me and Much the Miller’s Son.
I cursed myself for being so stupid. How had I not seen it earlier? The powder we found in Baron Mansfield’s carriage. An amnestic, Wulfric had called it? Clearly used to numb the brains of the girls they transport, so they don’t recall where they’ve been or where they’re going.
It was truly evil.
In fact, even now, when I looked at most of the faces in the carriage—only now glancing over at me now that the guard was turned away from us—I noticed the blank, hazy expressions on many of their faces.
At least five of the eight girls here could hardly keep their eyes open, and clearly looked drugged or poisoned. They leaned back against the hull of the cheap cart, faces clammy and sweaty.
Sunlight threaded through the slats of the hull, stamping grates of shadows on girl’s faces as the carriage began to move.
This wasn’t a nobleman’s carrier like the ones I had driven in—the ones bought by Uncle Gregory or my father. No, this was a town cart. Little more than a wagon with high sides and a tarp thrown over the top of it. A land skiff made for transporting goods more than showing off wares.
Because we’re being shipped in secret.
My only questions now:
Where are they taking us?
. . . And how the hell can I get out of here?
THE CARRIAGE ROLLED quietly through the countryside for hours. The sun became hotter as it lifted overhead into afternoon. It boiled us and, I had to agree with the crude guard who had put me here, it stank like a farm with untidy horse stalls.
These poor girls, I thought. For all the lasses we saved from the almshouse, there are just as many here in this cart right now.
How many are there I haven’t seen, and will never see?
The anger inside me was so righteous it could have burned this fucking wagon down. I wanted to give my cloak to the girls at the end, shivering off the bench in their nakedness. But I couldn’t move from where I sat, and even if I could, I knew I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.
As long as the girls were fed, they would survive this.
Women were stronger than anyone knew.
Three hours into the ride, I glanced over at the girl to my right. She had been watching me off and on, as if she recognized me.
I tried to shoot her nonverbal expressions: lifting my eyebrows, furrowing them, tilting my head.
The girl looked past my shoulder, to the guard, who had dozed off about three miles back down the road. He leaned against the back door of the carriage, with his hand resting on the hilt of his hip scabbard. His snoring was the only sound in the cart besides the creaking of the wagon’s wheels and the crunching of gravel and dirt.
Steeling myself, I said in the quietest whisper possible, “What’s your name, lass?”
Her eyes widened at my audacity. She bit her lip, clearly anxious.
I nodded my understanding and turned to face forward—facing another girl across from me. This poor lass didn’t want to get in trouble by getting caught speaking, and I felt bad for even trying to pry—
“It’s Maria.”
I gave the girl a sad smile.
Then my smile faltered and lines formed between my brow.
“What is it, miss?” she whispered.
“Do you know a boy named Much? Says he’s the—”
“Miller’s son,” Maria finished. Her lips cracked with a sad smile—likely the first smile she’d shown in days. “We’re from the same household. You know him?”
