“Be very still now,” I warn her. Before she or Tilde can protest, I reach up, place the edge of my knife against her rich, curly locks, and slice them off.
“My hair!” she cries, one of her hands flying to her cropped head.
“Do not be silly,” I scold her. “It is just hair and will grow back, but it will only get in your way tonight. Yo
u must make people think you are a boy. Which of the pages do you like the most?”
She wrinkles her nose. “None. ”
Good girl, I think. “Then which do you find the most annoying?”
“Patou,” she says, without hesitation.
“Perfect. Pretend you are Patou. Do all the annoying things he does, walk as he does, spit as he does. All those things you must do tonight. ”
She looks at me warily. I lean forward. “It is a game. A trick you must play on the entire palace. To prove that a girl is better than a boy. Can you do that?”
She looks to Tilde, who nods, then turns back to me, and I am relieved to see that some of the fear has left her face. “Yes,” she whispers, so soft and quiet no one could ever mistake her voice for a boy’s.
I turn to Tilde. “Try to see that she does not speak. Her voice will give her away. ” Then I lift my knife. “I must do yours as well. ”
The serving girl does not falter but steps closer for me to reach. “I cannot ever repay you,” she whispers.
“You have only to get free,” I say as I cut her hair. “That is payment enough. ”
An hour later, they are safely tucked up on the seat of the night-soil cart. Odette protests loudly at first. “Bud id stinks!” she says, holding her nose.
I glance slyly at Tilde. “I warned you you might not thank me, but it is the only cart that leaves during the night and can get you into the city without question. ”
“It is fine,” Tilde says through the scarf she has brought up to her face to cut the smell. We stare into each other’s eyes for a beat, and the gratitude I see there warms me, makes me think there is some small sliver of good left inside me. I reach out and grab her hand. Squeeze it. “Be strong. Once inside the city, take yourself to the convent of Saint Brigantia. Tell them—tell them the abbess of Saint Mortain has asked that they grant you sanctuary. ”
Tilde’s eyes widen at that, but before she can say anything, the night-soil man calls out, “You gonna gab all night or can I be about my business?”
“Hush—you got your payment,” I remind him.
He spits off to the side. “Won’t be worth nothing if I don’t get out of here. ”
True enough.
As I watch them leave, I am filled with a nearly overpowering need to follow them. Follow them out of the stable yard, past the guard tower, and into the streets of the city, where I can lose myself among the crowds of people. I take one step, and another, then stop. If I go with them, d’Albret will send a full contingent after us. Tilde and Odette’s chances of escape are much better without me.
Besides, I was sent here to do a job, and like that last knight who held off d’Albret’s men this afternoon, I will not leave the field until it is done.
I have not been in bed but half a turn of a glass when the scratching at my door begins. It is soft at first, no more than the whispering of leaves in the wind or the creaking of branches against the wall. I hold still in my bed, listening more closely. There it is again. This time more distinct. My heart begins to pound, and I lift my head from the pillow.
Scritch, scritch, pause, scritch, scritch, scritch.
It is Julian, using the secret code we devised when we were children, a dozen lifetimes ago. But it is not a child’s game he wants to play tonight. I burrow farther into the mattress and pull the covers up over my ears, then hear the muffled rattle as he lifts the latch. I hold very still and keep my breathing even, praying that he will close the door and move on, relieved when he does.
Even so, the scratching follows me into my dreams and turns them into nightmares.
Chapter Four
I AM AWAKENED IN THE morning when my two ladies in waiting come bursting into the room. Jamette de Lur leads the way, pausing barely long enough to keep the door open for Tephanie Blaine, who struggles with a tray.
“Did you hear?” Jamette asks.
She is a vain, silly girl given to drama and putting on airs and takes far too much pleasure in my fall from d’Albret’s favor. “Good morning to you too,” I drawl.
Reminded of her place, she flushes slightly, then dips a begrudging curtsy. “Good morning, my lady. ”
“What is this news you are screeching about?”
She is torn between denying that she was screeching and launching into her drama. The drama wins. “They rooted out a nest of traitors and rebels yesterday! If not for their quick action, we could all have been slaughtered in our beds. ”
So that is the story d’Albret and the others are putting out. There is a faint rattle as Tephanie sets the tray down on a table. “Also, a servant girl went missing during the night. ”
I throw off the covers and get to my feet. “My, the castle was busy while I slept! Surely this servant just snuck off to visit her lover?”
Tephanie looks at me with stricken eyes and I see that she is genuinely frightened. “They searched the castle high and low and found no signs of her. ”
Jamette tosses her head and hands me my chamber robe. “Some say she was in league with the traitors. ”
Débile! I should have seen that coming. I was so concerned with getting them away as soon as possible I didn’t stop to consider the timing.
“I heard she was killed for seeing something she shouldn’t have,” Tephanie says as she gives me a cup of heated wine.
My head snaps up to study her more closely, but she does not appear to be insinuating anything. “Where did you hear that?”
She shrugs. “The servants were talking when I fetched your tray. ”
I say nothing and sip the wine, taking a moment to compose myself.
Jamette’s eyes go wide. “Mayhap the ghosts got her. ”
I bite back a sigh. Must I give up sleeping altogether in order to stay abreast of what goes on in this castle? “What ghosts?” I ask.