My plan had been to exit over the wall of the courtyard, and from there into the old wood, but as I neared the wall I heard the unmistakable sound of boots pacing on the gravel on the other side. I crouched low beside a cluster of giant hostas, listening. From the voices and footsteps, I could tell there were multiple guards. Looking up at the wall, I knew that going up would be no problem, but once I was on top of the wall, I would be completely exposed.

The risk was too great. If I got caught again, I knew it would be for the last time; my parents would be back soon and would have no problem putting me in the dungeon, I was sure of it.

So, I doubled back across the dark courtyard, and headed for a side door that led into the kitchens. From there, I could get out through the fields that abutted the north wall. The corn would be high at this time of year and I could use it for cover. But first, I thought to myself as I hustled from shadow to shadow, I had to get out of the castle itself.

I climbed through a window into the supply pantry, dropping into a crouch to listen. The servants had long since finished their dinner, and I didn’t even hear the sound of dishes being washed. I was as sure as I could be that the way would be clear. I had only been down here a handful of times, but I knew my way.

There was a door, opposite the big cooking fire, that led straight out into the kitchen gardens, and from there into the open fields. I could almost feel the stalks of corn parting for me as I ran. I was so close, so close. All I had to do was make it out. And so, with my heart thumping in my chest, I chanced it and emerged into one of the hallways that led down toward the main kitchen space.

There was nobody to be seen. A few hanging lanterns lighted my way and I walked quickly toward the far end of the hallway. The sound of a voice somewhere made me jump; a conversation, not close but still somewhere in the warren of hallways and rooms that made up the working quarters of the castle.

A pile of full potato sacks caught my eye and I seized a large one, hoisting it over my shoulder as I’d seen delivery men do hundreds of times. The potatoes smelled earthy and the burlap scratched the skin on the side of my neck as I carried the sack along. But if anybody saw me, they might just think I was a servant boy who’d been told to shift them.

Hopefully.

A handful of steps and I was there, in the main cooking area. The door was at the far end of the room. Just a few more yards and I’d be gone.

But as I stepped through the doorway, I saw a man seated at the massive pine table. A big man, with blurry old tattoos running the length of his huge forearms. An empty growler of ale sat in front of him, with a grubby glass, foggy with dirty fingerprints. By the low light of the fire, I saw his fingernails were nearly black.

I knew at a glance that he was trouble—one of the men from the coal mines who delivered the coal in the dark of the night. Almost all of them were convicts, assigned to hard labor.

I was so surprised to see him that I stopped and let out a gasp. A very feminine, very fearful gasp.

Oh no.

The sound of my very un-boyish voice jolted him out of his stupor and he rose, thrusting back his chair and stumbling toward me. His heavy, pronounced brow line made it difficult to see his eyes in the low light. But his body told me all I needed to know. I’d blown my cover. And I was in big trouble.

He stepped toward me. Even from a yard away, I could tell that the growler of ale wasn’t all he’d had to drink that night. The sharp smell of corn liquor wafted from him, stinging my nose and eyes.

With one swipe of his hand, he pulled off my cap and my hair came tumbling down. I could see instantly that he recognized not just my gender but my identity. “It’s you,” he said slowly, his liquor-thickened tongue slurring his words. “Princess Pussy herself.”

Shit, shit, shit. I backed up slowly, and as I did I tried to reach for my dagger, but he seized me by the wrist and thrust me up against the mantel. I felt the heat of the low-burning fire against my backside as he forced himself up against me.

Tags: Dani Wyatt Fated Royals Romance
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