Conte's Secret
Chapter 3
"Lasha!" Serrina slid off her mare's back to the hay-strewn ground, her dagger in her hand though she knew the battle was over even before she took the secret passage behind a stack of hay, to get into the cold kitchen where the fireplace was black with soot and a dead maid was sprawled across the ground.
Tears filling her eyes, she turned the maid over, straightened up and went up the stairs. Already defeat had taken her prisoner: the house was hollowly resounding her footsteps and it felt like a dead house, visited by the plague.
"Lasha," she called more forlornly.
"Too late milady," an older servant said, backing out of Lady Lasha's room. "She died not ten minutes ago. I'm sorry, milady."
Without another word, Serrina went into her twin's room. It was the room of a high lady: Lasha had regularly scoffed at Serrina's habit of thievery, teased her mercilessly and threatened to throw her to the provost's men. But they'd loved one another still: protected each other.
Lasha's lips were very firmly sealed: Serrina knew Lasha hadn't spoken a word to the enemy. In fact, she'd probably not known what the enemy was after.
She kissed her sister's closed cold eyelids, touched her hand and left the room.
"Milady," Lasha's main servant said sternly, brandishing bandages. "You're injured."
Serrina nodded.
"Then come along," the servant ordered. "I shan't have your sister's—" a tear leaked from both their eyes "—bless her soul, shan't have her carpets smeared with your blood."
As Serrina sat at the kitchen table and peeled off her shirt, the servant, Dora, informed her straight-forwardly of what had happened. Two hours ago, men had come. They'd killed the maid, pushed Dora out of the way and barricaded themselves in poor Lasha's room. Then they'd proceeded to try and get information from poor, angry Lasha. Dora didn't say that she'd heard Lasha scream many times. Serrina just knew.
"What now, milady?" Dora asked, subdued now, as she sponged Serrina's wound.
"I'll get a healer as soon as I've checked on my liege," Serrina said. Her eyes were darker with grief and shock.
"And I'll inform the provost?" Dora said. Her voice shook.
"And then you escape," Serrina said. "Go to your sister's and keep very quiet about this. I need to find who these men are. Whether they like to keep all witnesses quiet."
"Good luck, milady," Dora said, subdued, as Serrina Sneak got up and tiredly went to the door, her side freshly bandaged, she pulled her torn, bloodied shirt on, went to her mare. Moments later, the child of the wind's hooves clattered across the courtyard and Serrina streamed out into the night again.