I am soooo sorry, my readers!

I have lost track of time and Emma.

I will write more, I promise.

Emma started to work harder than usual of the next few weeks. She didn't want another awkward moment between herself and Conall. Another kiss might ensue; she couldn't handle that right now. And she needed to focus on her work. She really wanted this now: the chance to protect her country. Not many lower class women got this spectacular chance, and she knew this. She wasn't about to let this slip from her fingers because of laziness. Her permanent instructor and supervisor, Conall, could see the improvement. She carefully watched him through her eyelashes as she went through her routine of thrusts and kicks. He was as silent as ever, but there was praise in his eyes. She hoped that was what it was.

This new work was hard on her body. She would gently, ever so gently, lie down on her bed at night. She didn't want to upset her aching joints anymore than she had to. But she could feel this ache slowly fading away, turning into muscle. The physical difference was brutually noticable too. She felt like a man with these new bulging muscles. This was an exagerration, since they weren't that big and most women had muscles from the manual labor they did. Still, Emma eyed them with curiousity as she dressed in the morning.

Work at the tavern hadn't changed much. Samara and Ellen didn't comment much on her drooping lids and more toned body. Their secret looks were enough to signal that they suspected something. Which was the last thing Emma wanted; she didn't need questions or alerted people. Being a spy was about the exact opposite.

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"I'm so sorry," Emma gushed as she grabbed her try from the table. Ellen just crossed her arms over her bosoms. "It's fine," she replied wearily, as if she had suspected this to be happening. "It's isn't like that Ellen," she begin to explain. "It's just momma needed me this…" She trailed off with a sharp look from Ellen. She mumbled to herself then took a rag to wipe a table off. It didn't need it, but the task just felt like a habit. Looking up suddenly, she noticed an odd occurance. The room was quiet and empty. Samara noticed her look and said, "They're havin a meeting upstairs. Something important." She rolled her eyes, hoping to get a laugh about men. Bu Emma felt like the wind had been knocked from her. She dropped the rag unconsciously.

The Rogues were holding court upstairs. The Rogues she was supposed to be spying on. She needed to get up there fast, but she knew that would cause suspicion from her fellow workers. Her anxiety grew as the seconds ticked by. What were they saying up there? A plot against the king maybe? Her hands began to sweat and she clamped them together harder than she should have.

Her breakthrough moment came a few agonizing minutes later. The men were yelling and pounding on the floor. A tired looking Ellen came out of the back kitchen with a tray filled with alcohol. "The King demnads me," she said wryly. I bounded forward, trying to be inconspicuous but failing. I took the tray from her hands. "I will take them," I told her, trying to pretend I was doing an act of pure kindness. She let her take it, but not without a suspicous look.

Her hands shook as she knocked on the firm wooden door. It so offset her mood right now; the irony of that thought made her grin. A gruff round of 'Come in' was the answer to her knock. She set her chin and strode in, trying to act normally. As her tray was set down, she glanced around. The room looked secure enough; this meeting was definitely an important one. But an odd fact stuck in her mind. Only the door and windows were protected by the rogue's magic. Apparently, the mages weren't strong enough for a whole silencing spell.

Emma, her mind calculating, shook the door without much thought. She had to find the inn's attic. She might be able to hear through the cracks in the building's thin floors. It was her only chance she saw, without scaling the walls and peering in. Even that was a ridiculous thought.

Her head and heart were pounding as she climbed up the stairwell. She was going as quickly as the quiet she needed allowed. The upstairs was not an attic as she supposed; the floor contained empty rooms, never used. She slipped down the hall. The room she needed to be in was the second from the back. The door creaked when she opened it, and her heartbeat quickened. She knew the men downstairs could not hear such a trivial sound, but the danger was there all the same. She carefully kneeled onto the floor, her quick eyes searching for a crack.

Found it! A small hole a few inches from the far wall. She laid her body down beside it, her ear covering the opening. Sound filtered in, but it was hard to her. She had to strain and quiet her breathing to hear distinct words.

"Clifton holds our…"

'Why should we defend such…"

"Only hope…"

Different phrases being nothing to her drifted in and out. She knew Clifton was fief to the north, along the Scanran border. At least this was something to go on. The men's voices grew hushed now, as if they were finished talking. Her time was coming to a close, she knew, because Ellen and Samara would miss her soon. If only she could catch something else. But the men would not yield anything new; the meeting was drawing to a close.

Emma hurried down the stairs. She needed to get downstairs before the men came outside of their room. They would definitely be suspicious of a girl hanging about their room. She didn't need them brought down upon her.

She need not have worried. The rogues were still drinking, and no doubt would be until the early hours. She sighed with relief and let her heartbeat go down to a normal pace. Downstairs, her two friends were leaning against the tables and talking.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes, yes. I just got a little caught up in there," she said tiredly, letting the think of something that hadn't happened. Samara, she knew, would remember what it was like to be hit on. It was an easy excuse for a delayed return. "May I leave early? You know mother isn't feeling so good," she asked politely. Ellen nodded, waving for her to hurry. Family was more important than work.

She didn't waste time headed out. She needed to process her information, and more importantly figure out how to tell the spymaster without raising suspicion. Her work was cut out for her.

Suspense, maybe?

Thanks to my reviewers.