Chapter 13
Riley and his family were escorted back to their long abandoned home, under the careful gaze of a squadron of soldiers. I decided to make my trip into town to see the seamstress. It was that or become reacquainted with my father. As awkward as that would be, I didn't know if I could trust myself not to skewer him after seeing how he treated his prisoners. I knew for certain that Wolf was seething and I had to grab a handful of his fur to keep him back.
El jefe's flesh had never been so tempting.
It was market day so there were more townspeople mingling. They ventured out despite the light scattering of snow that dusted the dirty streets and the constant Iberian patrols. Goods and wares were scarce as merchants were kept out of the fief for fear of news spreading. It would reach the capital eventually, but el jefe wanted to make that time frame as long as possible. Only local businessman had stalls open, mostly selling freshly baked pies and sweet delicacies. Wealthier farmers with children and half frozen soldiers lined up. Apparently the raiding and pillaging days were over and the Iberian's had to keep the townspeople happy.
News of the battle spread like wildfire, stoked by the servants who had been cleaning away the evidence. The sound of steel upon steel from the castle would have floated into town, but with ships of soldiers occupying their port, only a fool would have breached curfew to have a look.
It was well known that curiosity killed the cat, or in this case, the nosy town folk.
The archers had been fatal to Caraway's cause and most of the dead had bled out. Even those killed with a deadly slice during the battle had multiple crossbow bolts piercing their bodies.
Today there was an unmistakable tinge of crimson to the moat that had flowed down the Slipsunder and into its tributaries. The archers had grossly overcompensated during battle and they were already calling the last stand of Baron Quinn and his men the Bleeding of Caraway. The once great fief had been down, but now all the life had been pumped out of its heart.
The generally amiable chatter soon soured, as voices lowered into whispers. Hearing that their Baron was captured, dashed any burgeoning hopes for freedom. The mood became gloomy and bleak, to match the overcast clouds that blocked out any sign of the sun.
The people were suddenly on edge, huddling into corners when the soldiers passed and trickling back home. Riding through in a carriage certainly fostered attention and quite a few people stared my way. I purposefully kept the heavy curtains opened so that they could gawk all they wanted. It pained me to do so. I was breaking every single Ranger rule and the icy wind was biting my face. I forced myself to stare right out the window as if everything I was witnessing was beneath me. I was the daughter of the man who held them all hostage in their own fief. I was Iberian nobility.
I was the enemy.
The driver stopped on the side of the road. Looking out I noticed the sign overhanging the small entrance to the seamstress's store reading 'Mistress Danielle's'. I wasn't entirely sure if I just knew what it said, or if somehow I had read it for myself. Even so, there were two mannequins situated just outside the doors clothed in bright cotton dresses. It was probably the cheapest material that the store kept being such a bright pink that I actually wanted to shield my eyes. The seamstress wouldn't leave expensive cloth where it could be easily swiped by thieves.
"Like you?" Wolf asked.
Too late I realised that not long ago it had been me. If the streets were empty it would be easy enough to take the dress and disappear into an alleyway. The difficulty would be the tiny buttons. Endlessly fiddly. Never a good idea when you had adrenaline coursing through your veins and the threat of capture looming. It would probably be easier to take the entire mannequin and then dump it later.
I shook the thoughts away and scoffed. "When would I ever steal something in that garish pink colour?" I crinkled my nose looking at it. I would tear such a dress to shreds and go to a ball in a dirty tunic before being seen dead in such a colour.
"And if she only stocks pink?"
"I shall personally see to it that the entire store is burnt to the ground. It is an abomination."
I stepped out and loitering ladies moved closer to catch a glimpse of the girl from the carriage. Noticeably, there was no one outside the store itself. In times like these when there was no way to trade produce with other fiefs, every penny was precious. There was nothing left to waste on pretty ribbons and silken white gloves.
Two particularly nosy teenage girls looked like they would follow me into the store, but stepped back when two soldiers hopped off the back seat of the carriage and stood guard at the door. I had my sabre and knives with me but my father had insisted.
Inside I was reminded of why I had hated this place as a child.
It was crowded and suffocating and I immediately had the urge to run outside and take a deep breath of fresh air. There was material flung everywhere and colours upon colours that my eyes were darting in every direction. Samples of buttons sat inside glass topped cases next to porcelain beads. I wondered how Mistress Danielle had managed to source her material. My mother used to swoon over the hand painted beads. People must be more ready to part with their hard earned money for a handful of rubbish than I thought.
I decided that this was worse than stepping into battle. At least then you had weapons to defend yourself.
As the stout woman rushed towards me, I willed myself not to throw a knife. She was not the enemy. This was not a battle. It was merely a dress shop and I could do this.
Yet when she got closer and her true intentions became known, I couldn't stop my hand from unconsciously resting on the hilt of my sabre.
"Darling!" she gushed, taking me into her arms and mushing me against her bosom. She held me there for a good half a minute as I struggled to free myself. If that woman had been at the battle, I would have bet a jar of honey on Baron Quinn to win.
She finally released me and it took all my strength to try and breath evenly instead of collapsing on the ground and taking in great gulps of air.
"I remember when you were yea tall," she said holding her hand to her waist. "But haven't you grown! Such a beauty, just like your Ma!"
Mistress Danielle's young protégée stopped cutting material at the counter and scrutinised me for a whole agonising minute. I shifted my weight from one foot to another, feeling extremely uncomfortable, but she curled her lip and continued with her work.
"Her body shape is quite lean. More like a man I would think." That voice filled with scrutiny and laced with a thick accent. I immediately recognised it and shouldn't have been surprised to hear it at the dress shop.
"Silvana," I spat, turning to see the pirate lady smirking at me as she ducked out from under the changing curtain. She was still tightening her corset to a point where I wondering how she could breathe, much less wield a weapon. Then she pulled a tight shirt over her head.
"Lady Monique." The words that left her purple painted lips were dripping with disdain.
I took in her figure hugging clothes, high boots, the two sharpened knives strapped to her sides and finally that death-bringing steel rapier. She didn't even try to hide the fact that she was a woman. She wore bright cosmetics and left her auburn hair long. How had she managed to earn the men's respect? The fact alone should have scared me and sent me heading for the hills. They all cowered in her presence. Maybe I should have too.
Even more concerning were those obsidian eyes. It was like she knew all your secrets and could easily slip them past those thin lips at the wrong moment. I had a feeling that she had known exactly who I was the moment she laid eyes on me. She was Iberian and if she had known my mother, it would have been an easy connection. Too many people had told me in the last few days that I was my mother's spitting image.
"You knew who I was, didn't you?" I accused. "And you were going to kill me anyway."
"Did I." Silvana put a hand on her hip and cocked an eyebrow. I wanted to punch that stupid face and shave off that eyebrow with the sharpened blade of my saxe.
But then I remembered who I was and couldn't keep the smirk from spreading across my face. I could do a whole lot worse than that.
"How would Señor Romero feel when he finds out that his beloved daughter was in such danger and from a mere soldier at that," I threatened. Silvana was much more than a mere soldier and was probably only a few levels down from my father himself. If I expected her to hiss or growl as the insult, I was mistaken. She was much better than that.
"He will be irritado but will never kill me. I am the best teniente he has."
Lieutenant or second-in-command I learnt later. Silvana was not some mere capitan or mariner, she was my father's right hand woman.
I hated that self-assurance. She had toyed with my life that day on the ship and I was going to make her pay.
"You held a rapier to my throat."
"You look like Lady María. She and I don't have the best history. José would understand."
I stopped for a second. Who the heck was José? Then it hit me. That was my father's first name. She called my father by his first name?
Not señor. Not el jefe. Not Sir, but José.
"Sí, we are on a first name basis," Silvana said, her lips curving into a smile. She knew that she had confounded me and was taking great pleasure in it. Unlike her, I couldn't hide my feelings so easily. I wanted to smack that smile off her face. She was infuriating!
"I am his flesh and blood."
"And I am the woman who he chooses to spend most his time with."
She didn't mean? No, she couldn't. My father wouldn't dare. He had never been on the best terms with my mother but that was out of the question. If he had so much had thought it, my mother would have killed him. Not physically, but socially. When she was done with him he would be a social pariah and she would turn around and marry a prince of some exotic country and flaunt her royalty in his face.
The smirk spread and I knew she was lying, just trying to rile me up. I decided to ignore her and she slinked away, knowing that her fun was over.
I turned back to the seamstress who was holding her hand over her heart and looked like she was about to faint.
"Oh my poor darling! To think she held a weapon to your neck," she fussed. She held her arms out getting ready to welcome me into her arms once again.
Yeah, I wasn't going to let that happen.
I ducked backwards and then towards the cabinets of beads, opening the glass doors and running my fingers over the delicate pearls, to the horror of the protégée.
"These are delightful," I said, my voice taking on that annoyingly high lilt that I remembered my mother using whenever she was being overly effusive.
"And those navy and gold beads from Arridi will compliment your complexion exquisitely, Lady Monique," Mistress Danielle said. She forgot her fretting at the prospect of securing another customer.
"Shall we measure you up m'lady," the protégée asked, taking out a piece of measuring string. The face I made must have been quite dreadful because she suddenly seemed less enthusiastic.
"We can have new dresses custom made in a week," Mistress Danielle said.
"A week?" I said, my patience running thin. "Isn't there any way you could do it faster?"
If the seamstress was taken aback, she didn't show it. She must have been accustomed to dealing with a demanding clientele.
"A week for an entire wardrobe of clothes custom made. You can choose the material and beading for each item. We even had some enchanting Gallican lace come in on the last shipment. As thin and light as a feather. You're the only customer I've offered it to so far. Only the best for Lady María's beautiful daughter."
"It's too long. I need new clothes now," I all but demanded, letting out an impatient sigh.
"We have some wool that I've already beaded and patterned, Mistress," the protégée said quickly, rushing to the storeroom. She came out in a minute with piles of soft cloth.
"Wonderful Lori!" Mistress Danielle exclaimed, clapping her hands together once. "We can have some tunics prepared by tomorrow and dresses by the end of the week."
"What colours would you like m'lady?" Lori asked. I let out a careful breath and brought my fingers to my temples. I could feel a migraine coming on.
"I trust your choices. You know my complexion and what my mother would have chosen. I would like tunics and cloaks and woollen gloves and the finest leather boots. Then dresses. I want some by tomorrow and the rest by the end of the week," I ordered.
"How many exactly?" Mistress Danielle asked carefully.
I dropped the leather bag on the counter and could almost read the greed in the girl's eyes. She was fortunate. She was most likely the daughter of a farmer who had lucked out and become the protégée of a seamstress. Every day she could surround herself in finery and at least touch the things that other girls could only stare at from afar.
"However much this can buy and if necessary charge an extra to my father. And for the dresses use that Gallican lace and your finest beading," I continued, feeling exorbitant.
"What about for spying?" Wolf asked, reminding me that I couldn't go sneaking around corridors in a scarlet red tunic.
"Also make a few tunics and cloaks in neutral colours without too much decoration," I added.
The girl busily noted everything down. Mistress Danielle began measuring me before I could object any further.
"Is there anything else m'lady," the seamstress asked as I finally made my way to the door. One of my 'guards' had been demoted to official shopping carrier and made his way out with a number of wrapped parcels.
Just in time I remembered. "No pink. At all."
"But it will look lovely on you with a lil bit of rouge on your cheeks," Lori said with a parting smile.
I glared back. "Don't you dare."
That shut her up quite quickly.
† † †
Everly sat beside me, quickly devouring her plate of beef and vegetables. I had insisted that she have a long, hot bath in my own bathing chambers. A maid had brought soaps and scented oils that I made her use as well. Sitting in a fluffy robe I had then presented her with some parcels that Mistress Danielle had made up. I had estimated the girls size but I thought the pre-made dresses would fit nicely. Now dressed in a light blue that matched her eyes and with her hair braided back, Everly hadn't spoken a word to me other than a curt thank you.
"How was the afternoon with your family?" I asked between mouthfuls of potatoes.
"Nice," she replied, cutting her meat. Thankfully the meat was tender and it didn't take much strength because those skinny arms were so weak that I was concerned they might just snap.
"It was cold today," I stated, failing miserably at polite conversation. What should I say to her? I didn't want to talk about what had happened to her. What if she started crying? I couldn't deal with crying people.
Yet again, Wolf was my saviour.
Abandoning all his fierce and wicked ways, he placed his head gently on the girl's lap and gave an adorable whine. Extremely adorable. The type of whine that had won me over all those years ago. Then he stared up at her with those wide eyes and for the first time I saw a smile take over her features. Her entire face lit up as she ruffled his fur.
"Do you like dogs?" I asked.
"I like nice dogs," she replied.
She looked uncertain for a second but then continued. "Before everything, Pa used to raise dogs. The type that farmers use for their cattle. It was his hobby and it was fun because we could play with the puppies."
"You can play with Wolf all you want. He usually doesn't have anything better to do," I said and Wolf playfully snapped at me. Everly giggled.
"Do you like the food?"
"It's very good and warm. I'm sorry if I'm being rude and gobbling it down. Mama would scold me," Everly said, putting her fork down self-consciously.
I replied by spooning more of the crispy potatoes onto her plate.
"You can eat as much as you want when you're with me," I encouraged. She started to disagree but then the golden tinge of the potato skin proved too enticing.
A strong gust of wind caught on one of the shutters, flinging it open. Immediately the room was flooded with swirls of ice. Everly shuddered and covered her head with her hands. I ran to close the stray shutter and made sure to lock it tight.
"I don't wanna go back. I don't wanna go back," Everly was repeating over and over. I swallowed. What should I do?
I stepped closer and slowly put my arms around the girl. She was shuddered as she hugged herself. I expected her to push me away but she didn't and instead leaned into my warmth.
"I'll never let them put you there again Everly. I promise."
"But where will I sleep. I'll be alone again and they'll take me to that dark hole," she cried. What had el jefe done to her?
I turned her around and showed her the giant four poster bed.
"It's big enough for both of us. If anyone wants to take you, they'll have to go through me. And then they'll have to go through Riley and your Pa. And then they'll have to go through Wolf." Wolf gave a menacing bark.
"You're safe Everly."
She looked up at me with those clear eyes that matched her brothers. In that second I knew that she trusted me and I prayed I wouldn't let her down.
† † †
"How is she?" Riley asked. I closed the door to my chambers gently, so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. We walked through the hallways, just talking but with no real destination.
It was well past midnight but neither of us could sleep. Everly had been snoring very loudly for a tiny girl and I had a million thoughts running through my head. When I had stepped outside to get some fresh air, Riley had been sitting outside my door, half dozing. I had smiled at the sight. He wasn't going to let anyone take that girl away either.
"Resting."
"Thank you again for doing this."
"Any decent person would. How could I leave her in that horrible place?" I said. "Sorry again that she can't be completely free. It was the only thing I could think of."
"It was the best you could do," Riley answered. "And I know she'll be safe with you." I knew she was safe with me, but I was el jefe's daughter and I should be the last person Riley trusted.
"But I'm his daughter," I objected.
Riley didn't say anything but waited until we exited the keep. In the open air and with the constant noise of patrolling soldiers, we wouldn't be overheard if we spoke in lowered tones.
"I don't believe that you're a loyal Iberian subject," Riley said.
"Riley, he's my father and those are my people," I replied. What a dismal spy I would be if I fell at the first person questioning me.
"I didn't know what you were doing when you changed the trajectory of that knife. You were going to be Araluen's hero, but then something changed. If you were truly Iberian's daughter, then you would have killed Baron Quinn instead of saving him for some half-baked reason. I wasn't entirely sure but then when you freed Baron Quinn's wife and Everly I knew. Somehow you're trying to help from the inside. Maybe you'll feed information to Halt and the other Ranger's and Prince Edmund. I'm not entirely sure how it's going to work, but I know that you are definitely loyal to Araluen, or at the very least the innocents mixed up in this mess, my mess."
I was taken aback by his speech. Was I really that obvious? I was the worst spy ever. Discovered after barely one day.
But I raised an eyebrow. "That's quite the theory you have there."
"Look, I don't want to hand you in or anything. I want to help you," Riley said, putting his palms out in a gesture of surrender.
"I spent years working for him, trying to keep my family together. But the entire time it felt so wrong. Yes, I was saving my mother and sister but deep down I knew that they'd probably rather die than have me become a traitor on their behalf. The war will be coming soon and now that they're out of that dungeon I can think about getting back at el jefe," Riley explained, his eyes pleading with me.
"I don't want to be a traitor anymore. You don't know how hard it is to live with the stares people give to me. The Araluens glare at me for forsaking them while the Iberians jeer that I was so easily turned over to their side." He lowered his head, utterly dejected.
I understood where he was coming from. It was the same fine line that I was trying to cheat. But did I trust him enough to tell him? I guess that even if he did tattle on me to my father, I did hold more cards than him. I didn't think he was lying either. He was pleading with me, not merely asking. They were the pleas of a broken man looking for a way to redeem his good name before he died.
"Fine," I relented. "I am working for Araluen but I swear to Gorlog Riley, if you even think about telling anyone – including your father – I will cut your tongue out before you get the chance."
"Noted," Riley said with a smile. "So partners?" He led me up the side stairs and onto the battlements. It was dark but there was a lot of light from the lamps and fires that were lit at intervals. I was surprised at how many men were at duty this late at night.
I snorted. "We are not partners. I am in charge."
"Are you sure? What about that whole equality argument of yo…" Riley started, but I cut him off with a sharp jab to the ribs.
The drawbridge opened as an Iberian patrol returned back to the castle. It appeared like a normal enough occurrence and maybe it was only my brief Ranger training that had me questioning a few things from this distance. All the men were wearing red surcoats. Most were mounted but some riderless horses trailed behind on lead reins. The horses were mostly plain brown but one was midnight black and stirred a memory. Half a dozen men were on foot with their spears facing a man in the middle. His arms were bound and he stumbled a bit as he was poked and prodded.
When they clattered over the drawbridge a trumpet sounded three short bursts, rousing activity on the battlements.
"What does the trumpet mean?" I asked Riley, who was also staring into the courtyard curiously.
"Three bursts means they captured a prisoner to be questioned."
I ran down, with Riley at my heels.
There was something about that black battle horse but I knew it was impossible. There was no way it could be the same horse, or that his rider could be here. He would never come this way for me.
The prisoner was shoved forward and staggered until he fell on his knees. With his hands bound so tight he struggled to get back up on his feet but eventually managed. As soon as he was up he straightened with his shoulders back and his head held high.
I took in the Iberian uniform worn on top of glistening chain mail – made at the hands of the finest blacksmiths and nothing like the armour which common foot soldiers wore. The sheath for his sword still hung at his waist but was empty. His hands were bound with strips of leather and while he was at the centre of el jefe's operations there was an air of hope around him. The cold wind ruffled through his dark hair as his determined features took everything in.
He turned and when those intelligent emerald eyes met my own, I lost function for a second.
He was here.
The bastard was here.