by Erin Beaty
Including me, Sage thought.
Ash stood from where he’d been crouching, probably checking the mare’s hooves. “I can take care of myself.” His voice rang with confidence and authority, so different from the way he spoke to her.
Casseck wasn’t cowed. “Not against a hundred and thirty men.”
Sage stifled a gasp.
Ash snorted. “They’re not all in one place.”
Sage’s brow furrowed. Were they surrounded? No wonder Quinn didn’t want anyone to know. Darnessa would panic.
“All right, then, ten,” Casseck conceded. “You’re good, but you’re not that good.” Ash clenched his jaw and swept a brush over the brown mare, making her shiver and stamp with enjoyment. Casseck patted her withers as he continued. “We can’t afford to lose anyone, least of all you. From now on, all patrols should be at least two men; three would be better.”
Ash shook his head. “We don’t have the manpower to spread out that much. It makes us vulnerable.”
“We’re already vulnerable,” Casseck said. Before Ash could protest again, Casseck stepped closer, putting a hand on the brush to make Ash pay attention. “I mean it. No one goes out alone anymore, especially you. Your father would kill me if I stood by and let you act this way.”
Yes, listen to Casseck. Sage wished Casseck were in charge rather than Quinn. He obviously cared more about the safety of his men.
Ash turned his face to glare up at the lieutenant. “I think you’re forgetting who is in command here,” he said slowly.
Sage needed to step in before Ash got into trouble. She moved around the wall, making enough noise that they wouldn’t think she was sneaking. Casseck’s eyes flashed to the opening as soon as she was visible, and Ash stiffened with his back to her. After looking to Ash’s face for a long moment, the lieutenant pulled his hand down and hooked his thumb in his belt. “I’ll speak to the captain. He’ll make you see reason.”
Casseck stepped around Ash, heading for the stall door. Ash pivoted to watch him go, eyes settling on Sage as Casseck passed her with a polite nod and disappeared. She hovered at the opening as Ash studied her with an unreadable expression before turning back to the horse. “How long have you been there?” he growled.
She might as well admit it. “Long enough to hear some things of interest.” He said nothing and continued brushing with swift, angry strokes. Her temper rose to match his. “I didn’t come to spy on you, if that’s what you mean. I came because I thought you’d be hungry. You’re welcome.”
“And now you know who I am,” he snapped. “Congratulations.”
Her anger evaporated. He hadn’t wanted her to know. Quinn probably made him hide it—he could gather more information as a commoner. “You’re the king’s son,” she said calmly. “I’ve known since yesterday. I won’t tell anyone.”
He stopped brushing and leaned his forehead on the mare’s flank. “You know this habit of yours is really annoying.”
The venom in his voice didn’t match the relieved slump of his shoulders, but he was upset, so she kept her tone neutral. “And which habit would that be?”
“The one where you go around digging up everything you aren’t meant to know, hearing what you’re not supposed to hear, forcing everything to the surface that should be hidden.” Ash twisted around to look at her accusingly. “All the while deceiving me about yourself and your purpose.” He spun back and flung the brush into a basket with a clatter, startling the mare from her dinner.
He exhaled heavily. “It was bad enough thinking you were going to be wasted on some rich, pompous old man. But I’ve read your book.” He crossed his arms and turned to glower at her. “You’re not in there. Not as a bride. Not as a Broadmoor. You don’t exist. Yet you stand in front of me now, playing the concerned lady. This morning you were dressed and riding like a man; last week you played at being a teacher. The question is, who will you be tomorrow?”
She lowered her eyes. “I’ll be your friend.”
“I have friends. None of them gives so little and takes so much as you do.” He advanced a couple steps and took the tray from her hands. “You can leave now.”
He’d known for days she was lying—maybe from the beginning. If Quinn had suspected her of spying or being connected to the 130 men around them, Ash must have put a great deal of effort into trying to prove him wrong, finally breaking into her room to clear her name. Yet he still didn’t know who she was.
And she couldn’t tell him.
“Good night, Sagerra Broadmoor,” he said. There was a finality in his voice, an unspoken Good-bye.
He only wanted the truth, and as her friend he deserved it.
“Sage,” she whispered.
“What?”
She squared her shoulders and forced her eyes up to meet his. “My name is Sage.”
His dark eyes held hers for several seconds, waiting, but she couldn’t find her voice.
“And what comes after Sage?” he prompted gently. “Not Broadmoor.”
“Fowler,” she whispered. “My father was a fowler. Lady Broadmoor is my mother’s sister. They took me in when he died.”
“And now?”
She dropped her gaze. “I apprentice with the matchmaker. I’m her assistant.”
“How does she pay you? By getting you a rich husband?”
“No, of course not.” A deep flush crept up her neck to her hairline. “I don’t want to get married.”
“Ever?”
“Ever,” she replied firmly, peeking up again.
Ash’s eyes shifted at a noise behind her, and he lifted the food to show Lieutenant Gramwell. “I’ll be right along, sir,” he said. “I was just thanking Lady Sagerra, as she was so kind to bring this.” He bowed to her over the tray, seeking to meet her eyes one last time.
“I hope you’ll ride with me tomorrow, Sage Fowler,” he whispered.
34
DUKE D’AMIRAN READ the hasty dispatch from Baron Underwood with widening eyes: Prince Robert was in the escort group. The message also confirmed what they’d learned from the courier: General Quinn’s own son was leading the unit. Inwardly the duke kicked himself for not questioning their prisoner about Robert, but he’d assumed the man would know nothing useful on that front. It didn’t matter, however, D’Amiran knew now. Both the king’s son and nephew would be under his roof in a matter of days. He couldn’t have planned it better.
Originally the plan had been to let the Kimisar in the south kidnap Prince Robert and carry him through the Jovan Pass so General Quinn would send a significant part of his force in pursuit. Those Kimisar would’ve headed north and back through Tegann Pass, and then both passes would be sealed, trapping many Demorans on the wrong side of the Catrix Mountains. Divided thus, the western unit of the Demoran army would be easier to defeat with his own forces now gathering. Then the Kimisar were free to ransom the prince back to Tennegol. Or kill him—D’Amiran didn’t care.
The duke called for Geddes and updated the captain on the situation as he wrote a letter to his brother at Jovan, instructing the count to send their Kimisar allies through the pass without the prince. D’Amiran had assumed it was Rewel’s incompetence that made his brother unable to find Robert, but it was because the prince wasn’t, in fact, with General Quinn in the south. For all the thrill of knowing the crown prince was coming straight to Tegann, it was a slight complication. If the Kimisar didn’t have a kidnapped Robert with them as bait, the general would send fewer of his soldiers in pursuit, but D’Amiran was too excited to worry about that.
“The prince is traveling under a false name,” he told Geddes. “So that may mean the escort perceives a threat, which is all the more reason for us not to frighten them. I won’t have them panic—my prizes may be damaged. In any case, I want a look at young Quinn. They say he’s just like his father, though I’d hardly consider that a compliment.” It was morbid curiosity that drove him there.
D’Amiran folded the letter and held the stick of wax to the c
andle on his desk. “I also wonder why the general assigned his own son to this mission.”
“Do you think it’s to spy on you, Your Grace?” Geddes asked.
Those coded letters—still untranslated—told him General Quinn trusted no one. “Undoubtedly. But he could also be trying to get the prince back to the capital, which may mean they have informants we need to weasel out. At any rate, we can’t tell Captain Huzar about Robert. When you patrol out to the pass next, say only that Robert is on his way. Once we have the prince, perhaps we can force the Kimisar to support us just a little more before we hand him over.” He might need them now, when his army faced Quinn’s.
“I’m not sure we can trust them, Your Grace,” the captain said, running a thumb along the scarred edge of his ear.
D’Amiran chuckled as he sealed the parchment. “I know we can’t. But this famine and blight is in its third year. Kimisara will trade anything for food, and so they will do what I want.”
Geddes brushed his brown hair down over his ravaged ear and held out his hand for the dispatch. “I’m prepared to retrieve your prizes myself.”
The duke shook his head as he handed the letter over. “Relax, Captain; in this position we cannot lose.”
“What of the soldiers escorting the brides?” Geddes asked, tucking the letter into his jacket.
“They’re of no concern. At the moment they keep me from having to bring the women here myself. If things go badly in the south before we can march, there will still be time to turn on the Kimisar here.” He chuckled. “We’ll be heroes for saving and returning Robert. Maybe we’ll even let the escort soldiers help, though perhaps young Quinn will meet with a fatal accident. If nothing else we can stretch them for information. Leave them unmolested for now.”
35
MOUSE LAY ON his cot in the barracks, too full of thoughts of Starling to sleep despite his weariness. What had possessed him to push her like that? He tried to tell himself it was only because she would never be comfortable until she could be herself. In truth, it was the strain of his own deception that made him take foolish chances. He’d almost ruined everything, hadn’t realized how much he’d be losing until the moment he told her to leave.
But she hadn’t left.
Sage Fowler. He’d known her name, but hearing her say it had been a gift. She trusted him. She wanted to tell him, just like he wanted to tell her.
Then she stood there, blushing her freckles out of existence as he pushed further, demanding what he’d needed to know. Her answers had sparked relief. And disappointment.
He groaned and rubbed his face. He’d been lucky so far, but he was afraid sooner or later those gray eyes would disarm him completely at the worst possible moment.
36
SAGE LAY AWAKE in the bed she shared with Clare, thinking of the relief on Ash’s face when she’d told him her name. He knew she’d lied and she wasn’t a lady. He knew she was nobody.
And he still wanted to be her friend.
“Sage?” murmured Clare in the darkness, startling her. She’d thought her friend was asleep. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone’s talking about you.”
“Who’s everyone?” Sage asked.
“All the ladies. They watch you and say awful things. I don’t know how to defend you.”
Sage frowned. This could mean trouble. “Are they keeping it to themselves?”
“Yes, they’re afraid of Darnessa. They don’t talk around her, but she knows. She told them you do nothing without her permission.”
Sage shrugged. Father always said gossip was for small minds. “Then you needn’t defend me. If I cared what people thought about me, I’d—” Sage broke off. She’d been about to say she’d be married, but it seemed a little indelicate considering where Clare was headed. She cleared her throat. “Where were you when I came back this evening?”
“Oh.” Clare shifted. “I went for a walk with Lieutenant Gramwell again.”
“Again?”
“We’ve been walking every day after dinner, but tonight the soldiers were busy with something, so we went later than usual.” There was a long pause. “Do you think that’s improper?”
Sage smiled and reached across the bed to squeeze Clare’s hand. “Not at all.”
37
HE ALMOST SIGHED in relief when he saw her eating breakfast at dawn with the servants outside the kitchen, dressed for riding. He sidled up to her on the bench and presented her with a large, ripe strawberry. “Good morning, friend,” he said in a low voice.
Sage took it and peeked up at him shyly.
“I want to apologize for my anger last night,” he said. “I was tired and being rather unfair, but I’m glad to finally understand your place in all this.”
“There’s no need for apologies. We both act under orders.” There were no biscuits left in the serving bowl, and she offered him half of hers. “From now on I’ll make my own choices, though I know you’re less free to do so.”
He accepted the biscuit, brushing his fingers against hers. “I get the feeling you’re used to making your own way.”
“You can thank my father for that.” Sage smiled sheepishly.
He’d give anything to have met the man. “I look forward to hearing more about him today.”
Her eyes shone out of her pale face. “I look forward to telling you.”
Casseck wouldn’t let him ride after yesterday’s patrol. The lieutenant had been sly enough to present his case at last night’s meeting in front of the officers, and the captain was forced to agree all patrols would have at least two riders from now on. At least he had pleasant company. And true to form, they were barely on the road before she started asking questions.
“Can you tell me what happened yesterday?” she said. “I wanted to ask about it last night, but we were interrupted.”
The worry in her eyes was gratifying, but it was misplaced. They hadn’t heard from the forward picket, so he’d gone to find him. It turned out he was only sick from a place he’d passed through a few days ago. The illness wasn’t fatal to anyone, but it was … inconvenient, and it had slowed him down.
“It wasn’t dangerous or even that exciting,” he said. “A town nearby is under quarantine. They had some sort of dead animal in their well and the sickness spread quickly, but as long as we avoid the water in the area, we should be fine. It was worth investigating, though.”
“What kind of malady is it?”
He hesitated. Sage wasn’t squeamish, but he didn’t feel like describing two days of diarrhea and vomiting. “A passing affliction I’d rather not detail to you, proper lady or no.”
She caught his meaning. “A passing affliction?”
He chuckled at his unintentional pun. “Yes.”
“Wouldn’t that be handy to inflict on your enemies?” she mused.
He abruptly reined in his horse to stare at her. Sweet Spirit, it was brilliant.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, pulling back on her gray mare and glancing around.
“No, just … that’s a hell of an idea.” They could cripple Tegann on their way out. Maybe even the army to the south.
“Really? I was only joking.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Wait here. I need to talk to Casseck.” He wheeled his horse around and waved to his friend. After a few minutes’ conference, he returned to Sage’s side and gave her a pointed look. “You must say nothing about this.”
Sage shook her head. “You have my word.” They watched two riders and a dog run ahead. Cass was already putting the plan into motion. “You can take credit for the idea,” she said.
“Nonsense. If it does what I think it might, I’ll get you a commendation.” He bent his head and looked over at her. “It would make your father proud.”
She ignored his deflection. “You avoid calling attention to yourself when you do well, but accept blame even when unnecessary.”
He shrugged. “I give credit where it’s due.
”
“I think you’d make a good officer. Have you ever thought about it?”
“You’re not the first to bring it up.” He shook his head. “But my brother’s a lieutenant. I can’t be the same.”
“The prince,” she murmured. “You don’t want to compete for promotion with him.”
“Exactly. He’s got it hard enough. I’d rather support him.”
“I understand the desire,” she said. “I just wish you wouldn’t sell yourself short.”
“And maybe I don’t want a commission. It chains him to nothing but duty for years.” He pointed to Cass and Gramwell, riding a few yards ahead. “See them? How they have to act all the time? Compare that to me, here with you. This is freedom they don’t have.”
Sage eyed him sideways. “You don’t fool me, Ash Carter. You’ve got ambition and a natural command presence. But I admire your sense of duty and honor.”
His face burned as he looked for a way to change the subject. “Speaking of honor, if your parents were married, and your father was a fowler and not a peasant, why did they name you Sage?”
“They liked the name, I guess.”
“Not buying it,” he said, looking ahead with a hand over his eyes to block the late-morning sun.
“It was Mother’s favorite herb. Father said she’d fry leaves and eat them straight, especially while she was … when she was expecting me.” She smiled a little. “Then when I was born…” Her voice faded and she dropped her eyes.
“When you were born…,” he encouraged.
Her freckles faded as she flushed. “Father said I smelled sweet and had soft skin, like sage leaves. Once he said so out loud, no other name would do. And sage is for wisdom and knowledge, which were important to him.” She bit her lip before continuing. “It has healing qualities as well. More than once Father said I was the only medicine that could ease the pain of Mother’s death.” She picked at her fingernails. “I like it.”