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“What do you mean?” Hanatha demanded, not because she’d misunderstood Marthya, but because her mind refused to grapple with what the maid had just said.
“I mean she never came in at all last night, Milady,” Marthya said even more wretchedly. “I know you said she had permission to stay out all day with Tarith, but I should have suspected something when she wasn’t back in time for supper. But I didn’t—truly, I didn’t, Milady! I lay down, just to nap until she came in, and then, somehow …”
The maid shook her head, and a bright flash of panic flared through Hanatha.
“What’s the hour?” she demanded.
“Barely three hours till dawn,” Marthya admitted. “I just woke up, Milady, and the instant I did—”
“I understand, Marthya,” Hanatha said. She wanted to be furious with the maid, but she couldn’t. Not when she hadn’t made a point of going to Leeana’s room to check on her herself when she and Tellian finally returned from the mayor’s banquet. She should have. She’d known at the time that she should have. Yet she’d decided not to—decided to respect her daughter’s need for privacy.
“Let me get this straight,” she said after a moment. “You’re saying no one in Hill Guard has seen her at all since breakfast yesterday?”
“Breakfast, Milady?” Marthya looked at Hanatha in obvious confusion.
“Yes, breakfast—before she went riding with Tarith!” Hanatha’s frightened worry sharpened her tone, but Marthya shook her head.
“Milady, she told me she and Tarith would be leaving before breakfast. She said they were getting an early start because she pla
“Lord Farith’s?” Hanatha looked at the maid blankly. Farith was Lord of Maldahowe, almost a full half-day’s ride north of Balthar. She’d never agreed Leeana could ride that far from home with only Tarith for an escort! Which meant—
The Baroness of Balthar went paper-white and reached for her husband’s shoulder.
“There’s no question about it,” Tellian Bowmaster said harshly. The sun was perhaps an hour above the horizon as he stood staring out a window at the city of Balthar, his face haggard. “I’ve ordered a door-to-door search through the city, but it’s not going to find her. Damn the girl! How could she do something like this?!”
Love and fear made him furious, and he slammed a fist down on the stone windowsill.
“We don’t—we don’t know for certain what she has done,” Hanatha said. He shot a glance at her, and she shook her head. “Well, we don’t, Tellian. Not really. I know what it looks like she’s done, but there’s no way Tarith would help her run away. Wherever she is, he’s with her. You know he’d never let her out of his sight once they left Hill Guard!”
“I know. I know!” Tellian drummed on the windowsill with both hands, his shoulders tight and his face clenched with worry. “But no one saw them leaving together, Hanatha. In fact, no one saw Leeana leave at all.”
“That’s preposterous,” his wife protested. “She had to have been seen by the sentries!”
“Well, she wasn’t,” he said grimly. “And Tarith was seen leaving—by himself.”
“What? When?” Hanatha demanded.
“The evening before you gave her permission to stay home from the banquet,” he said, and then looked up quickly at her small, choked sound of distress.
She stared at him, her face white, her eyes huge with guilt and fear, and he shook his head sharply.
“No, love!” He turned and drew her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Don’t blame yourself—and don’t think for a moment that I blame you, either! You asked her exactly the same questions, set exactly the same conditions, I would have. You had no more reason to suspect she might do something like this than I would have had!”
“But … but if Tarith left then, and no one saw her at breakfast …” Hanatha’s voice trailed off, and she turned paler than ever. “Lillinara, Tellian!” she half-whispered. “Marthya put her to bed night before last, but how do we know she stayed there?”
“We don’t,” he said harshly. “In fact, I don’t think she did.” His wife stared at him mutely, and he shrugged. “She told the stable master to turn Boots out into the south paddock the day before yesterday. He didn’t think anything about it, and no one told him she was supposed to be going anywhere yesterday. All he can say for certain is that her riding tack is missing, and Boots hasn’t been seen since night before last.”
“But how did she—?” Hanatha chopped herself off, and her jaw tightened in sudden understanding.
“Exactly,” her husband said. “I’ve sent riders out in all directions, searching for her—and for Tarith—but I already know how she did it.”
He shook his head, but though his expression was grim, there was something else in it, as well. Something almost like a pride.
“She knew we’d give her permission to skip the banquet if she asked for it. So she sent Tarith off on some errand before she ever spoke to you.”
“But she promised to take him with her!” Hanatha protested, unable to accept that her daughter had lied to her.
“No, she didn’t.” Tellian shook his head. Hanatha stared at him, and he gri
“But—”
“You said she said she knew she couldn’t spend the day riding unless Tarith did, too,” he told her. “I’ll wager she never actually said she couldn’t do it unless Tarith rode with her. What she meant was that she had to send him riding off on some pretext or another to keep him from stopping her.”
“Lillinara protect her,” Hanatha whispered. “You’re right. She didn’t say specifically that he’d be with her. I only assumed that was what she meant.”
“Just as she knew you would. And just as I would have done,” Tellian said. “But with Tarith out of the way, and your permission to go riding, she knew no one would miss her between breakfast and lunch yesterday. So night before last, she told Marthya she and Tarith had to leave early the next morning for Lord Farith’s. Then, as soon as she was confident almost everyone else was asleep, she crept out of her room, went down to the stable, took her riding tack, and let herself out through the southern tu
Hanatha nodded. Only members of the family and their personal armsmen knew how to find and use the castle’s two secret escape routes. They couldn’t be opened from the outer end without battering rams, and concealment was their best protection, so guards were never posted except in times of high alert.
“So she went to the south paddock, saddled Boots, and disappeared … over thirty-six hours ago.”
“But … but to where?”
“That much I think I know,” Tellian said grimly. “If I’m right, she already has enough of a head start to make overtaking her all but impossible, but I can’t go after her until I know for certain that Tarith isn’t with her. Or that there isn’t … some other explanation.”
His voice wavered on the last three words, and Hanatha’s hand rose to her lips. They stared at one another, paralyzed by lack of information and terror for their daughter’s safety, and beyond the window, the sun crept steadily higher beyond the rain-weeping clouds.