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"I'll have the chamberlain put out traps." A small sigh escaped Rietta's patrician nostrils. "I fear I've been gone too long for propriety and must return to the great hall. Concerning Guerrand, you must do as you think best, my husband."
Rietta wore a tight-lipped, triumphant smile as she watched her husband's port-fogged mind ponder her words. She knew he would do it, had already decided to, but would not admit it to her so readily. She knew all too well how to persuade her husband to do what she wanted. She had but to provide and plant the seed. Cormac himself, with the aid of port as fertilizer and desperation as sunshine, would make the notion grow.
As she slipped from the room and do
Hurry, hurry, hurry! Kirah screamed inwardly, as if willing her feet to move faster in the cramped confines of the crawl space outside Cormac's study. Kirah knew as Rietta did that Cormac would do as his wife suggested. The young girl had gasped aloud when she'd realized it. Thank Habbakuk they'd attributed the sound to rats. She'd started crawling when Cormac headed with purpose toward the door of his study. She knew with certainty that he was not en route to the privy.
This is a thousand times worse than I'd feared! Kirah's fevered brain cried. I'd hoped he'd be safe because he was still unsuitable. Grieving, guileless Guerrand wouldn't even suspect why he was being summoned to Cormac's study again until it was too late to escape.
Scrappy Kirah had known from the moment she'd heard of Qui
Kirah had hoped that Berwick would produce an unheard-of son to marry to Honora. She knew now that she'd only fooled herself, because it was what she wanted to think. Besides, she hadn't thought about Cormac having to pay a dowry.
It had been a most informative, if uncomfortable, couple of days. Cormac had allowed the DiThon finances to decline further than he'd led anyone to believe. A lot further. The normal costs of ru
Scrambling on her hands and knees around a turn, still in the same clothes she'd been wearing when the news of Qui
Right now, Kirah cared only about reaching the viewing room before Cormac, or his messenger, could get there. The problem was, no direct route led through the network of tu
Reviewing the maze in her mind, Kirah decided to take a chance. She could cut the time significantly if she exited in the dining room, crossed that room in the open-even though there was a chance she might be spotted-then entered a second passage that led to the great hall.
Scrambling quickly down the narrow chimney that passed between floors, Kirah pla
After that she resolved to tell him what she'd overheard. It would not be difficult to persuade him to run away with her to Gwy
The more Kirah thought about it, the more she liked the idea. Guerrand could even use his magic to help her pilfer the biggest purses. She and Guerrand would become runaways like the characters in her favorite tales. Guerrand himself had sent her off to sleep countless times with bedtime stories about notorious mountebanks and swindlers and rogues, traveling adventurers who lived by their wits and magical skills rather than force of arms. Even honest, moral Guerrand couldn't help but see that it was their fate.
She knew the highest hurdle to overcome would be Guerrand's ever-ready sense of guilt. He would definitely feel guilty about ru
Kirah came to a section of tu
Castle DiThon's servants had witnessed her comings and goings for years and never spoken of it beyond the kitchen, far preferring the scrappy little miss to their lord. They would not have lied directly for her-punishment for that would be swift and brutal for the servant's entire family. But Cormac never thought to ask them. He considered the servants to be as mute and mindless as mice, further evidence of Cormac's unsuitability to run a castle. As if she needed proof. Kirah scoffed, amused that she knew more about what went on in the keep than did her brother, Rietta, or their doddering old chamberlain.
Narrow, flickering swatches of torchlight danced across the tu
Kirah gritted her teeth as she swung the heavy iron vent back into place. Swiveling around on the ball of one foot, she peered out from beneath the sideboard. No one looked to be about. The servants must be between deliveries of platters, she thought. Kirah sighed heavily at the scent of food already placed above her for the feast. Her stomach reminded her painfully that she'd eaten too little for several days.