Chapter
27

Aodren

IN THE LAST FEW HOURS SINCE I MADE IT TO MY secret room, I’ve rubbed my fingers raw by reaching so many times for the loophole window slits. At any sound of voices or horses in the stable yard, I look out, hoping to glean information about Jamis’s next move.

Death carts covered in big tarps leave the yard, assumedly carrying the bodies of the slain noblemen and -women. Soldiers come and go. I sit in my stench and try to memorize their faces so later I don’t confuse one of my loyal men with a traitor.

Time is running out. My best bet at finding a change of clothing, which I desperately need, is the servants’ quarters, because they’re less likely to be guarded. No hidden passage leads there, but there are a few passages I could use that will get me close.

The moon isn’t full, so my journey along the parapet is marginally less noticeable. Or so I hope. Crouched down, I scuttle to the north tower, shaking my head the entire time at the situation. A king, fugitive in his own home. Ludicrous.

Once I reach the second level, I backtrack through the suites that have servants’ passages connected to their garderobes. Attendants typically travel in these passages to clean out the privy.

The north tower is quiet as a tomb. Only the steps from a guard near the bottom floor can be heard now and then. To ensure he’s not alerted to my presence, my descent is slow, each step achingly measured until I reach the second level.

I press open the door and it squeaks.

A thousand curses run through my head as I rush out of the stairwell and into the hall, knowing the guard surely heard. I reach a suite. Back the direction I came, someone calls out in the hall. I sneak through the door and open the next one that leads to the passageway behind the privy.

Seeds and stars, the stench. My sympathies go to the castle workers. I cannot imagine anyone would stomach this job for long, and yet I’ve heard men value this position. Madness.

I squeeze along the servants’ walk and take the steep stairs downward.

When I reach the door that leads to a small yard, I pause and press my ear to the wood.

I hear nothing. The servants’ quarters, protected by the exterior walls of the castle, are similar to the guards’ training yard in that they’re bordered on one side by a cliff. It wouldn’t be feasible for enemies to attack the castle from the servants’ quarters so this area of the castle is typically unguarded.

I’m counting on it.

I push through the entry. It’s a relief to find no one waiting or watching. A small stretch of grass spans from the cliff to the castle wall where thatched roofs sit atop stone quarters. There, all the windows are dark.

I’m not sure how many servants made it through the attack. I’m not sure if those who did are loyal. But though it seems as if no one is around, all the unknowing fuels my caution.

Though I’ve spent years sneaking around my own castle when I don’t want to be seen, it still requires effort. It’s a balance of weight and movement. It makes me more fully appreciate the grace Britta engages to hunt stealthily in the woods.

I pass the first few doors, thinking that if someone was still loyal to me, though hiding in these quarters, they would most likely pick the door farthest from the castle to stay low. It may be faulty reasoning, but it makes me feel marginally smarter about my choices.

The window beside the last door shows no signs of movement inside. Never having actually broken into someone’s living space, I cannot help but feel invasive as I twist the latch and open the door.

Thankfully, it glides without a creak. Some of the pressure in my chest dissipates. A few embers burn in the fireplace against the wall adjacent to the door. Across the room, old quilts cover three modest beds. Two of which have bodies occupying them.

My pulse kicks harder under my skin. I’d hoped no one would be here. At least they’re sleeping. I step in, rolling my feet heel to toe, slow and quiet, as I cross to the small wood closet with doors cracked open and a peek of clothing showing through.

There, I slide out a pair of trousers. Though they look a tad large, they have a drawstring so they can be tightened. Keeping one eye on the sleeping forms, I back into the darkest corner and change quickly. I’d go in the yard, but if a guard was to look over the wall at the servants’ yard below, that would be my death. With the trousers in place, I slip on a servant’s tunic and then put on my belt under the garment to hide my weapons.

“Who are you?” A squeaky whisper catches me unaware.

I freeze, and then slowly twist around.

A small child with braids lining her face peers at me from one of the beds.

Gods, I pull in a breath so sudden and sharp, my lungs burn from the stretch. I press my fist to my forehead until I can breathe normally again.

The little girl twists her fists into her eyes. Many of the men and women who serve in the castle raise their small families here, but I hadn’t given children at the castle any thought until this very moment.

“Why are you wearing Pa’s shirt?” She winds her hands into her blanket. “Yours is better.”

I crack an uneasy smile. Shhh, I mouth, finger at my lips.

The streak of moonlight coming through the window paints her curious face in blue-gray hues. Fury fires through me. She can be no more than six or seven years. I’m tempted to wish, for her sake, that her parents are sympathizers with Lord Jamis. Then could this little girl be safe. But it would only be for a time. After my forces take back Castle Neart, the traitors will be gathered and punished. The law calls for it. Which means children like this one will be caught in the melee. It makes me ill considering she might be left an orphan either way.

Peace will not be found on either side, even when it’s over. Not for a long time.

Mouth dry, I step back, moving to the door, not sure what else to say. I glance at the bed beside this girl and see the long dark braids of a woman. Perhaps the child’s mother. I don’t want her to wake, so I sneak back the way I came, steps careful.

The girl’s raven eyes follow me to the door. She quirks her head to the side and I wave, a gesture to let her know I’m leaving. She waves in return and yawns before lying back down.

Hopefully, she’ll think my visit was a dream. Etched into my brain, her innocent features follow me down the stairs to the ground floor, along the main hall, and to the arcading passage that leads to the dungeon.

I’m ashamed to say I don’t know all about what happens in the depths of the castle, though I’ve heard horrible stories. My anger flares brighter at myself for being so remiss as a king. I vow it won’t happen again. If we make it through this, I’ll be the king Malam needs.

I will return in force.

I will take back my castle.

I will free the innocents caught in the rebellion.