Page 128 of The Turncoat King
At least she could take some comfort in that.
“I’ve been trying to get the palace to grant me an audience for the last two days so I can hand her over to the Queen’s Herald. I haven’t had time to coddle her.” Rangar’s voice was indignant.
“Well, you’ve got the audience now. I suggest you do something to make her look like you haven’t been abusing her for the last week.”
The sound of shouting and horses filtered through into her cell, all the way at the back of the barracks, and Ava forced herself to keep relaxed and still.
Her cousin had arrived himself.
She should have guessed he would be too impatient to wait for her to be brought to him.
The captain of the guard realized it, too. He looked panicked.
“Where is she?” The Queen’s Herald’s impatience could be heard in every syllable.
“My lord.” Rangar had stepped out into the passage. “I am the one who found her. She is here.”
He was shoved aside and there was Herron. Looking a little more dissipated, a little more seedy than when she’d last seen him.
She hoped the scar on his side still gave him trouble.
“Ava.”
“Herron.” She leaned back against the wall and took him in.
“How long has she been here?” Herron turned to the captain of the guard accusingly.
“Two days. Captain Rangar apparently approached your steward three times about her, and was told not to waste your time.”
Ava had wondered who would be sacrificed for the greater good of the captain of the guard’s career.
“My steward?” Herron’s rage was icy cold.
He’d probably told the poor man he wasn’t to be disturbed, Ava thought.
“I recognized her immediately, Herald.” Rangar had stepped back into the room. “And I did everything I could to make sure I got here with her.”
Herron flicked his gaze over Rangar, sizing him up.
He would know a liar when he saw one, being such a prolific liar himself.
“You did your duty, captain. Well done.” He gestured to the cell door and the captain of the guard unlocked it.
“Did she have anything on her?” Herron suddenly remembered she had teeth, and leaned against the door to keep it closed.
“Just a gray cloak and a knife,” Rangar said. “I think they took them from her when they put her in the cell.”
“Where are they?” Herron looked around, and there was some low, fierce whispers as the captain of the guard stepped out.
“They appear to have gone missing.” The captain of the guard was sweating when he came back.
Someone had stolen them, perhaps, or it was some kind of perk of the job to be given the prisoner’s belongings.
There was a handkerchief in her cloak pocket, which she’d taken off the dead soldier at the ninth cannon nest, along with her scarf. She knew the scarf would only work for her, but she wondered about the handkerchief. Hopefully, whoever held it would feel nothing more than the desire to head home.
“Missing?” Herron gave a smile. “Who was in charge when she was brought in? And why didn’t they recognize her?”
She recognized that smile. He wanted to make someone pay for not bringing her to him sooner, and his steward wasn’t in front of him right now. He followed the captain of the guard out, and she closed her eyes until the screaming stopped.
