Vern added, “It would give us time to scout the area. Perhaps we can find his trail.”
The possibility that Castien had passed through this town was enough to make her pause. Then other possibilities surfaced – that he'd been captured in this very town, soldiers had takenhim to the castle, he’d been chained by slavers – or perhaps he had succumbed to an injury and was lying dead in these grasses.
Her father would be satisfied with that last outcome. His suspicions hadn’t lessened in the slightest.
Reeling in her wild imagination, Anais nodded. “Fine. One night. And, my lady, if I hear one more complaint after this, I will cut out your tongue.”
Perhaps Castien was no longer in town, but he might have been. They needed to confirm his route. They needed disguises and provisions. Her impatience was set to the side – for now.
Just over the hill, the town appeared in the distance. The night had been fairly peaceful. Zara had worked into the dark, cleaning and stitching by moonlight. Pelios’ yawning on the road betrayed that he'd kept the maid company. By the maid’s shy glances, he was back in her good graces.
The group’s tentative peace was one less concern. Plenty of others crowded for attention. The maid reminded her of Madeline, and any thoughts of her friend led to the man riding beside her. Jerome was her match with any weapon. She needn’t worry for him. However, he didn't seem to approve of Pelios’ distraction. If the rebel captain wasn't too infatuated with the maid, he was competent and trustworthy.
Mostly, she worried about Vern, who had ended more lives than all of them combined.
The town was small, perhaps a few dozen homes and several nearby farms. Ash was good at staying out of sight so as not to alarm the villagers. As they rode by the farms, the people hardly spared them a glance. Either travelers on the road weren't uncommon, or perhaps they had the appearance of soldiers guarding a lady.
Duchess Isabel dug out a dress of blue and silver brocade with white skirts that somehow avoided most of the road’sdust. The lady had been allowed one small chest of belongings. Naturally, she'd chosen a formal gown.
Farmland gave way to a row of homes. A few children wandered the dirt street, ducking away at the sight of the group. Jutting out from a larger wooden building was a sign bearing the faded sketch of a mug of beer. The sign swung in the wind, creaking as they approached.
Only after they dismounted did a girl dash out of the doors, frowning as she examined them. Her scrutiny landed on the duchess, and she quickly bowed. “M’lady, I'll stable your mounts for a copper each.”
Lady Isabel stepped around the girl. “Three coppers in all. You can't handle so many by yourself. My guards will help you.”
With a flick of her claw at Jerome, Anais followed the duchess. Her captain would slip the girl an extra coin or two.
Inside the tavern, chatter faltered and heads turned. Most appeared to be farmers by the dirt caking their boots, and their rough hands. Isabel ignored them.
Behind the bar was a stout woman cleaning mugs. Her gaze lingered on Anais’ claws. She dipped her chin at the duchess. “My ladies, how may I serve you?”
Duchess Isabel eyed the stained bar top with a slightly curled lip. “Rooms, meals, and baths. My… sister and I will share a room. And whatever is available for my guards.”
Too much blood had stained her claws the last time Anais had traveled with her actual sister.
“Right away, my lady. Would you like the bath before or after the meal?”
“I've been on the road forever, and I’m starving. After will have to do.”
Murmuring agreement, the woman turned toward the back. The duchess went to the less occupied side of the tavern. As Anais moved to follow, a glint of bright green flickered at theedge of her vision. Her hand shot out and caught the barkeep’s wrist. The woman gasped.
Anais' claws pricked skin. Twisting her fingers, she pulled a ring off the woman's finger.
Emerald and gold.
“Excuse me! Give that back!” the barkeep shouted as she clasped her arm to her chest.
Behind Anais came two sets of solid footsteps. Vern was to her left. He made no sound other than the thud of his boots on the floor – whereas Jerome’s armor creaked slightly, his weapons rattling just a bit.
The woman paled. “I-I mean… if you want the ring… my lady…”
The piece of jewelry wasn't particularly unique at first glance. She could have been wrong. Overreacting. But her instincts had screamed that the ring belonged to her. And it did.
The craftsmanship was fine. The gemstones were a clear, deep, vivid forest green. Etched on the inside of the band were words in minuscule, flowing script:royal consort. Her fingers closed around it.
The Queen lifted her gaze and spoke in a cold, dangerous croon. “How did you get this?”
Rubbing her hand, the woman trembled. “A… a man was here a week ago. Maybe two weeks? He traded it f-for food and clothes.”
