“Aye!” She wanted to clap her hands in delight. Down the hall she heard the murmur of voices. She and Tiern stuck their heads around the corner and saw Wyneth and Lord Alvi. They seemed so serious that it made her curious. Then she remembered the Kalorian guests.
“Let’s see what’s happening,” Vixie said.
They approached the pair, who smiled politely.
“What’s going on?” Vixie asked.
“Prince Vito has sent his royal council to speak with your father about their current situation,” Wyneth said. “They refuse to speak in front of anyone else. Prince Vito apparently has trust issues. They made the family and council leave. They wanted to be alone with the king and queen, but the guards refused to go. I mean, really! Who do they think they are, coming into another kingdom’s castle and making such demands?”
“I don’t like it.” Lord Alvi shook his head. “I highly doubt they’d leave their own king or prince alone in a room with a bunch of Lochlan lords. Your king should have refused their demands completely.”
“Well,” said Vixie diplomatically, “a king must sometimes compromise to make others comfortable in order to make revelation possible.”
They all looked at her as if surprised. Vixie shrugged and rubbed her belly.
“I’ll be needing to visit the kitchen soon.” She turned and gave Tiern a sly wink before nodding her good-byes to Wyneth and Lord Alvi. Inside, she was glad to be the one with her own secret this time.
Vixie’s escape from the castle wasn’t glamorous, seeing as how she was dirty and bruised from her tumble from the bread cart. Now, breathing in the dusty air under a pile of hay, she knew she was out and that was all that mattered. She had to hold back peals of giddy laughter as she listened to Tiern’s muffled conversation with the guards at the gate. She grinned to herself the entire way to the village of Dovedell.
When they got there and parked in the town stables, Tiern stood beside the cart and whispered. “Nobody is in sight. You can come out.” She pushed her way up, and he helped her by the hand, brushing straw from her shoulders. She had pulled her hair into a low bun, so the straw was fairly easy to pick out, although the small pieces would just have to stay until she could bathe. She wondered when that might be. . . .
“Here are your clothes.” Tiern handed her brown rags. “I’ll turn my back and tell you if anyone is coming.” Vixie held up the breeches and tunic.
“You’ve brought melads’clothing?”
“I couldn’t very well go traipsing through the maiden’s laundry, could I?” There was laughter in his voice. Vixie held back an aggravated growl.
She tried to pull at the lacing strings at the back of herdress, straining to undo the knot. “I think I need help.”
He slightly crooked his head and peeked, then turned fully and got to work on the knots, gently loosening them and probably going a little lower than was necessary. Vixie had to hold up the loosened dress in the front. She turned to face him. He didn’t move. Just looked at her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You do know you’re quite mad for a princess, right?”
“Aye.” She smiled.
He turned back around, crossing his arms. Vixie dropped the dress and made quick work of the breeches, pulling the string tight around her waist so that the fabric bunched. She rolled up the legs since they were too long. Then she pulled the tunic over her head and rolled the fabric at her wrists. It was baggy, but warm enough. Lastly, she pulled out a scarf and wrapped it about her head to cover her hair. The red curls would be a beacon to any royal guards who might happen to be in town.
Vixie peered down at herself, feeling dowdy. “I look ridiculous!”
Tiern turned and gave a snort. “Only you could manage to be adorable dressed like that.” He flushed and dropped his smile. “Come on. We need to find a hearty meal and then we’ll be straight on our way. We’ll have to ride hard. I took the biggest, strongest horse from the guest stables to pull the cart, since he’ll have to carry us both.”
Vixie admired his selection and followed him to the inn.When they entered the warm room filled with chatting people, Vixie first felt apprehension as people turned to look them over, and then euphoria as they all turned back to their own conversations, clueless as to her identity. Her heart danced as they took stools at the end of the bar. Vixie stared around at the lived-in space with its worn counters and knobby chairs, the fire roaring in a blackened hearth. It was cozy and she felt free. Inconspicuous.
“What can I getcha?” the barkeep asked.
Vixie dreamily said, “Your largest ale, my good chap.”
The older, thin man let out a whelp and slapped his knee. “Lil’ thing like you?”
Tiern laughed nervously and pinched the top of Vixie’s thigh. “She’s only joking. Water and meat pies will do us.”
Oh, fine.“And two coffees with sugar, please,” Vixie added. They would need it to keep them awake on the ride.
The barkeep raised his eyebrows at her, then looked to Tiern, who nodded. “It’s her birthday.” The man looked Vixie over again before walking away.
“Why must it be my birthday to have a coffee?” Vixie whispered.
