Lady Thief: A Scarlet Novel by Gaughen A.C

Author:Gaughen, A.C. [Gaughen, A.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: BLOOMSBURY PUBLISHING
Published: 2014-02-11T08:00:00+00:00

The door I had chosen led out to the upper bailey, and the night were warmer than some, with a crisp smell to it that probably meant snow. There were a page at the door that called me “milady,” and I sent him to fetch my cloak from my chambers. And he went.

Seemed there were loads of useful tricks for noble folks.

I weren’t halfway across the bailey when the page brought it to me, settling the warm weight on my shoulders. “Thank you,” I told him.

“Milady.”

I walked closer to the gaps in the bailey wall—meant for archers and the like—that looked out onto the town. I heard the snow crunch a bit and looked back toward the boy. He were just standing there, watching me.

“Are you from round here, or do you travel with the prince?” I asked him.

“I’m in the earl’s household, milady,” he said, showing me his tunic. As if that meant something to me. I knew most lords branded their servants, but I knew little of the colors and he didn’t have a coat of arms on it.

“Sorry, lad. Winchester, yes?”

He nodded.

“An excellent man. Is he a good master?”

“Excellent in all things that I’ve seen, milady.”

“Are you training to be a knight in his household?”

“Yes, milady.”

I rested my arms on the smooth stone ledge, imagining the months before when all the nobles, gussied up like I were now, rushed over to see smoke in the village below. I turned back to where the entrance to the prison stood, half hoping to see Gisbourne towering over me and Rob fighting him back, but it were silent and empty. So much had changed that night. Rob gave himself up to save me, gave me the first hope for his heart, and started me down a road that led to the cursed ring on my hand.

“Milady?” the page asked me.

“Hmm?” I looked to him, but he weren’t looking at me.

“Milady, do you hear that?”

Shaking free of the past, I listened. There were shouts and clanking, heavy clangs.

Fair awkward, I jumped up into the narrow, tilted window and leaned out, holding careful with my good arm. I leaned till I could feel the wind whip me and see the fuss.

“The gates,” I said, jumping down before he could help me or protest. “Come on, lad, the gates!”

Picking up my skirts with my one hand, I set to running, and he yelped and followed. We slid down the snow-slicked gauntlet to the second bailey, running over that yard to the next gauntlet.

Breaking onto the lower bailey, the gates were in full view, and it were mad. The gates were half lowered and the people were heaving against the guards with torches and twisted faces, screaming and crying and throwing food.

The castle guards were yelling to each other, barking to push the people back, keep them out of the castle, protect the prince. A layer of guards with drawn swords were setting up behind those with their armored hands on the people of Nottingham.

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