17

THE KEEP

Drest pushed through the crowded bailey toward the castle’s keep, her hood up. A handful of men in green surcoats emblazoned with white hawks wandered about, but there were twice as many Faintree Castle knights.

Something was wrong.

Drest slipped to the edge of the crowd, away from the knights. From there, she strode up to the keep. Its pattern of mortar and stone made a perfect surface for climbing, but she merely walked alongside it.

A servant in a drab brown tunic was emptying a pot of dirty water into the grass. Drest fell into step behind him as he returned to the doors. She kept her head down, though from the corner of her eye she was aware of the shapes around her. A page in green and blue. A barefoot girl. A Harkniss knight—and then she was at the doors, two slabs of oak studded with iron nails, then past them.

The chamber she entered was huge, reeking of damp hay and sweat. Green rushes crunched underfoot, lit by the windows set high upon the tapestry-covered walls.

Four Faintree Castle knights in full armor marched by, followed by a cluster of young men wearing azure blue and black. She skittered away from them, past servants in green tunics and blue hose, to the wall.

If this castle was like Emerick’s, the lady would be upstairs, in a fine chamber. But where?

Drest darted to the nearest stairway and took the steps quickly. She slipped past servant after servant on her way up, men and women carrying jugs, trays, and linens.

The stairway twisted and grew narrow. Was this the way? She was beginning to wonder when she came around a curve and bumped into a young woman carrying a basket of fragrant bread.

“I beg your pardon!” The woman laughed. “A bit tight in here, eh? Are you looking for something?”

“Aye,” said Drest. “Do you know where Lady de Moys is? I need to speak to her.” She hesitated, then went on in a rush: “I know it’s not the day she sees people, but I need to see her today. It’s important. I’m one of her allies—I mean, my friend is—I mean—he needs her—and he’s too scared to come inside himself, so I have his message for her.”

The young woman’s smile had disappeared at the start of Drest’s words, but her face had softened by the end. “I can understand that; a castle is a scary place. You’re a brave soul to search by yourself like this. Come, I’ll show you where the lady is and you can give her your friend’s message.”

She led Drest upstairs, past more halls, then down a hall that led to another stairway. Drest kept to the young woman’s heels. At last, they stopped on a landing.

“Here you are. Knock, then announce yourself. Good luck to you, dear.”

“Thank you,” said Drest as the woman went back down the stairs.

Swallowing, Drest knocked on the nail-studded door, then pushed it open.

The wood scraped against the stone, revealing a wide room rich with purple and yellow tapestries—and a woman sitting at a table piled high with parchments.

The woman stood. She was as tall as Emerick and wore a rich burgundy gown with a dark green mantle. Her face, surrounded by a short white veil, was cold and stern.

“I’ve asked to be alone. Who let you in?”

The lady’s castle voice was like a lash.