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“You’ll want more socks than that.” Elwyn reached over and pulled three more pairs off the pile. Then she tossed them into Edwin’s knapsack.
“I’ve already got socks,” he grumbled.
“Yes, but you need more. I hunt more often than you do, and you have no idea how long it takes for clothes to dry when it’s cold and wet outside. Trust me; you can’t take too many pairs of socks.” She was pleased that he bowed to her wisdom and let her stuff the socks into his bag, so she maintained that momentum and chose his shirts (wool only, no cotton) for him as well. Sadly, he drew the line when she wanted to look through his underwear.
“Finster’s balls!” he cried, grabbing the unmentionables from her hands. “You’re not supposed to see those!”
“Edwin, darling, I’ve seen a lot more men’s underclothes than you have.” She managed to keep a straight face while saying the words, but then his whole face went red like a radish, and she couldn’t help bursting out laughing.
He forgave her when she brought out the mint tea and candied walnuts, and they sat in the window seat of his room, his feet resting on her knees, while they had their last midnight snack. Usually, they had servants to bring them their treats at the end of a long day, but no one outside their little circle of family and trusted advisors even knew Edwin and Caedmon were leaving in the morning. Since no one could disturb their packing, Elwyn had given the servants the night off.
When Edwin started nodding, he tried manfully to fight it, but failed, the way he always did. Elwyn woke him up—she couldn’t lift him anymore—and tucked him in. She could have gone back to her room, but she found a spare blanket and settled in on the window seat, instead, watching her brother sleep as her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
She was bad with words sometimes, so she could never make it clear how she felt. He was a 13-year-old boy (almost 14 now, Holy Finster!), so she doubted he would understand, even if she could say it. But sometimes, like tonight, she looked at him and remembered how happy she had been to learn she had a little brother. She had been so lonely and hadn’t even realized it until she saw her father’s letter informing her that Edwin had been born, and she knew she would never really be lonely again.
And yet, she had been awful to him for so many years. Never cruel or violent, of course. But she had ignored him, treated him like a minor inconvenience in her life. Both him and poor little Alice, as well. Poor Alice who hung on Elwyn’s every word. Alice, who brightened up like it was Seefest and both Solstices at once if Elwyn condescended to let her come in and watch while she chose her dress for a party. Blast it all! She had been so dreadful to both of them, and if they still bothered to tolerate her, it was more than she deserved. She drifted off to sleep while making vague resolutions to behave better in the future.
She woke with the sun, as it hit the window by her head. That was a skill she had picked up as a hunter, and she was grateful for it now. She left Edwin’s room and went about, ordering the servants here and there, taking a bath, and doing everything possible to make it seem as if nothing was amiss.
Then she went back to Edwin’s room, where she found him still snoring. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she said, without malice, pulling the quilts off him. “You need to get up and get going, you twat.”
With her help, he was ready to go in mere minutes. And then came the tricky part. They passed Edwin’s bags off to Sir Walter, who took them down to the stables. He would meet them in town, and if anyone asked, he was going to say he was taking some old clothes to a seamstress to have them mended. Then Edwin and Elwyn had breakfast together, and as they ate, they talked loudly about going hunting outside town. They tried to do this as naturally as possible, and with any luck the servants would overhear and pass on the news to anyone who asked.
A few minutes later, they left the palace and collected Edwin’s bags from Sir Walter. He returned to the castle, and the two siblings rode out of the city. At the first crossroads to the west, they met Caedmon, who had told people he was “visiting friends in the area” and had left before dawn.
Elwyn gave her brother a very long hug, and would have hugged him even longer, except he started to squirm. “Take care of yourself,” she told him.
“Caedmon can do that for me,” he said, with a grin.
“You both need to be very careful,” said the hillichmagnar. “Keep our departure secret for as long as possible, your royal highness. Tell no one where we have gone. And you, your majesty, when we are on the road, tell no one where your sister is, or where she is going. Do not trust anyone, even if they seem sympathetic to our cause.”
Another quick hug, and then Elwyn watched as they rode away. When they were out of sight in the trees, she wiped her eyes, remounted her horse, and went back to town.
It didn’t take long for their absence to be noted. At lunch, Lord Rodger stopped by, and he looked taken aback to see Elwyn sitting by herself. “Where’s his majesty?” he asked. “Where’s Caedmon?”
“Oh, you know hillichmagnars,” said Elwyn, smiling. “They live according to their own schedule, don’t they?”
“Of course. But where’s King Edwin? I was going to ask him if he wanted to shoot with me again this afternoon.”
“I think he was talking about going hunting.” Elwyn scrunched up her face with the pretended effort of remembering. “I can’t recall where he said he was going, exactly.”
“Hunting?” repeated Rodger. “And you didn’t go with him?” He chuckled. “I’ve never heard of you missing an opportunity to hunt.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” said Elwyn. “I’m not feeling especially well today.”
Then he insisted on knowing if there was something he could do to help her, and kept recommending surgeons and physicians in his father’s employ. Eventually Elwyn hinted that her indisposition was only the usual monthly trouble (even though it wasn’t), and at that Rodger finally gave up and went away, apologizing for bothering her.
She felt bad for embarrassing him, and in addition stupid for concealing the plan from someone who couldn’t possibly be an enemy agent. But Caedmon was right—they needed to keep this as quiet as possible, for as long as possible. If there really were Gramiren agents following them, then they needed to put the pursuers off the scent.
Some people were easier to fool than others. The captain of the guard handed over a spare tent to Sir Walter with a shrug and no questions asked. But when Rada requested an extra ration of coffee from the kitchen steward, the man spent twenty minutes quizzing her about why she needed so much.
“You’d think it was solid gold, the way he acted,” said Rada, when she delivered the coffee to Elwyn’s room.
The biggest problem would be coming up with a lie to explain why Edwin and Caedmon were gone. And the next biggest would be getting out of all the social obligations that Elwyn had already accumulated. There were dozens of parties all over the city over the next two months, and dozens of hostesses were expecting to be able to show off a real princess to their friends.
Lady Hildred proved unexpectedly helpful in this matter. She had a small dinner scheduled for the next week, and when Elwyn told her that she and Edwin wouldn’t be able to make it, Hildred nodded sagely and said, “I completely understand. You probably have a lot of commitments, don’t you?”
“A lot I’m trying to get out of,” said Elwyn.
Hildred pondered that and then said, “You know, you could tell people you’re going to stay at one of our estates in the country. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them that’s where you are, and you can’t possibly come to their stupid parties.”
Elwyn immediately adopted this truly inspired idea. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you,” she said, “just name it.”
“You can join me for a drink tonight. If you’re skipping my party, I really think it’s the least you can do.” She smiled, and Elwyn felt her pulse quicken slightly. Hildred was rather pretty, in a slim, boyish sort of way. People said that about Elwyn, too, so she couldn’t really hold it against the girl.
“Very well. Shall I come up to your apartment after supper?”
“No. I’ll come to yours. But then we’re sneaking out through the stables. There’s a tavern a few blocks away—the Mainbrace—and that’s where I like to go.”
When the time came that evening, Elwyn was happy to see Hildred, but also quite interested to learn a way to sneak out. It turned out to be an old sally port that should have been bricked up long ago. If you knew how to find it—hidden at the end of one of the horse stalls—you could walk right out of the castle without anyone noticing.
“I wish we’d known about this earlier today,” thought Elwyn.
“I found this when I was six,” Hildred said, giggling. “At first I used it to go to the sweet shops. But then I got older, and I discovered the whole city. It’s so refreshing to be able to get away by yourself, don’t you find?”
“Indeed, I do,” said Elwyn. “It was hunting, in my case, but I know exactly what you mean.”
The Mainbrace was a nautical tavern, not far from the river docks, with a marvelously mixed clientele. There were knights and nobles, but also common sailors and women of negotiable virtue. The walls were made of old deck planking, and paintings of ships and barges hung over every table.
Elwyn and Hildred got their drinks, and for a few minutes, they talked about their schooldays. Both of them had been at Atherton, though Elwyn had finished there three years before Hildred arrived.
“Did you get in trouble a lot?” Hildred asked. “Or were you a good girl?”
“I was a good girl,” admitted Elwyn. “I’ve gotten over it since, but back then I was quite the little prude.”
“Oh, I was terrible,” said Hildred. “I honestly don’t know how I managed not to get expelled.”
“Now I’m curious. What did you do, exactly?”
“Mostly things like not cleaning my room and sneaking out after curfew, at least at first. Later, I...well, I probably shouldn’t say.” Hildred ducked her head, grinning, intriguing Elwyn almost more than she wanted to admit.
“You probably should. I promise not to tell anyone.”
“Let’s say my governess and the headmaster suspected I wasn’t really interested in academic pursuits.”
“So...boys, then?”
Hildred moved closer, and Elwyn could feel the girl’s leg resting against hers under the table. “It wouldn’t have been quite so scandalous if it had been boys.”
Elwyn tried to look away, but she couldn’t. Those wide brown eyes, those little pink lips, slightly parted. The thin chest, rising and falling against the tight bodice. The slim fingers on the table, inches from her own.
“Oh, dear,” she thought. She didn’t have much practice at controlling her urges lately, but she knew she really ought to give it a try in this situation.
“So...there was a scandal, then?” she asked, shifting away from the girl.
“Oh, definitely. I suppose I should have learned my lesson, but I went and did the same thing, more or less, at court. That’s the real reason I got sent home, you know.” The girl sank down in her chair, and the winsome little smile faded. “My father is far too embarrassed to admit it. He and Rodger are furious.”
Elwyn, who had endured more than her share of lectures from her stepmother and the earl on the subject of sexual morality, nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure they still love you, even if they’re angry.”
“I’m sure they don’t,” said Hildred, sinking even lower in her chair and putting her chin in her hands. “I’m miserable here, and every day they remind me that I’m ruined now.” Then she dropped her head to the table and burst into tears.
They had another round of ale, and Elwyn had the tavern girl bring a basin of water and a towel, so Hildred could clean her face up a bit after she finally stopped weeping. Then Elwyn got her back to the castle, and the girl seemed fine until they were in her room, when she broke down again as Elwyn tried to help her get undressed for bed. It wasn’t exactly a romantic moment, though Elwyn couldn’t help stealing a glance at the girl’s legs, which were quite nice.
The next morning at breakfast, Hildred came up to Elwyn with a woeful expression on her face. “I’m so sorry about last night,” she said. “I really shouldn’t have troubled you with all that.”
“It’s nothing,” said Elwyn. “I wish I could do something to help.” The words were out of her mouth before she could consider them carefully. And once said, she regretted them. She had a bad feeling Hildred was going to ask her to speak to the duke and Rodger on her behalf.
But the girl had something different in mind. “Look, I want to get away from here,” she said, looking up, wide-eyed and hopeful. “I have a feeling you’re going somewhere, and I was—”
“Why would you say that?” asked Elwyn, startled.
“Well, because your brother is gone. And you’re trying to get out of going to everyone’s parties. And you’re going to be pretending to stay at one of our country estates. It’s pretty obvious.” Then quickly she added, “Don’t worry. I doubt other people suspect anything. But look, I don’t really care where you’re going. Just take me with you.”
Elwyn said she would have to think about it, and Hildred said she understood perfectly, though the way her eyes lit up made it clear she would be very disappointed if the answer wasn’t eventually “yes.”
When Elwyn put the question to Rada and Sir Walter, they immediately counseled against bringing the girl.
“She seems sweet,” said Walter, “but we don’t really know her, do we?”
“And she was a lady-in-waiting to Muriel Gramiren,” said Rada.
“Yes, but she was dismissed,” Elwyn reminded them. She didn’t reveal everything that Hildred had told her, but she explained in broad, general terms that the girl had been sent home because of some kind of scandal. “She feels terrible about it now.”
“That may be,” said Rada, “but it still shows a lack of good judgment on her part. I’m not sure we need someone like that around.” Rada gave Elwyn a very shrewd look. “I’m not sure some of us need that sort of...distraction.”
Walter suggested that perhaps if they knew a little bit more about what exactly had happened at court to cause a scandal, they might be better able to judge if Hildred was the sort of person who could be trusted. Elwyn decided that wasn’t a half-bad suggestion, and that afternoon, she approached Rodger while he was at the archery range behind the palace. He challenged her to a contest, and of course she beat him, though not as badly as she could have.
“Best two out of three?” he asked.
“Actually, I had a rather serious question.” Elwyn looked around to make sure none of the gardeners were nearby. “It’s about your sister.”
Rodger rolled his eyes. “Oh, Earstien. What did she do now?”
“She hinted there was something of a...scandal at court. And before that, too, when she was at Atherton.”
“Oh, that.” Rodger shook his head, chuckling. “Don’t worry yourself about it. My sister isn’t bad at heart. She’s simply got the brains of a goose. She can’t really think for herself, so if people around her are doing something stupid, so does she.”
“That’s rather harsh.” Elwyn took a step back and crossed her arms.
“No, it’s the truth. I love her, but she’s an idiot. I wouldn’t trust her judgment on anything.”
Elwyn started tapping her foot. “I seem to recall you saying back in Keneburg that she was a ‘great admirer’ of mine.”
“Perhaps in that one case, her judgment is correct.” Rodger laughed, and Elwyn didn’t doubt that his smile usually smoothed over ill-feelings. “But in general, she’s dumber than a box of rocks. I honestly don’t know how we’re ever going to find someone to marry her.”
“Maybe she’ll elope with a housemaid and save you the trouble,” snapped Elwyn, not smoothed over in the least. She turned on her heel and stalked back to the palace, where she went straight up to Rada and Walter’s room. “I don’t care what that girl has done,” she declared. “Hildred is coming with us.”