Over the next couple of hours, there were minor clashes but for the most part the cult seemed reluctant to put their cannons at risk by letting them get too close to the Armforge Guild’s soldiers. Meanwhile, if the guild’s fighters tried to make it back out over the bridge, they could be easily picked off by the defenders.
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Sitting there on the hill looking out over the site of an imminent slaughter, Wynefrede realized that she was enjoying herself. The air was fresh and a pleasant breeze carried the smells of fresh grass and wildflowers. She sniffed. And meat pies. There were vendors making their way up and down the hillside hawking pies, commemorative shirts, whistles, and ridiculously overpriced water skins emblazoned with the Armforge Guild logo.
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They made one more stop before heading out of town, to pick up Benedicta. With the three of them in the coach, and their picnic baskets and blankets, it was getting crowded. The roads were packed, too. It seemed that everybody was heading out of town to watch the battle.
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“My lady, the coach is here.” Princess Wynefrede Aumberden of the kingdom of Choochovia glanced up from her mail and nodded at her servant in acknowledgement. She was at her breakfast table in the conservatory where she could look out over her mansion’s small rose garden while having her tea and crumpets. Herbal tea. Real tea hadn’t made it to England until the mid-1600s, and Krim was ostensibly based on the year 1500.
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Wynefrede never did learn the end of Nigel’s story, as the queen announced that dinner was about to be served. An army of servants invaded the ballroom and escorted each of the guests to the dining room next door.
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A cold wind blew across Wynefrede’s exposed arms and bosom. “You’re shivering.” Raphe started taking off his jacket. “Here…”
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“Raphe Faryndon, at your pleasure.” Raphe straightened up from his bow and stretched out his hand. Wynefrede looked up at him, at the way his hair flopped down over his eyes, his slightly crooked smile, and his warm eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Margarett and Benedicta being pulled out onto the dance floor by two other gentlemen.
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Elea Carlyle’s castle was fully decked out for the ball, with hundreds of candles and oil lamps making the ballroom seem a little smoky. But the lights glittered off mirrors and polished silver to create a magical effect.
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“I like the idea of starting fake rumors,” said Margarett. “It sounds like something a counter intelligence agency will do. I’ll take notes, so we don’t lose track of which rumor we spread where.” She looked around. Nobody was eavesdropping. The guards were standing by the coaches, waiting to take the two women home. Close enough to keep an eye on them, but not so close that they could hear what they were saying. The maid was gone, back inside Benedicta’s house.
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“What took you so long?” Benedicta stepped back from the full-length mirror in her dressing room and spun around. “We started without you.” She looked like a fairy tale princess in a light blue ball gown.
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“Ride back with me,” Benedicta told Wynefrede and Margarett once they were back outside the hospital. “We can gossip about the boys.” She angled her chin slightly in the direction of a couple of other Royal Season participants, dressed in the best Elizabethan finery. “And you can help me pick out a dress for tonight. As a famous actress, I’ve got an image to maintain.”
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The Chubb-Baggins Leper Sanatorium and Heritage Medicine Hospital was fully equipped and it didn’t take long for a Doctor Buryngton to extricate Wynefrede from her thigh holster while Margarett and Benedicta watched, their wide skirts filling up most of the space in the tiny examination room.
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“Are you having trouble down there?” asked Wynefrede Aumberden. “We’re almost at the leper hospital.”
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Wynefrede Aumberden, as she decided to call herself on Krim, scooted down a little bit in her seat in the back of a carriage slowly making its way along the cobblestones of Knots Hollow Way. She spread her legs a little further apart, giving the man under her skirts a little more space to work in.
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The hall grew silent. Even the soldiers at the back of the room who’d been taking bets on the outcome of the hearing stopped arguing about the odds. “I don’t know what to say,” the Duke finally said. “I’m disappointed. I was lied to when I first hired you. And then I was lied to
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Geoffrey knocked on the door to Flame’s room at the Drunken Pie Inn. “Go away.” Her voice was muffled. “It’s me,” he said. “We need to plan your defense.” “I said, go away.” “I’ve got your file,” he yelled through the door. “I know what happened on Emura.” “What the…” Flame swore then stomped to
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Abigail clutched her file to her chest. “Even if we burn these files, what’s to stop the Duke from ordering the same kinds of background checks that Ayoob did?” “I came to Krim to get away from all my mistakes,” said Hephziba. “I didn’t think I could get any further away from Heartburgh.” She glanced
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Geoffrey, Abigail, Hephziba, Ayoob and the General all followed Flame back down the stairs, arguing with her not to quit just yet. “Let us talk to the Duke,” said Abigail. “We’ll convince him to drop it.” “Or Geoffrey will put up an amazing defense and the Duke will never bring up Emura again,” said the
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Geoffrey left the atheneum and spotted Olav the page in the hallway. “Where did Flame go?” “She’s in the north tower,” Olav said. “Hold on, I’m coming with you.” Abigail came out into the hallway, followed immediately by Hephziba, Ayoob, and the general. “I’m sure we won’t even need a hearing if she just explains
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“You looked very different on Emura,” Flame told Handel. “You were… taller. And…” “I know, I know, I was a lot more handsome,” said Handel. “But one thing I learned from that experience is that when you’re choosing an avatar, you’re better off picking one with a brain instead of just going for looks. All
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“This is exciting,” said Hephziba. She looked around at the other members of the Duke’s advisory council. “Come on, why is everyone so glum? The Duke said he had something important to talk to us about. Maybe we’re about to be attacked. I know it would be awful, but, honestly, it’s been a little slow
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The following morning, Geoffrey stayed at the castle for breakfast. It wasn’t because he was avoiding Flame and Steuan. It was just that the food was better at the castle. They had eggs, and bacon, and sausages, and pastries, and a chicory coffee that was almost like the real thing, especially if you hadn’t had
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“I have a feeling that things are starting to come together,” the Duke told Geoffrey. From where he stood at the top of the castle steps, the two of them could see down into the town. The sun was setting, and people were starting to light street lanterns and oil lamps. “It’s like a scene
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Geoffrey slowly eased Steuan’s door closed. He’d managed to get in and out without getting caught, without making a sound, or attracting any attention. He didn’t normally engage in breaking and entering. When he needed to have anything stolen on World of Battle, he had plenty of thieves he could subcontract to. Unfortunately, he hadn’t
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“You want me to go with you on your vision quest?” Geoffrey asked Abigail. “Why?” “Isn’t it obvious? There are bears up there, and wolves, and bandits, and who knows what else.” “I’m not sure what help we’re going to be,” said Ayoob. “Unless you want someone to talk the bears to death. Maybe you
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The Heartburgh market was a square of bare ground where local farmers and crafters sold their wares. Most of the stalls were empty. “It’s busier if you come early in the morning,” Flame told Steuan. “Or on the weekend.” She led him to one of the farmers’ stalls. “Though most of the herbs you’re going
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Author’s note: I removed the book Bartram was reading in the previous installment and replaced it with a catalog. A very special catalog. “So this is where Flame’s faith healer is staying?” General Lukomendrius Dungerame asked Geoffrey as the two approached the Drunken Pie in. “Steuan Raollet, yes. And he’s staying in the room right
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The door to the athaneum popped open. “The Duke is going to be a few minutes late,” Olav the page told the waiting council members sitting around the conference table. “He’s probably meeting with a foreign ambassador,” said Hephziba Primrose Livilla Massey. “Running a small kingdom in the middle of nowhere must be very challenging.”
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Geoffrey Napadayushyi, professional drama stirrer-upper in exile, walked into Heartburgh’s finest dining establishment, the Drunken Pie Inn, located just outside the entrance to Heartburgh Castle. Flame Bunyips, the Duke’s alliances and outreach coordinator, looked up from her breakfast. “Looking for a fast horse out of town?” “No, I’m actually just here for breakfast,” he said.
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