Page 164 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

She hurried down the stair beyond. If she was to leave the palace, she would need a horse and a disguise. There was one person left who might give them to her.

In her quarters, Margret Beck sat in her nightgown. She looked up with a gasp when Ead entered.

“What is the meaning of—” She stood. “Ead?”

Ead shut the door behind her. “Meg, I have no time. I must—”

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, a metallic knock came, the sound of knuckles sheathed in a gauntlet.

“Lady Margret.” Knock. “Lady Margret, this is Dame Joan Dale, of the Knights of the Body.” Another knock. “My lady, I come on urgent business. Open the door.”

Margret motioned Ead toward her unmade bed. Ead pushed herself under it and let the valance fall behind her. She heard Margret walk across the flagstones.

“Forgive me, Dame Joan. I was sleeping.” Her voice was slow and hoarse. “Is something the matter?”

“Lady Margret, the Principal Secretary has ordered the arrest of Mistress Ead Duryan. Have you seen her?”

“Ead?” Margret sat down on the bed, as if stunned. “This is impossible. On what grounds?”

She was a consummate actor. Her voice wavered at the crossroads between shock and disbelief.

“I am not at liberty to speak with you further on the subject.” Armored feet crossed the room. “If you do see Mistress Duryan, sound the alarm at once.”

“Of course.”

The Knight of the Body left, closing the door behind her. Margret slid the bolt across and drew the curtains before she hauled Ead from under the bed.

“Ead,” she whispered, “what in damsam have you done?”

“I stepped too close to Sabran. Just like Loth.”

“No.” Margret stared at her. “You used to tread socarefullyin this court, Ead—”

“I know. Forgive me.” She extinguished the candles and stole a look between the curtains. Guards and armed squires were all over the grounds. “Meg, I need your help. I must return to the Ersyr, or Combe will kill me.”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

“He cannot let me leave the palace alive. Not knowing—” Ead faced her again. “You will hear things about me, things that will make you doubt me, but you must know that I love the queen. And I am certain she is in grave danger.”

“From the Cupbearer?”

“And her own Dukes Spiritual. I think they mean to move against her,” Ead said. “Combe has some part in it, I am sure. Youmustwatch Sabran, Meg. Stay close to her.”

Margret searched her face. “Until you return?”

Ead met her expectant gaze. Any promise she made to Margret now, she might not be able to keep.

“Until I return,” she finally said.

This seemed to nerve Margret. Jaw set, she went to her press and tossed a woollen cloak, a ruffled shirt, and a kirtle on to the bed. “You won’t get far in all that finery,” she said. “Fortunate that we are the same height.”

Ead stripped to her shift and put on the new clothes, thanking the Mother for Margret Beck. Once the cloak was fastened and the hood up, Margret led her to the door.

“Downstairs is a painting of Lady Brilda Glade. There is a stair to the guardhouse behind it. From there, you can circle around the Privy Garden to the stables. Take Valour.”

That horse was her pride and joy. “Meg,” Ead said, grasping her hands, “they will know you helped me.”

“So be it.” She pressed a silk purse on Ead. “Here. Enough to buy you passage to Zeedeur.”

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