Page 214 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Ead pulled on a flat cap and tucked every curl inside. Each waterfellow grasped an oar and rowed.

The Limber was wide and swift-flowing. It took them some time to reach the landing.

The Privy Stair led up to a postern in the palace wall, designed to be a discreet way for the royal family to leave. Sabran never used her pleasure barge, but her mother had always been out on the river, waving at the people, skimming her fingers through the water. Loth found himself wondering if Queen Rosarian had ever used the stair to escape for trysts with Gian Harlowe.

He was no longer sure if he should give credence to that rumor. His every belief had been bruised and battered. Perhaps nothing he had thought about this court had been true.

Or perhaps this was a test of faith.

They followed the waterfolk up the steps. On the other side of the wall, Loth caught his first glimpse of the three knights-errant who blocked their way. Ead pulled Loth into an alcove to the left, and they crouched behind the well.

“Good evening to you all,” one of the knights-errant said. “You have the wine?”

“Aye, sirs.” The head waterfellow doffed his cap. “Sixty barrels.”

“Take them to the Great Kitchen. But first, your fellows will need to show us their faces. All of you, lower your hoods and remove your caps.”

The waterfolk did as they were told.

“Good. Be on your way,” the knight-errant said.

The barrels were duly carried up the stairs. Ead crept toward the mouth of the alcove—only to withdraw.

One of the knights-errant was coming down the steps. When he thrust his torch into their hiding place, a voice said, “What’s this?” The flame came closer. “Are we defying the Knight of Fellowship in here?”

Then the knight-errant saw Loth, and he saw Ead, and under the shadow cast by his helm, Loth saw his mouth open wide to raise the alarm.

That was when a knife sliced across his throat. As blood sprayed, Ead threw him into the well.

Three heartbeats, and he hit the bottom.

50

West

She had hoped not to kill anyone in the palace. If there had been more time, Ead might have candled the man.

She retrieved the torch and let it fall into the well. She wiped the blood from her knife.

“Find Meg and hide in her quarters,” she said quietly. “I want to scout the palace.”

Loth was staring at her as if she were a stranger. She gave him a push up the steps.

“Hurry. They will search everywhere when they find the body.”

He went.

Ead followed him before paring away. She crossed the courtyard with the apple tree and pressed her back to the limewashed wall of the Great Kitchen. She waited until a detail of guards had gone past before she slipped into the passage that led to the Sanctuary Royal.

Two more knights-errant, both in black surcoats and armed with partizans, stood outside its doors.

She candled them both. Mother willing, they would wake up too addled to report what had happened. Inside, she hid behind a pillar and gazed into the gloom. As always, many courtiers had gathered for orisons. Voices rang to the vaulted ceiling.

Sabran was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Margret.

Ead took note of how the worshippers were sitting. Usually they would huddle on the benches in the spirit of fellowship. Tonight, however, there was a clear-cut faction. Retainers in full livery. Black and murrey, the twin goblets embroidered on their tabards.

Once, you would have seen Combe’s retainers strutting about inhislivery, Margret had told her,as if their first loyalty were not to their queen.

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