Page 163 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

Wind blew her hair across her eyes as she ascended. The woodvines creaked darkly. A slender vine snapped between her fingers, and her belly tightened, but she snatched for a new handhold and pressed on. Finally, she slid through the open window, landing in silence.

Into the deserted corridors. Up the stairs to the royal apartments. Outside the darkened Presence Chamber stood a line of armed retainers in black tabards. Each tabard was embroidered with the twin goblets of the Duchess of Justice.

“I wish to see the queen,” Ead said breathlessly. “At once.”

“Her Majesty is in bed, Mistress Duryan, and night duty has begun,” a woman answered.

“Lady Roslain, then.”

“The doors to the Great Bedchamber are locked,” was the curt reply, “and will not be unlocked until morning.”

“Imustsee the queen,” Ead cut in, frustrated. “It is a matter of the utmost importance.”

The retainers exchanged glances. Finally, one of them, visibly irritated, took a candle and walked into the dark.

Heart thumping, Ead gathered her breath. She hardly knew what she would say to Sabran. Only that she had to make her aware of what Combe was doing.

A blear-eyed Roslain appeared in her bedgown. Strands of hair escaped her braid.

“Ead,” she said, her voice taut with impatience, “what in the world is the matter?”

“I need to see Sabran.”

Lips pinched, Roslain took her aside.

“Her Majesty has a fever.” She looked grim. “Doctor Bourn says that bed rest will resolve it, but my grandmother has stationed her retainers here for additional protection until she is well. I will stay to nurse her.”

“You must tell her.” Ead grasped her arm. “Roslain, Combe is sending me into exile. You need to—”

“Mistress Duryan!”

Roslain flinched. Retainers wearing the winged book were at the end of the corridor, led by two Knights of the Body.

“Seize her,” Sir Marke Birchen shouted. “Ead Duryan, you are arrested. Stop at once!”

Ead flung open the nearest door and rushed into the night.

“Ead,” Roslain cried after her, horror-struck. “Sir Marke, what is the meaning of this?”

A line of balconies took Ead to another open door. She ran blindly through the corridors until she slammed through the door of the Privy Kitchen, where Tallys, the scullion, crouched in the corner, eating a custard tart. When Ead burst in, she gasped.

“Mistress Duryan.” She looked terrified. “Mistress, I was only—”

Ead raised a finger to her lips. “Tallys,” she said, “is there a way out?”

The scullion nodded at once. She took Ead by the hand and led her to a small door, hidden behind a drape.

“This way. The Servant Stair,” she whispered. “Are you leaving forever?”

“For now,” Ead said.

“Why?”

“I cannot tell you, child.” Ead looked her dead in the eye. “Tell no one you saw me. Swear it on your honor as a lady, Tallys.”

Tallys swallowed. “I swear it.”

Footsteps outside. Ead ducked through the door, and Tallys bolted it behind her.

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