Page 80 of Mongrel
I study Daniel’s face as Bowie speaks. A blaze of recognition flashes in his widened eyes, followed by a wrinkling of his forehead. Reluctance? Fear? I would blame him for neither.
Bowie continues, “Have you heard from a man called Ivaz? Or anyone asking about horses and wagons being prepared for departure?”
Daniel shakes his head carefully but says nothing.
“I know my questions place you in danger if your answers fall into the wrong hands. Even now, the guards are after us. I don’t want to ask you to incriminate yourself. But when the call comes for horses, will they be made ready?”
A long look passes between them. The wickers and squeals have calmed down. Slowly, Daniel nods.
“Good. That’s all I can ask.” Bowie’s hands flourish nervously. “Well, that and to tell no one we were here. Perhaps to shelter us if we must spend the day within Csejthe’s walls.”
Daniel narrows his gaze. “You can really save those girls?”
“Yes.” Bowie’s earnest tone conveys the confidence I wish I felt.
“All right,” says Daniel. Solemn. Resigned. “You can count on me.”
I tune out their conversation as Bowie relays descriptions of Janos and Ivaz. The faintest scent of mint lingers in the stables. We need to get back into the castle. Perhaps Janos has spoken with Deseo. With any luck, we’ll find him and the girls already together.
* * *
Approachingguards drive us from the stables. With the entire garrison on alert and searching for us, it’s impossible to stay in any one place for long. I’m getting used to Bowie snapping me up and carrying me off. He’s fast enough we aren’t seen, but I can’t track a scent at such speed.
Stopping just inside the castle’s main entrance is a risk, but we must take it to rediscover the trail. With both of us hyperaware of our surroundings, we stay close together as we creep farther into the maze of corridors. Passing through foyers and fancy parlors, around the great hall, and toward private chambers we sneak, all the while listening for guards.
I hear chatter and snag Bowie’s arm. He’s heard it too. Female voices, not guards. Have they been alerted to our presence? Will they shout for help upon seeing us? It’s late for them to be up and about.
There’s nowhere to hide, and with mint filtering to my nose, I’m hesitant to let Bowie whisk us away again.
“Let’s see what happens,” I whisper.
Bowie looks unsure, but he nods. “Then we must pretend to belong. Straighten up. Walk to the side and slightly behind me.”
I do as he says, making my steps more confident, forcing a neutral expression. When the women appear, I don’t make eye contact, but I see their extravagant dresses: lace, satin, and glimmering beads. Noble ladies. They’re arm in arm, pressed tight together, and walk as if trying to escape notice.
Since neither the women nor we seem to want to attract attention, we pass by without incident. Bowie and I bow our heads and bend slightly at the waist as they continue. Nothing happens. I release a full breath.
“Did you see that?” asks Bowie.
“See what?”
“The cuts on their hands,” he whispers, claiming my arm.
I lean into him. “No. Really?”
He nods.
Horrified, I’m almost glad I didn’t notice. “I have Cecily’s trail again. This way. We’re close.”
We must be nearing the finishing school Bowie told me about. This wing of the castle houses primarily young ladies, I can tell by the scents of powder, dried flowers, perfumes, and fragrant oils.
As we round a corner, we spot more guards and back up. I hear no shouted orders or oncoming footsteps, so they didn’t see us. But they stand in the way of where we need to go.
“She’s through there,” I tell Bowie.
He considers. I sense his eagerness. It’s in his coiled muscles, the tense line of his shoulders. He’s ready to barrel forward, consequences be damned. But he’s still my Bowie. Clever and protective.
“I saw two guards. You?” he asks in a whisper.
