The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [66]
Kate effortlessly evaded the man’s grope. Cocking her hip and head in a disingenuous display, her right hand hidden within the folds of her cloak, where I knew she’d stashed her own blade, she said, “My lady and I had thought to escape the air of the palace. It’s so loud and hot inside. We were told there’s a pavilion nearby, but alas, we seem to have lost our way.”
She paused. Though I couldn’t see it, I was certain she was gracing the man with one of her artful smiles. Peril notwithstanding, her audacity made my unwitting admiration of her only increase. She had the heart of a lioness. No wonder Elizabeth trusted her.
“A pavilion?” The guard glanced at his companion, who stood, gazing warily. The less drunk of the two and therefore the one to watch. “Did you hear that, Rog? These ladies were looking for a pavilion. Ever heard of the like ’round here?”
The one called Rog didn’t answer. I saw Elizabeth tense under her cloak, her shoulders involuntarily squaring. It wasn’t so much the gesture that alerted the man as the manner in which it was done. With that one movement, she exposed herself as someone of import, unaccustomed to being questioned, and Rog reacted. He strode to Kate, chin thrust forward in the universally belligerent display of men who think they have some power.
“There’s no pavilion in these parts that I’m aware of. I must ask you ladies to give us your names. This is no time to be out alone.” He cast a pointed stare at Elizabeth. “I would see you returned to the palace and the hall, my lady.”
Kate laughed. “Surely this palace poses no danger, what with all these celebrations going on. But I see we were misled. We would welcome an escort, if you would be so kind.”
It wasn’t the plan, but she was improvising as she could, trying to dissuade further questioning and secure us the cover we needed. And it would work, if she could lure them to the wall where Barnaby and I lurked at the ready. The thick shadows cast by the tower would serve almost as well as its interior.
Rog wasn’t taking the bait. He’d not removed his suspicious stare from Elizabeth; and just as I felt the situation becoming too strained and that Barnaby and I would have to act, with a thrust of hand as swift as it was inescapable, Rog yanked back the princess’s hood.
Dead quiet fell. Elizabeth’s pale skin and fiery tresses glowed. The larger guard let out a strangled gasp. “God’s bones, it’s—she—”
He didn’t finish. Kate threw herself at him, her knife raised in a scything arc. Barnaby and I rushed forward, fleet as hounds. I hadn’t thought we might have to murder these two men, but in the heat of the moment, with my own knife ready, I understood it was exactly what our survival might require.
I reached Kate as she grappled with the guard, his fist closed about hers, fending off her knife and guffawing as he did it. Grabbing her by the shoulder, I whirled her away and slammed my own fist as hard as I could into the man’s face. I felt my knuckles connect with bone. The guard went down with an audible smash onto the cobblestones.
I spun around to see Barnaby dodging the sword Rog had yanked from his scabbard. Even as I realized Barnaby’s dagger was no match for the sword and it was only a matter of moments before Rog delivered a lethal blow, I caught sight of a blur of movement, a swish of dark cloak.
A long white hand came up.
I heard a wet crack. Rog stood perfectly still. His sword wavered, dropped clattering. He swayed, half turning in disbelief to his attacker. A thin line of blood seeped down his forehead.
Then he fell, face forward.
I met Elizabeth’s eyes. The stone she held dropped from her fingers. A speck of blood spattered their tapered length. Kate ran to where the princess stood. “Your Grace, are you hurt?”
“No. I’ll wager this one, however, will wake with a headache he won’t soon forget.” Elizabeth looked almost in disbelief at the man sprawled at her feet. She lifted her eyes to me. As I stepped to her, Barnaby bent over