A True Prince

Chapter Seven

The sailor waited uncomfortably in the small pub within the castle walls, desperately wishing Captain Rastafel had sent someone else on this errand. He didn't really expect to be recognized or found out, but just being so close to the castle guard made him nervous.

His seat in the corner booth farthest away from the door afforded him a view of the patrons coming in, yet he knew he could not easily be seen himself.

He didn't know whom he was meeting—which wasn't unusual—but he also didn't know why, exactly. One of two reasons, he was sure.

This pub was much nicer than most the sailor visited, the patrons of a much higher social class. He was sure he stood out like a starfish in a mussel bed. Again, he wished he could leave. The ale in his mug was nearly gone. He lifted and drained it, wondering if he should order more.

Just then, someone settled into the booth across from him. Someone he hadn't seen enter the pub, which meant they'd come in through the back.

The candle in the booth went out in the same moment, leaving the sailor looking at an indistinct shadow. He hadn't seen anything more than a dark cape with a hood and a flash of pale skin.

"Good e'en, mate," he said, leaving no doubt he was a sailor. Not that he thought this one doubted they were at the right table. Something about this one smacked of witchcraft. The sailor suppressed a shiver, and crossed his fingers under the table.

The figure across the table held out a sketch and the sailor took it. It was a boy, young, about fifteen or sixteen, he guessed. A boy the sailor recognized. "I seen him at port just today."

The figure did not acknowledge his comment or move in any way. "Make him disappear." The voice was disguised, but the sailor could tell it was a woman, one who had a far better education than he. "Soon. Make certain he is never seen in the Bonnie Isles again."

Then, the figure vanished and the candle came to life, revealing a bag on the table in front of him. He folded the sketch away quickly and lifted the bag to find it heavier than he expected. Whoever the boy was, this woman wanted him gone. Captain Rastafel would make a killing on this job.

***

Aslynn could not sleep.

The combination of no exercise—at least, nothing physically demanding—and the presence of a stranger in her bedchamber made it impossible to keep her eyes closed.

Every time Claudia shifted on her pallet or sighed in her sleep, Aslynn heard it. If the maid had snored or thrashed around like Sebastian, it would have been easier to accept. But Claudia wasn't her friend, they weren't in Sebastian's loft, and sleep would not come.

If Claudia were not there, she could have gone to visit Sebastian, bypassing the guard at her door by using the secret passageway behind the tapestry.

But Aslynn did not dare reveal her knowledge of the passages. She would be throwing away a perfectly good secret if she were caught outside her room.

Instead, she rubbed at her sore shins and tried to believe that if she behaved, the whole ordeal would be over sooner.

Patience, she thought, is going to be a most difficult lesson to learn. Dealing with the discomfort she could handle.

The hoop skirt was proving to be the hardest trial. It appeared her posture was not the problem; it was her stride. Her back did not bother her even after having the board tied to it all afternoon. And she could keep from swinging her arms if she held her hands clasped in front of her. It was an acceptable concession to Tawnia, and it saved her upper arms from being pinched by the metal bands strapped tightly around them.