Bride Behind the Mask

Chapter 18: Masked Once More (Part 1 of 2)

Dedicated to a random commenter AlanKarihage - Thank you for all your support, o sweet one. <3

Chapter 18: Masked Once More (Part 1 of 2)

Drake collapsed into bed, exhausted from his recent travels. He turned his face into a pillow and breathed deeply.

Ever since she'd been taken away, he'd moved himself into her bedchamber. Despite her eye-sore of a room, with her lingering scent on the covers and pillows here, it was the only way he could sleep.

But unlike his newfound love for her, scents faded with time.

Did she miss him, too?

He breathed again and found only the slightest trace of her. His heart ached in emptiness.

The scouts and eyes he'd placed in the villages, farms and inns all along the road to Lyons had reported to him of the whereabouts of Amelia and her abductors. They watched from afar, ready to intervene should her life be at stake. So far, it has brought him the barest comfort to know that they had not needed to. The descriptions in their reports, though simple and matter-of-fact, said enough for him to know that those lowlives had treated her in ways that pained him every day—but she was alive.

The latest message by pigeon informed him of her impending arrival in Lyons. With his business here complete, the wait was over.

Like all skilled assassins, D'Arcy was an elusive creature that walked the shadows. Even the Guild has had difficulty tracking him down. By accepting a disgraceful mission such as this, he has unwittingly exposed himself and his crew. All the information Drake received on their locations and patterns of behaviour, he passed on to the Guild. Now, they were waiting for him. He will let the Guild handle their Guild business, but he has also submitted a very firm request: D'Arcy was to be skinned alive.

Drake pulled the bedcovers up to his face and held them to his chest. Soon. Soon, he shall have her in his arms again.

The night was still early, but he forced himself into a deep, restful slumber—the last he will have for a while. For tomorrow, he will ride.

* * *

Amelia kept her head down as she closed the door of her chamber. With the turn of a brass key, the locks fell into place with a 'click' that rang loud and eerie in the dark hallway. Candlelight flickered and tremored about her on the walls, guiding her treacherous path ahead.

Balancing a tray of emptied platters in one hand, she reached her free hand into the deep pockets of her dress—nay, Tanya's dress—to check, once again, that she had brought the hairpins she needed.

Three days. There was precious little time to waste.

Slowly, she turned away from the door, mentally coaxing herself to calm her nerves and will her hands to cease shaking around the tray. As she started towards the dim lights ahead, she muttered curses about Drake under her breath. This new ritual cooled her trepidation.

She was confident that in this lighting, no one would be able to tell that her hair was a tinge darker than Tanya's. The only thing she worried about was her height.

Nearly there... Almost a head taller than Tanya, Amelia strained to keep her posture slouched and her weak, bruised knees slightly bent as she came up to the two guards posted on either side of the corridor.

As she'd hoped, immediately after the evening meal, the guards were more relaxed, enjoying a conversation between them in hushed tones, probably discussing the newest tavern wench in the city that has captured men's hearts, or cocks.