“Bloody hell, that hurt.”
He made a sound between a cough and a laugh as she narrowed her eyes at Callan’s back.
He held up a hand, but it was so dark that Lucy couldn’t see and ran into his back, but at least she managed to keep quiet this time.
The guards were still asleep. The cup of wine she’d knocked over when she reached for the dagger, was dripping onto the stone floor. Callan took the weapons he could reach without waking them, but didn’t risk the rest.
When they rounded the corner, the guard she’d hit on the head was up, leaning against the wall, eyes closed, singing about wenches and gold.
The man never saw the blow coming. Callan knocked him on the head with a dagger that he’d pulled from the man’s belt, her other dagger, to be precise.
“Hey, that’s mine.”
He handed it to her as he quickly took the rest of the weapons from the man, handing her another dagger, which she promptly put in the special pocket in her cloak.
As long as she lived, Lucy swore she’d always be armed to the teeth. Now she understood why William and the men were armed at all times, even inside the walls of Blackford.
Together, Lucy and Callan crept from the storehouse into the black of night, but it seemed no one was on patrol.
While the cat’s away, the mice will play. She smiled to herself, inhaling lungfuls of cold air.
In the distance, she spotted the small stable at the same time Callan motioned her in that direction.
They stealthily approached the stable, where Lucy could hear the horses shuffling in their stalls.
Callan leaned close, the smell of unwashed male making hereyes water as he whispered, “Stay in the shadows and wait for my signal.”
Instead of answering, Lucy patted his arm. He melted into the darkness. And try as she might, Lucy couldn’t hear a single sound. The man would have made a great spy.
Lucy pressed herself into the darkness behind a wagon and, as the clouds shifted, the moon illuminated the ground. Heart pounding, she watched as Callan picked up a rock and hurled it onto the stable roof. It landed with a resounding thump, startling the horses inside.
Moments later, two young stable boys came running out, fearfully looking around. “What was that?” One of the boys asked nervously. “Was it a demon?”
“Don’t be daft. Probably just a tree branch,” said the other. “Come on, let’s have a look.”
The boys walked around the corner of the stable, scanning the dark trees overhead. As soon as they were out of sight, Callan waved urgently to Lucy.
She sprinted to the stable door, the scent of her own unwashed body making her wrinkle her nose.
There were four horses inside, happily munching hay in their stalls.
Within minutes, they had two of the horses saddled and ready.
“Let’s away, lass,” Callan said, helping Lucy up on her horse and then swinging up onto his mount. Heart pounding, they galloped off into the night as the boys called out, “stop! horse thieves!”
But it was no use. The guards were all drunk and passed out. The caw of a raven made Lucy look up, but she didn’t see the enormous bird.
“Thank you,” she whispered as they rode into the night.
By the timethey stopped by a stream to let the horses drink and rest, it was almost dawn.
Icy cold flooded through her body as Lucy drank, then ripped a strip off the bottom of her chemise which she used to wash her face and the other bits she could reach without giving Callan a show.
She glanced over at him, not totally sure why she’d brought him with her, only that he’d been willing to help her escape.
“We have to keep moving. Once the guards wake and find us gone, they’ll come after us.”
A snort escaped. “The lads will wake them, but they will be slow, their wits addled from too much wine.” The moon lit his face as a savage grin spread across it. “Remind me never to turn my back on ye, lass.”
