He paused again, then said, "It feels… strange. Surreal, even. I kent we'd have much work tae do. I even kent we'd one day assault Blackthorn Castle and perhaps even claim it as our own, since it's been the seat of the king for almost as long as I can remember."
Maeve sat up so that she could see his face properly, but did not pull out of his embrace. "We will," she told him softly. "But it neednae be yer seat."
"I ken. That's the strange part. If our plan succeeds—if we can actually do this—then we'll reclaimMcNair Castle.Me home. I'd given up the very idea of it long ago. I'd believed it nothin' but dust and ash. And yet, it stands, and we plan to take it back. I can scarcely believe it's possible."
He sounded so honest, so vulnerable, that Maeve's heart ached with love for him and a renewed determination for their goals. She cupped his cheek and pulled him closer into another kiss, this one gentle and brief but filled with meaning.
"We'll take it all back, me love," she whispered. "Everythin' that was taken from ye. From yer family. And from this country. It was all stolen, but believe me—we're goin' tae bring it home."
9
"Ye must be tryin' tae act the fool, or else ye really are simple, lass," Blackthorn Castle's head maid sneered at Neala. "Do ye really think I'd let a dullard such as yerself anywhere near His Majesty's war room? Ye're naewhere near ready tae serve the king again after the disaster of the other day, much less represent me and the other maids around him and his advisers. I willnae allow ye tae embarrass the king in his own castle."
Neala wanted to argue, or at least snarl at the impossible woman, but she bit her tongue. She knew that arguing would make no difference, and in fact might only make her situation work. It went against everything inside her that longed to get the information she needed, but she had been trained her whole life to be a spy. That meant being able to adapt to the role her cover required of her—andthatmeant being a good maid. She would not be able to do her job if she turned Jessie against her fully, as the head maid was in charge of the whole underbelly of the castle.
And so, though it pained her and frustrated her to no end, Neala nodded, lowering her eyes as if in shame. "Ye're right, of course," she sighed, allowing just enough of her frustration toescape into her voice that she might realistically be mistaken for penitent and simply annoyed at her own foolishness. "What would ye have me do instead?"
She hoped she would be sent down to the kitchens. At least there, she'd be able to discuss some of the scarce information she'd gathered so far with Elspeth, and gain any important insight that the long-term Sparrow had for her in turn.
Her hopes were dashed as Jessie exaggeratedly rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I despair of ye, child. Now me job is makin' sure ye're kept occupied instead of doin' the best service I can for me king."
Neala gritted her teeth, but managed to force out, "I only aim tae serve."
"And serve ye will. The upper floors, where the bedrooms are, havenae been cleaned in some time. Ye arenaetae enter the royal bedchambers—nae under any circumstances—but ye may make yerself useful by cleanin' the hallways and tendin' tae the readin' rooms and guest chambers." Jessie looked down her nose at Neala, the doubt clear on her face as she added, "Do ye think that's somethin' ye can handle?"
The upper floors—in other words, as far from both critical information and Elspeth as it was possible to get. Neala despaired internally, struggling with the fact that she was about to waste an entire day or more of her time here doing a meaningless task while plotting was going on right under her nose, but she could not see any way out of it. Maybe if she worked fast and did a good job, she'd be able to gain Jessie's trust? She doubted it, but it was the only option she had right now.
And so, she forced a curtsey and a smile and said, "I hope I can prove myself tae ye."
Jessie sniffed disdainfully. "See that ye do," she replied.
The sun was already setting by the time Neala was almost finished with the third guest bedroom in the royal corridor, and she was exhausted. She felt sweaty and dirty and grimy, her short dyed hair—now dark to conceal her identity instead of the fair hair she’d been born with, as a member of the McNair family—slick thanks to the work she'd been doing, her muscles tired. She was no stranger to hard work; she'd put in as much time as anyone else at the convent, but even that level of training was nothing compared to how much non-stop cleaning and tidying she had been doing all day.
What had she missed while she had been wasting time up here? Had the king and his advisors discussed O'Sullivan's death? Had the prince been involved in the meeting? Were they making a plan to decisively destroy the rebellion? She could only imagine that would be their next move, based on what she'd overheard already, and she knew that the king expected his son to lead the charge—but what possible plan could they come up with, when the leader of the rebellion had already thwarted them so many times?
The leader. Neala remembered how her heart had stuttered when the False King had mentioned the name McNair—that the leader was pretending to be Cailean. She'd already acknowledged why Cailean was a smart choice for the mysterious figure to choose over her other brothers, though that didn't make it any more jarring. Still, as she worked, she couldn't remain angry at him. She felt a mix of complex emotions about the whole thing, but most of all was a grudging respect. Whoever it was that had adopted her dead brother's name, he had painted a target upon his own back for the sake of this country. She, of allpeople, understood doing what one needed to, even if it meant pretending to be someone you were not.
She was straightening one of the cushions on the bed when she heard the soft click of the door closing. Surprised, she whirled around and saw that the two guards she'd noticed wandering the corridors earlier had entered the room and closed the door behind them.
Neala was instantly on high alert, cursing herself for letting her guard down due to her tiredness and the jumble of her own thoughts. She froze in place, trying to assess the situation quickly and figure out her next move.
"Forgive me, sirs, I didnae ken this was yer room," she blurted, hoping that she could bore them by pretending to be a simple, silly maid, just as Jessie saw her. "I was just tidyin'."
One guard nudged the other and grinned. "Nae the brightest, is she, Tam?"
"We dinnae need her tae be bright," Tam replied. "A lass like her doesnae need brains. Do ye, lass?"
Neala squeezed the cushion she was still holding, hoping that the men didn't notice the way her fingers clenched and her knuckles whitened. "I wouldnae ken anythin' about that. All I ken is that I've been tasked by Jessie tae make sure this place is clean. If ye'll excuse me, I've got much work left tae do before it's time for supper."
She placed the cushion back on the bed, careful not to fully take her eyes off the men at any point, then brushed her skirt down and moved toward the door.
Both men stood in the way, each grinning at her with equal idiotic hunger in their expressions. Yes, the guards in Blackthorn Castle were more than familiar with the maids—some in willing arrangements, true, but an unfortunately high number simply depraved soldiers who felt they had a right to take whatever they wanted. The king turned a blind eye to such incidents, tacitlyapproving that his soldiers acted as the kind of men he needed to be ruthless at war, so long as they stayed away from the king's current favorites.
Neala wondered if she could use that as a way to escape this moment, but she dismissed the idea quickly. She had only had an audience with the king once, and while she had noticed how he'd examined her with interested eyes, he had not called her to his bedchamber. She was relieved by that, of course, but it meant that she couldn't use that as protection now. The king was never discreet about what he considered his own property for the moment.
"Excuse me, I have tae pass," she said.
"Ye dinnae," Tam told her casually. "Nae if we tell Jessie ye were spendin' time with us."
