The other guard nodded eagerly. "We'll look after ye," he promised. "We simply want tae see. Perhaps touch a little. We can be gentle."
"Ican be gentle," Tam corrected, laughing in a way that made Neala feel sick. "Gus here has never kent gentle in his life. I'll save ye from him, if ye please me."
Gus grinned. "Think she kens how tae please ye? She looks innocent."
"All the better tae train. Even the finest horses need breakin' in," Tam replied.
They both stepped closer, and Neala tensed. She didn't know what to do. She could overpower these two idiots easily, and she knew it; neither one of them looked particularly adept at hand-to-hand fighting, and she would not give them time to draw their swords. She'd been trained to defend herself, and she could disarm or even dispatch them efficiently if she needed to without even breaking a sweat. But…
If she did that, her cover would be destroyed. The moment word got out that a simple maid had overpowered two of theguards, suspicions would be raised, and she would put herself and maybe even Elspeth in danger. If she killed them—which she didn't want to do, and though she knew she physically could, she didn't know if she was emotionally capable of doing—then it wouldn't be long before someone noticed that they were missing.
Tam and Gus stepped closer, and Neala shrank back. She did not need to fake the panic in her expression, though of course it was there for a very different reason than these guards seemed to think. Sickeningly, they seemed to enjoy her fear, both grinning wider as they moved toward her.
She got ready to fight, realizing that she'd have to protect herself no matter what, even though the cost would make her sick. She wondered if Laura would ever forgive her. Maybe it was better she let herself be killed rather than risk betraying the Sparrows. Maybe?—
The door opened.
"Why is this locked?" the figure in the doorway asked in a cool but firm tone. "Me father doesnae permit these rooms tae be locked, as I'm sure ye very well ken."
"Yer Highness," Gus greeted, and both men turned their backs on Neala and sank into silly bows. "Forgive us."
Ansel stepped into the room, and Neala noticed that he was holding a fine, decorative dagger in his hand. He was toying idly with it, his eyes examining the shining sharp point as though he was uninterested in the scene before him. "Have ye ever wondered why?"
The guards looked at each other. "Why–why what, Yer Highness?" Tam asked cautiously.
"Why me Father doesnae allow the guest rooms tae be locked in the royal corridor," Ansel explained. "I ken there are rumors as tae the reasons, but have ye ever asked what the true reason is? Ye must be curious."
He paused, looking up from the dagger. Neither guard said anything, and Ansel sighed, irritation on his handsome face.
Neala stepped forward, knowing that there was only one way to end this. "Why?"
All three men looked at her.
"Why does the king nae allow these rooms tae be locked?" Neala asked, ignoring the guards and looking straight at the prince. "Yer Highness?"
She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw his lip twitch upward at the side. It was gone in an instant, and he took his time to answer, placing his dagger in a sheath before speaking again.
"I'm glad ye asked," the prince said. "He doesnae allow it for the same reason that the doors are built of a special thin, hollowed out wood. It's so that he has access tae his guests at all times, should he need it, either for his pleasure or for his protection." His gaze settled on the guards. "The same reason that I heard every word of what just occurred in this room before I entered."
The guards gaped. They began to stammer, stumbling over each other as they tried to come up with excuses. The king might accept their behavior, but it was equally well-known that the prince found it distasteful.
Ansel waved a dismissive hand. "Follow," he told the guards. "Dinnae speak. I have a task for ye both."
He turned and left the room, the guards scurrying after him without a word. He sent them along the corridor while holding the door open, instructing them to wait at the stairs at the other end of the hallway, then glanced back into the room at Neala.
"Abby, was it nae?"
She blinked, then collected herself. "Aye, Yer Highness."
"Abby, I want ye tae go along tae the room at the very end of the corridor on the right. Those are my chambers. Whatevertask ye have been given, consider it ended; me bedroom needs cleanin'." He turned to go.
"Wait, but–but Jessie told me I cannae enter the royal rooms," Neala blurted, feeling wrong-footed as she tried to understand what was going on. "She said?—"
Ansel turned that cool gaze on her again, looking mildly bewildered by her words, his irritation at the guards still obvious just under the surface. "I think ye'll find that I outrank Jessie. Me rooms, please." He paused, and added, "Though dinnae mistake itfor a request."
Then he was gone, the door swinging closed behind him. Neala collected herself, then gathered her cleaning supplies and hurried out of the room, instinctively looking toward the stairs to catch a glimpse of the three men.
They were already gone.
