“And faither chose me,” Eleonor said, as bitterness threaded through her voice. “Because I am younger, easier tae bend.”
“He chose what he could afford tae lose,” Margaret replied. “And I wouldnae allow it.”
Eleonor’s eyes filled with tears. “Stephen is waiting fer me. If this fails?—”
“It willnae,” Margaret corrected her firmly. “Ye will leave taenight, before the claims are made and before names are spoken.”
“And ye?” Eleonor asked. “What if someone notices ye? What if?—”
“Dinnae worry, sister. I will stay in the shadows,” Margaret interrupted again. “I will dance little and speak even less. I will be forgotten and Faither will understand everything when we go home and ye’ll be far away by then.”
Eleonor shook her head faintly. “Ye are never forgotten.”
Margaret allowed herself a small, tight smile. “Taenight, I intend tae be.”
“When ye reach the gate,” Margaret continued, knowing that every second was precious, “ye go straight tae Stephen. Ye dinnae look back. In a week, we will meet where we agreed.”
“And if ye are discovered?” Eleonor asked. Her eyes showed what her words could not say.
Margaret met her gaze without flinching. “Then at least ye will be free.”
For a moment, the room was too small to hold them both. Eleonor surged forward and wrapped her arms around Margaret.
“I dinnae deserve ye,” Eleanor whispered into Margaret’s hair.
“Ye deserve happiness,” Margaret replied, holding her tightly. “That is all.”
They parted reluctantly, with their foreheads nearly touching, as though memorizing one another by feel rather than sight. Margaret drew back first, because hesitation would undo them both.
“In a week,” she promised quietly. “We will meet far enough from here that they willnae find ye. Ye remember where.”
Eleonor nodded. “At dawn.”
“At dawn,” Margaret confirmed. “If ye are safe, ye will be there. If nae…” She swallowed. “If nae, leave naething. I will ken.”
Eleonor’s fingers tightened around hers. “And after?”
“After,” Margaret said, forcing steadiness into her voice, “ye will go farther north, far enough that Faither’s reach will fail him. Dinnae write. Dinnae send word unless ye must.”
Eleonor blinked hard. “I will come back fer ye.”
Margaret shook her head. “Nay. Ye will live yer life, happy.”
That, at least, made Eleonor smile. Margaret adjusted Eleonor’s mask on her own face, which was fine silver and unmistakably noble. It felt heavy, as if the weight of it was pressing against her skin like a promise she was not meant to keep. Then, she took the plain maid’s mask and pressed it into her sister’s hands.
“Ye must look the part until ye are beyond the gates.”
Eleanor nodded, fastening the maid’s linen over her own face. Then, she reached for the door.
Margaret’s hand shot out, catching her wrist. “Go quickly,” she whispered. “Dinnae stop for anyone.”
“I willnae,” Eleonor promised.
She opened the door, but instead of seeing an empty corridor, Margaret’s eyes fell upon a man who stood right in front of them, filling the narrow passage as though the palace itself had shaped him for that very purpose.
It washim.
He looked at her, not at Eleonor and not at the door, buther, as though he had been expecting that exact moment.
