Page 16 of The Orc's Princess Bride
“The king is no simple brute,” she said, surprising herself with her defensiveness. “He’s a skilled strategist and a thoughtful ruler.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Elspeth gave her a placating smile. “I meant no disrespect.”
She sipped her tea, the familiar taste of Almohadi spices a bittersweet comfort. Then she sighed and returned to the ledgers she’d been reviewing earlier that day, seeking distraction in the orderly columns of numbers and inventory lists.
Elspeth moved quietly around the room, straightening cushions and arranging flowers. Then, as if it were an afterthought, she paused.
“Your Majesty, I hesitate to trouble you with this, but…” She twisted her hands in her apron. “Yesterday evening, I saw something… concerning.”
The nervousness in the older woman’s voice caught her attention and she looked up. “What was it?”
“One of the guards.” Elspeth lowered her voice. “He was passing a note to one of the human cooks in the kitchen. It may have been nothing, but they looked… furtive.”
A chill ran down her spine. After the discrepancy with the silk, after Ulric’s sudden decision to ride a dangerous patrol route himself, this seemed too coincidental to dismiss.
Her concern was immediately followed by doubt. Was it truly suspicious, or was she seeing threats where none existed? And if she reported it to Ulric or his captains, would it seem as though she were spying on his men? The very thought made her stomach twist. He already kept her at arm’s length; accusing his guards without solid evidence would only widen the gulf between them.
But if she said nothing, and it was something significant…
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, hating the uncertainty in her voice.
Elspeth’s face brightened. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, you might write a note to the Captain of the Guard? Frame it as a general concern for security, rather than a specific accusation.”
It was a reasonable solution. The captain could investigate discreetly, without it appearing as if she’d overstepped her bounds.
“I could draft it for you,” Elspeth offered. “In the formal Almohadi style. It would carry the appropriate weight of your station without seeming… intrusive.”
Relief washed through her. “Would you? I find my thoughts scattered tonight.”
“Of course, my queen.” Elspeth moved to the writing desk, selecting a sheet of parchment and preparing the ink. “I’ll make it appropriately vague. Just enough to warrant investigation, not enough to cause offense.”
She nodded, grateful for the assistance. Her mind was still filled with images of Ulric on that treacherous mountain path, of rockslides and broken ropes and the terrible, yawning drop to the valley below. She couldn’t protect him from his own stubbornness, but perhaps she could ensure the fortress was secure in his absence.
Elspeth’s quill scratched quietly across the parchment, the elegant Almohadi script flowing from her practiced hand. The lady-in-waiting’s face was a mask of concentration, her lips moving slightly as she composed the message.
“There,” Elspeth said finally, dusting the ink with fine sand to dry it. “Will this suffice, Your Majesty?”
She took the note, her eyes skimming the formal greeting and carefully worded concerns. It was perfect—respectful but firm, concerned but not accusatory.
“This is excellent, Elspeth. Thank you.”
“Shall I have it delivered tonight?”
She nodded, folding the parchment and pressing her seal into a drop of wax. “The sooner the better.”
As Elspeth took the sealed note and departed with a graceful curtsy, she turned back to the window. The mountains loomed dark against the night sky, their jagged peaks like the teeth of some great beast. Somewhere amongst them wound the cliff patrol route, where Ulric would ride tomorrow.
Be safe, she thought fiercely, as if she could will the words across the distance between them.Come back to me.
CHAPTER NINE
The wind howled across the narrow mountain pass, a mournful wail that cut through bone and sinew, as Ulric and his warriors crossed from the ocean side of the patrol route to the inland side. The perspective that the path offered—all the way to the ocean on one side and deep into the mountains on the other—made it invaluable as an observation point, but that didn’t make it any less treacherous. And this was the most treacherous part of the trail with a sheer rock face on one side and a dizzying drop on the other. The perfect place for an ambush.
His nostrils flared, testing the air. Something was wrong. The air carried a scent he couldn’t place—metal, sweat, and something else. Fear, perhaps. Not his own, but lingering in the stone and soil around them.
“Hold,” he ordered, and dismounted.
His warriors followed suit, trusting his instincts without question.
