Page 3 of Within the Hollow Heart

The bird flicked a wing, its eyes on him, too, but conveying an eerie level of disdain. Nickolas abruptly recalled the metal that had tripped him and began to yank his foot free of what he realized was a metal cage. He made a sound of annoyed disgust before voices—too near—called him back to the urgency of his flight. His attention snapped to the woman once more.No escape, she’d said. Possibly, she’d meant to imply that she would call the guard—though she hadn’t yet screamed—but the ominous warning had not precisely landed as a threat.

He said, “I need out.”

Footfalls echoed through the garden, and Nickolas scanned the space, his heart in his throat.

“This is a private courtyard. The only door leads into Lady Carvell’s rooms,” the woman said. “Or to be more precise, her father’s.”

Nickolas let out a wheezing, horrified groan.

The corner of her lip twitched. She stood, dusting off a plain, serviceable dress with one delicate hand while holding the drab bird in the other. She was not very tall. She whispered, “Perhaps I can help.”

He closed the distance, desperation clear in his entire being. “I beg of you.” He prayed she might keep him from spending the entirety of his days inside a prison or, barring that, to at least prevent him from being forced into a marriage with the horrid woman inside those rooms. “Get me out.”

Her head tipped back to meet his gaze. “I need something from you. A trade.”

“Anything.”

She frowned. “You should not agree so readily. You’ve no notion of my terms.”

The sound of boots hitting the path came nearer, not two men now but at least four.

“My lady,” Nickolas breathed. “It cannot be worse than the fate I’m facing.” At her dubious gaze, he vowed, “Anything.”

She gave a sharp nod then turned to face the men just as their chase ended. She slid an arm inside Nickolas’s, locking their elbows as if to hold him in place. Had she not, he might have run—had he anywhere else to go.

The kingsmen fell to a stop and took in the scene, their prey standing unreasonably—nonsensically—firm against them, having taken up with a petite maiden and her dingy bird.

“My lady.” The stoutest of the kingsmen stepped forward, his head dipping in a bow. “Please step away from this offender so that we might bring him to heel.”

“How do you mean?” she asked.

Seemingly taken aback by her casual tone, the kingsman gestured toward Nickolas. “This man is a miscreant, my lady. We’ve been charged with apprehending him in the name of Westrende.”

She glanced briefly at Nickolas. “How odd. What could you think he has done?”

The stout man straightened. Behind him, his brethren shifted impatiently. “It’s a private matter, my lady. If you would only step aside—”

She laughed. It was a light, careless thing that seemed to echo off the statues then fall dead in the still night air. “A private matter. Sir, you are surely mistaken about how such business is conducted.” She tugged Nickolas nearer while he did his best not to flinch at the proximity of the bird. “Lord Brigham and I are the ones managing a private matter. We are here under the authority of Lord Carvell himself. I wonder that you have the gall to interrupt us.” She clicked her tongue in a manner that was neither mild nor good-natured but could not precisely be called out as a challenge. “Do go and leave us in peace.”

Despite her words, the kingsman stepped forward. Nickolas moved to pull away, but the tiny woman held firm. He wanted to tell her she was going to be hurt if she didn’t let go of him, that the men before them wanted blood. He wanted to tell her to forget their bargain, that she should deny she’d ever encountered him.

“Do you doubt my word?” she asked the kingsman. Her tone turned conversational or perhaps as if she were speaking only to herself. “I wouldn’t think so, given my position on chancery staff and my relationship to both the marshal and chancellor. But here you are as if I’ve said nothing at all.”

A spike of ice turned Nickolas’s spine rigid. He did not dare look at the woman beside him lest his expression give the shock away.Chancery. Marshal.By the wall, he was ruined. He couldn’t fathom how he’d stepped into a situation with even more perilous stakes. She was tied to officers of the kingdom. All Nickolas needed now was the presence of the general.

But he was not the only one affected by her remark. A nervous glance darted between two of the kingsmen farther back, and the nearest had frozen in his approach. There was a moment of silence.

“What is going on here?” Lord Carvell’s voice rang through the courtyard before he was even in view. He took his time, coat half unbuttoned, cravat hanging loosely at his thick, unshaven neck. Beneath an unkempt brow, his eyes raked the scene with a worrying sharpness. He drew up beside the kingsmen, each of whom had adopted a militant posture, hands on their swords.

Nickolas’s shoulders sagged in defeat. When he tried to pull away from the woman, she refused to allow it.

“Lord Carvell,” she said in greeting. “How lovely of you to have come to shoo off these men.” She made a show of gripping the bird tighter, but her grip was not as tight as the one with which she held to Nickolas.

He was only slightly curious what might happen if they dared try to tear him away from her. Whatever it was, Nickolas understood that she meant him to stay quiet.

“Look what a mess they’ve made of Frederick’s cage.”

For one long moment, Lord Carvell stared at the woman before his gaze shifted to Nickolas. Something dark passed over his expression, a sort of slimy self-satisfaction at what he’d done and what seemed to be a promise of what was to follow.

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