Page 23 of Arrows and Gems
The sounds of the forest surrounded her as she meandered between the trees. It soothed her need to explore. As the peace of the woods settled into her soul, her steps slowed until she was drifting slowly along with her eyes closed, face lifted to the network of branches over her head as she trailed her hand over the passing trunks.
“—missed you—been?”
The voice was faint, but it drew Helena’s attention immediately. Who else was wandering through the Dracovich de Bouclier lands?
She changed direction, veering toward the conversation with careful steps. Soon, the voices grew clearer, but she still couldn’t see the speakers. When she realized that one sounded like her cousin, her curiosity blossomed further. Maybe Marielle had a forbidden love, and her walk was to meet with him?
“I’m sorry, Cap. I promised I wouldn’t say more than that. But believe me, I’m in no danger from Margit.”
Cap? Was that a nickname?
Helena eased behind a tree, making her way more slowly to ensure she stayed hidden.
“Did she tell—”
“Yes, she explained why she was injured when she arrived.” Marielle sounded a little irritated. “And for the record, she wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“Looked to me like she was trying to hurt him.” A third voice, this one deeper.
Helena froze. Surely—surely Marielle wasn’t meeting with whom Helena thought she was.
Dropping into a crouch, she carefully leaned her head around the thick trunk until she could see her cousin with two cloaked individuals: one tall, one quite short. The shorter one’s hood was thrown back, and his mouth was pulled up in a grin.
The taller man kept his hood up, but the edges of a brown beard poked past it.
Le Capuchon and one of his minions.
She quickly ducked behind her tree, placing a hand on her chest as she willed her heart to slow down. That certainly explained Marielle’s reaction when Helena first arrived.
A plan began to form in her mind, but she forced herself to take careful steps as she slipped away. She couldn’t use it if they caught her.
Once she was out of hearing, she switched to a jog. Marcel the footman gave her a funny look when she came bursting through the front door of the manor, but she ignored him, racing down the hall to her room. An extra dress, the dried food she’d been stashing for an easier escape. A blanket in case she was caught outside overnight; too bad she didn’t have a tent.
She picked up the packet of money, then stowed it back in the nightstand. It would be one more thing for Le Capuchon to steal if he caught her.
Helena threw her satchel over her head and hurried to a side door that opened on the tiny training area. Reducing her pace to a relaxed stroll, she waltzed past a pair of sparring guards and examined the archery equipment. A quiver of arrows, the best bow. She strung it, grimacing at the force it exerted on her left shoulder.
Then she disappeared back into the forest.
There were a few worrisome moments when she wasn’t sure if she was retracing her route correctly, and then another when the meeting spot was too quiet. But when she poked her head around a tree, Le Capuchon stood where she had left him.He was alone, wariness in his very posture, from the tight lines of his shoulder to his slowly rotating head. Then he took a step and turned in her direction.
Helena flattened herself against the tree before he saw her.
She itched to confront him while he was alone, but she would never beat him in a draw. Not with her shoulder. Better to stick to her original plan and find his lair so the authorities could handle it.
After a few minutes, footsteps approached from the other side of her quarry. Marielle spoke, her voice worried. “Are you sure you should leave now? I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
“We’ll be fine,” Le Capuchon assured her. “I’d rather face off against a storm than the General’s men.”
“Who won’t show up if the storm is so bad you can’t flee when we see them,” Marielle pointed out. “And here, you would be warm. The same can’t be said of bivouacking on the mountainside.”
“If we don’t show up, my sister will come looking for us,” the deeper voice said cheerfully.
“We might be safe from the General’s men, but not your people.” Le Capuchon. “We can’t trust that none of them would turn me in. And even if they don’t, your guest might.”
Oh, she absolutely would.
Someone sighed, and then Marielle said, “If I can’t convince you, then you should be on your way. I don’t want the storm to catch you because I kept you longer than necessary.”
