Page 22 of Raven's Rise
“It’s also going in your room, my lady.”
“Must it?” she asked, as Simon and one of the Dryton guards wrestled it upstairs.
“Tactical decision. Both you and the maid will be near, and I’ll see that guards are within earshot of the room. Someone will always be awake.”
“Would a thief actually try to come into my room?”
“It’s a risk,” Rafe said. “But better that the gold is inside, instead of left in the carts.”
“If you think it best.” She looked up the stairs, then felt Rafe touch her arm.
“I promise you’ll be safe.”
She nodded, feeling a little better. He was the Knight of the Raven after all, undefeated in all the contests he entered. Otto would have hired the best.
They ate well that night, since the inn was a prosperous one and Angelet was a better class of guest than most. She had thinly sliced beef in a sauce rich with the taste of red wine, which soaked into her trencher, turning the hard bread into a very satisfying course. However, despite the meal, or perhaps because of it, she felt rather restless.
She stood up, only to find that Rafe stood too. “My lady?”
“I was cooped up all day in that rolling box. I need to move. I’ll take a walk through the town. Bethany can come.”
“Yes, my lady,” the maid said quickly enough. Her earlier pique was gone. In truth, Bethany was perfectly good at all the skills a maid should be good at. Her changeable moods created all the problems.
Rafe shook his head. “You may take a walk, my lady, but the maid can stay here. I’ll escort you.” He put a hand meaningfully on the hilt of his sword.
Angelet said, “Surely I’m not in danger in a village a day’s ride from Dryton?”
“You won’t be in danger if you’ve got a soldier as escort.”
The daylight was waning when Angelet stepped out of the inn, followed by Rafe. The feeling of being guarded was novel. She had never been considered important enough to guard before, beyond the usual restrictions imposed on all women of her birth. She would have expected it to annoy her—being constantly under someone’s view. But in fact it felt comforting to have Rafe near her, perhaps because she was certain that no one would dare harm her while he had that sword strapped to his side. Or just perhaps because he was a pleasure to look at. Any woman would be pleased to have such a man walking by her, wouldn’t she?
The town was compactly built, with the slightly taller buildings all huddled up together along the main road, so that the sky above was just a narrow strip of clear purple, like a silk ribbon.
Warm, gold light from candles and cooking fires shone out of windows and doors, thanks to the mild weather. Angelet hummed to herself as she peeked into the lives of these strangers. She saw families of all types. There were young couples chasing after little wild things pretending to be children—the shouts of the boys made her smile. There were fat, content older couples who lived more quiet lives. There were merchants and laborers, apprentices and traders. But no ladies like her.
A sudden feeling of intense loneliness assailed her, and when she saw an open field with a pond on the other side, she took the narrow path cutting through it. All the while, Rafe had said nothing, content to be her shadow.
But Angelet grew curious. She asked, “Is this a common task for you, Sir Rafe? To act as a bodyguard, or an escort?”
“No. I’m only here as a favor to Simon Faber.”
“So you know him well?”
“Barely at all, to tell the truth. We met in Ashthorpe. He proposed I join his group to seek the job offered by the lord of Dryton. If he hadn’t spoken with me in the tavern, I would probably be miles away right now, looking for the next tourney to compete in. That’s what I usually do.”
“I’m happy you’re here instead,” she said, feeling very shy. “You take well to this work—the men all respect you. I saw today how they jump at the slightest command. You’re a natural leader.”
Rafe laughed at that. “I’m nothing of the sort. Simon and his boys are just green. Any authority would seem wise to them.”
“You are too modest.”
“That, my lady, is not something I’ve ever been accused of.” Rafe gave her a wicked grin.
“What is a more common accusation?” she returned playfully.
“Oh, too handsome, too charming, too clever…that sort of thing.”
“Not modest at all, then.”
