Leo shrugged. “A simple security check, nothing more.”
“Right. Well, the guards never reported it. They were too embarrassed by how easily you breached their defenses—or was it her defenses?”
Leo gave him a pointed look. “Watch how you talk about my betrothed.”
Brody grinned. “Oh, you’re smitten all right.” He tilted his head, considering. “All I’ve heard lately is that she talks to herself quite a bit. The guards think it odd, but we already know she talks to spirits. And I’ve heard that the tower is haunted. Last night she ran from her room, yelling, Wait!”
And then she’d run at the wall, reaching for something. Or someone. Leo took a deep breath. No wonder she’d refused to tell him why she was on the wall walk. She didn’t want to admit she was talking to dead people. “There must be a ghost she’s anxious to talk to.” Her mother?
Another thought occurred to Leo. “If the tower is haunted, then that must be why she went there the night Willem stabbed her pillows.”
Brody nodded. “She was hoping to talk to the resident ghost.”
Nevis sauntered over and grabbed a small loaf of bread off Brody’s plate. “I’ll be going now.”
“Be careful. It could be a trap,” Leo warned him. “And have your men dress as a band of thieves. We can’t attack the king’s guards as soldiers. Uncle Fred would take it as a rebellion.”
“Got it.” Nevis strode from the room as the jailer came in with another tray of food and bottle of wine.
“Thanks.” Brody opened the bottle and took a long drink.
“The duke wants to see your lordship in his library,” the jailer told Leo.
“Very well.” Leo grabbed a grape off the tray and popped it into his mouth. “Post additional guards and be extra vigilant. The other two assassins might consider our prisoner a liability.”
The jailer nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
* * *
Luciana dipped her quill into the ink bottle as she considered what to write next. Luckily, she already had paper and ink since Jensen had delivered them to her tower room the night before. She hadn’t needed to write to Leo after all, but this evening she had to compose a letter for her sisters. Tomorrow morning at dawn, she was supposed to place the bottle with the new letter on the rock offshore. Then the seals would deliver it to Maeve.
After the duel, her father had invited her to a midday meal with him, the general, and Leo. She’d declined. After Leo’s confession last night of wanting to bed her, she felt too flustered to be in his presence. How could she sit calmly beside him and eat a meal when her stomach was fluttering and her mind was racing with questions? Was she really falling in love? How could her heart be filled with longing for a man whose touch could kill her?
So she’d hurried back to her dressing room to change into a more comfortable gown and hide the bottle with the Telling Stones in her pocket. Now she was alone in the tower room, seated at the table, writing to her sisters.
She’d started with a greeting and confession of how much she missed them. And then she’d stopped, overwhelmed for a moment with homesickness. By the goddesses, she yearned for her sisters. If only they were here now. They would listen to her and help her make sense of the confused jumble of emotions she was feeling.
With a deep breath, she refocused on her letter. She didn’t want to frighten them with news about assassins or a betrothed who could kill people with his touch. She needed to write something happy.
You won’t believe it! My sister didn’t remain at the convent, but followed me here. We’re becoming good friends.
Luciana winced. That was a bit of an exaggeration. Her gaze fell on the bottle she’d placed nearby on the table. She uncorked the bottle and shook the Telling Stones into her hand. The number two, red and black.
She placed the pebbles on the table and ran her fingers over them. They would remain with her here, a physical link to her sisters. Touchstones that would bring her comfort whenever she felt overwhelmed. She picked up the quill and began again.
Something wondrous has happened. Two weeks after we played with the Telling Stones, I met a man with red hair and a black horse, exactly like the stones predicted! His name is Leofric of Benwick, and we are to be married. He seems quite strong and dependable, honest and trustworthy. And I find him extremely handsome. His hair is a dark red, but he doesn’t have the freckles that Sorcha feared he would. His skin is tanned from being in the sun. His eyes are a beautiful green like the new leaves of an oak tree that unfurl in spring. Though at night, they seem a darker green like a pine—
Luciana paused, her eyes widening as she realized how lovesick her words looked.
A blob of ink stained the paper, and she quickly moved the quill aside. Was she truly in love? Maybe it was simply an infatuation. After all, she’d been raised in a convent, so she’d never seen that many men. Especially young, healthy men.
But the ship had been full of them. And the fortress of Vindemar had plenty. She’d even been kissed by Tatiana’s lover. And she’d felt nothing. No flutters, no yearning.
She groaned. Why not let her sisters think she was happily in love and her life was rosy and perfect? It was better than making them worry.
Soon, I will be going to the royal court in Ebton to be wed, so you may not hear from me for a while. I will send notice in my father’s next wine shipment to let you know when I have returned to Vindemar so we can resume our correspondence. Even though I will be away, distance can never separate us. You will always be with me in my heart.