Instead, she wore some farmer’s hideous homespun dress. She was filthy, her hair in tangles, and she’d had to crouch with a horse under a lean-to while the rain poured down.
Her hand ached and throbbed despite the poultice. Her throat burned from thirst, and her head pounded from hunger.
They would pay for it. And the way to that payment, she saw clearly, lay west.
Vengeance required power, and an ally with it. She knew Odran likely had spies scattered here and there—or so her father said when she persuaded him to speak of council business.
But rooting out spies would take more time than she believed she had.
Far too many looked for her now.
She heard whistling, and though it hurt to move, she clutched a rock with her good hand before merging herself with the stable wall.
She watched the boy come, pail in hand, and the tethered horse turn her head in anticipation.
“It’s a downpour for certain, isn’t it now, Mags? But you’re tucked up dry in here.” He poured the grain into her trough, stroked a hand down her as she buried her head in it.
“Hungry, are you? I’ve got a treat in my pocket, so you’ll have a carrot, since I’m in charge today. And wouldn’t you know it would rain buckets and more when I’m minding my brothers instead of in school while Ma and Da are off helping to find some loony woman.”
Shana’s teeth bared at the insult. She leaped forward, striking with the rock, striking again as the boy fell and the horse shied. Snarling, she reared back for a third blow, but calculation replaced blind fury.
He was near to her size, and he had a cap. It had fallen off so there wasn’t too much blood on it. And the jacket looked warm.
Tossing the rock aside, she yanked the fat carrot out of the jacket pocket. The first greedy bites woke more hunger, so she gobbled it all before she dragged off his boots, his trousers.
She’d be a boy, she thought as she discarded the dress, pulled on the trousers—a bit snug, but they’d do. And she’d take the horse. She could run faster, but she tired of running, so she’d ride for now, her hair under a cap.
Just a boy, riding in the rain. Riding west.
* * *
Breen blocked out the world and wrote until someone knocked on the door.
“It’s Brigid with some tea for a wet day if you’d like.”
“I would.” She got up to answer as Bollocks trotted over, tail wagging.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I thought you’d welcome some tea and a bite to eat. I brought enough for two, as I thought Marco might be with you.”
“He’s napping—I think. I’ve lost track of time.”
“We’ve two hours or so before sunset. Oh, I see you were writing,” Brigid added as she set the tray on the little table by the fire. “So I’m disturbing you after all.”
“You’re not, and I do welcome the tea. Would you like some? Do you have time to sit?”
“It’s kind of you to ask, but I don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re not.” To solve the issue, Breen poured two cups, then sat. “Is there any news?”
“Only they’re looking for her. There’s talk around the castle, in the village, and so on. This one thinks they saw her here, another thinks there, but in truth no one’s seen her since yesterday. I was so shocked when we found Kiara. Not shocked that Shana would hurt someone, but that she’d hurt such a friend.”
“You didn’t like her. Shana.”
“Ah, well…”
“It’s all right. Neither did I.”
“I can say she’d never be one to say sit yourself down a bit and have some tea. She was more: I don’t want red roses by my bed. Take them out and get pink, or, I need my riding boots cleaned by noon. She treated us who give our work to the castle like servants, and we’re not.”
“No, you’re not. You give your work here because you enjoy it, and you have a gift for it. If she didn’t appreciate that, it’s her lack.”
“My heart hurts for her parents, for Kiara, and for Loren, as it’s clear he loved her. Loves her still, I’m thinking. So, well, Hugh says you did well with the bow today.”
“He did?”
“He did, aye. He’s in the way of family, as I have cousins in the north and he’s good friends with one of them. He says you’ll improve with more practice.”
“I can’t get much worse. He gave me a leather guard for my arm, and it saved me from a world of bruises.”