Page 66 of The Ashpaw: Part One

“Nonsense,” he replied. “I’ve been doing my duty for the past week. Allow me one small pleasure before I go back to the Council and talk myself raw for the rest of the night about my trip.”

“Pleasure?”

He took a step back, holding her chin in his hands.

“Aye, Fern. Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company.”

She looked into his eyes, a grayer shade of blue than his brother’s, and while she may not have had the ability to detect truth like the Lurvekh did, she liked to imagine there were no lies in his sweet words.

“And I yours.”

He smiled, breathing in deeply, then led her the rest of the way down, wishing her good night before leaving.

She waited just inside the door of the servants’ quarters, listening to him ascend the stairs.

And then she counted, slowly, until she reached one thousand, and left.

* * *

Fern had absolutely no idea where she was going or what she was doing. Only pure instinct drove her as she slipped through the castle, hiding in the deepest pockets of shadows as she ran out a small door.

The night air hit her face, carrying the scents of damp earth, pine, and woodsmoke. For one moment she simply stood there, stunned by the breadth of it all, by so much open space with nowhere to hide.

Her stomach lurched.

The castle loomed behind her, all dark stone and narrow lit windows, even larger from the outside, the highest towers vanishing into low drifting cloud.

Too high, she thought with a shiver.

She dropped her gaze and hurried forward along the garden path she knew, keeping low as she crossed the herb beds, skirts gathered in both fists. Her shoes slipped on loose gravel and once she nearly pitched backward, catching herself at the last moment with a muffled gasp.

Graceful, her wolf observed.

Big talk from someone who’s never walked before.

Her wolf’s lips curled in a snarl, and she hopped on her front feet for emphasis. I was born to run!

I’ll believe it when I see it.

She darted behind a stone fountain when voices drifted across the yard.

Two guards, their armor clinking softly as they passed, spoke in low, bored tones about dice games and morning shifts.

Fern pressed herself flat against the cold basin, scarcely daring to breathe.

One paused, and her heart stopped.

“You hear that?”

The second guard yawned. “What?”

“Thought I heard something.”

“A rat, probably.”

One of them sniffed the air, and her panic grew, which would only make her scent come out stronger.

“I think I smell something, too.”