one of the horses snorted and stamped. A shaft of light pierced the gloom from the open door and someone stepped through.
“Hello? Are you here?” A woman made her way toward the ladder. “No good hiding from me!”
Wolfram strangled the pouch with both hands. Even in his blackest rage, he had never struck a woman, not even that whore Asenith. He glanced up sharply as Princess Melody’s head appeared at the top of the ladder.
“Well, hello.” She grinned. “It seems I’ve caught you.”
“Let me by,” he said, “and no harm will come to you.”
Her bright laughter bounced from the low ceiling. “I’ll tell the captain that when he gets here; he’ll not be pleased with either of us, especially since I found you first.” She leaned in toward him, and whispered, “I had to steal a horse.”
Wolfram slumped back on his heels, the rush seeping out of him. He shook his head. “This delay may be the death of me.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she rejoined him sharply, then the grin slipped back. “That’s what Mother’s always saying to me. You should be using my title, though.”
“Sorry, Your Highness.” He searched the darker corners of the loft. He might have hidden, but a word from her would probably get the place torched. After four years apart, his recollections of Melody were of a tomboyish girl with capricious moods. Bright, sly, and utterly charming, alternately supporting her brother’s dire proclamations about him, then wooing him back to her friendship. After the third or fourth incident when her bruise or ripped gown mysteriously became his fault, Wolfram had been banned from playing with the little princess, which he had thought just as well. But seeing her now, he could think of a few new games to play.
With a snort of laughter for his libido, Wolfram dropped his eyes from her face.
“Do I know you?” she asked suddenly.
“I work in the gardens, but not for long, only a week, I mean, Your Highness.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head fiercely. “There’s something about you, and there’s the way Master Duncan reacted when he saw you.”
“Who?” In the blackness of anger, Wolfram had almost forgotten the start of the incident. He scrambled toward her. “Who is he?”
“What’s it to you?” She pulled a little back, her arms outstretched as they clung to the rails. Then, her eyes widened, and she flung herself forward again. “Wolfram! But you’ve dyed your hair!”
He groaned and flopped back into the hay. Doomed for certain, now.
Melody pulled herself up the last few rungs and crawled over to stare down into his face. “What’re you doing here, and like this? Why are you in disguise?”
Outside, marching echoed from the buildings, and Wolfram gripped her shoulder, stopping the flow of questions. “There’s no time, Melody, your men are here.”
She nodded quickly, coming close. “You’re in hiding,” she breathed.
“Yes. They can’t know who I am. It’s extremely important.”
“Highness?” a man shouted. “Are you here, Your Highness?”
Melody pressed a finger to Wolfram’s lips and scurried to the opening. She leaned down. “After him, Captain!”
“What?”
“Didn’t he pass you? He’s just gone!” She stuck her arm through to point out the door. “Hurry!”
“Are you well, Your Highness?”
“I’m fine, don’t bother about me! By the mount, I nearly had him.” She smoothed back her hair.
Still, the man hesitated. “But—”
“Go!” She shouted down at him. “I’ll just sit and catch my breath.” She sat up again, turning to wink at Wolfram as the men below tramped out and scattered for the search. Crawling back over, she sat down beside him, studying him sidelong.
“Thanks,” he muttered, sitting up as well, scratching his beard.
“It was fun,” she replied, her teeth gleaming in the filtered light.
“I’d best be going, or they’ll come back.”
She caught his arm. “Don’t go. I’ve just found you,
“Hello? Are you here?” A woman made her way toward the ladder. “No good hiding from me!”
Wolfram strangled the pouch with both hands. Even in his blackest rage, he had never struck a woman, not even that whore Asenith. He glanced up sharply as Princess Melody’s head appeared at the top of the ladder.
“Well, hello.” She grinned. “It seems I’ve caught you.”
“Let me by,” he said, “and no harm will come to you.”
Her bright laughter bounced from the low ceiling. “I’ll tell the captain that when he gets here; he’ll not be pleased with either of us, especially since I found you first.” She leaned in toward him, and whispered, “I had to steal a horse.”
Wolfram slumped back on his heels, the rush seeping out of him. He shook his head. “This delay may be the death of me.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she rejoined him sharply, then the grin slipped back. “That’s what Mother’s always saying to me. You should be using my title, though.”
“Sorry, Your Highness.” He searched the darker corners of the loft. He might have hidden, but a word from her would probably get the place torched. After four years apart, his recollections of Melody were of a tomboyish girl with capricious moods. Bright, sly, and utterly charming, alternately supporting her brother’s dire proclamations about him, then wooing him back to her friendship. After the third or fourth incident when her bruise or ripped gown mysteriously became his fault, Wolfram had been banned from playing with the little princess, which he had thought just as well. But seeing her now, he could think of a few new games to play.
With a snort of laughter for his libido, Wolfram dropped his eyes from her face.
“Do I know you?” she asked suddenly.
“I work in the gardens, but not for long, only a week, I mean, Your Highness.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head fiercely. “There’s something about you, and there’s the way Master Duncan reacted when he saw you.”
“Who?” In the blackness of anger, Wolfram had almost forgotten the start of the incident. He scrambled toward her. “Who is he?”
“What’s it to you?” She pulled a little back, her arms outstretched as they clung to the rails. Then, her eyes widened, and she flung herself forward again. “Wolfram! But you’ve dyed your hair!”
He groaned and flopped back into the hay. Doomed for certain, now.
Melody pulled herself up the last few rungs and crawled over to stare down into his face. “What’re you doing here, and like this? Why are you in disguise?”
Outside, marching echoed from the buildings, and Wolfram gripped her shoulder, stopping the flow of questions. “There’s no time, Melody, your men are here.”
She nodded quickly, coming close. “You’re in hiding,” she breathed.
“Yes. They can’t know who I am. It’s extremely important.”
“Highness?” a man shouted. “Are you here, Your Highness?”
Melody pressed a finger to Wolfram’s lips and scurried to the opening. She leaned down. “After him, Captain!”
“What?”
“Didn’t he pass you? He’s just gone!” She stuck her arm through to point out the door. “Hurry!”
“Are you well, Your Highness?”
“I’m fine, don’t bother about me! By the mount, I nearly had him.” She smoothed back her hair.
Still, the man hesitated. “But—”
“Go!” She shouted down at him. “I’ll just sit and catch my breath.” She sat up again, turning to wink at Wolfram as the men below tramped out and scattered for the search. Crawling back over, she sat down beside him, studying him sidelong.
“Thanks,” he muttered, sitting up as well, scratching his beard.
“It was fun,” she replied, her teeth gleaming in the filtered light.
“I’d best be going, or they’ll come back.”
She caught his arm. “Don’t go. I’ve just found you,
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