The Lady and the Falconer by Laurel O'Donnell Page B

open window, easing himself into the shadows of the kennel. When the silence stretched, he thought they had moved on.
    But then the woman’s icy voice came to him. “No. Slit her throat. There’s a killer in the castle. Everyone will blame him.”
    A chill went through Logan’s body. Who was this woman? he wondered. And why did she hate Solace so much?
    “You are a genius,” the man cooed.
    Logan pressed himself against the kennels, tilting his head toward the window. But the voices didn’t continue. He heard the rustling of clothing, movement.
    Then, Logan realized they were heading out the door. He looked in the window to see two dogs sleeping on beds of straw, the room otherwise empty. His gaze was drawn to the door as it slowly swung closed. He whirled and raced around the corner of the building, bursting into the courtyard.
    The crowd in the courtyard was thick and buzzing with activity. Now that the rain had cleared, there was much to do. Silently Logan cursed. He scanned the courtyard, his gaze darting this way and that, searching desperately for the man and woman. A fat merchant met his gaze while strolling past him with a sack of grain. Another man crossed the yard with an arm full of arrows. A peasant herded his chickens by Logan. A woman shouted, drawing his attention to a spilled basin of water and laundry. Dozens of people hurried around him, busy with their various tasks. It was impossible to tell who the voices had belonged to.
    Logan cursed again. He had to protect Solace. He couldn’t let her be hurt. Not when she knew where his brother was. But how could he watch her every moment of every day? He would have to warn her.
     
     
    ***
     
     
    Solace descended the stairs slowly with a torch in one hand, a bowl in the other. The stairs were so dark she could not see her feet, let alone the steps descending into the murky blackness. When she reached the bottom, the small circle of light that engulfed her washed over the wooden door of the storage room. She reached for the handle and pushed the door open. The torchlight fell over crates and bags. Solace stepped into the room, moving toward the bags she knew held the salt. She placed the torch in the sconce on the wall and carefully opened the bag.
    A ball of fur rubbed against her leg, and she looked down. She was greeted by a loud caterwaul. Solace bent down to the cat and stroked her soft hair, murmuring, “Pudding. What are you doing in here?” She sighed slightly, scooping the cat into her arms. “How long have you been locked in here this time?” The cat’s soft rumble of contentment was her only answer. Solace grinned and rubbed her face against Pudding’s fur. “Oh, Pudding. If you’re not careful you’ll get trapped in here for too long.”
    “If I were a cat would you show me that kind of affection?”
    The voice startled her, and she almost dropped Pudding as she whirled. Logan lounged against the open doorway. His form seemed to fill the entrance. She couldn’t help but let her gaze roam over his strong physique.
    She hadn’t seen him for days. She was purposely avoiding him after being so humiliated. But now, seeing him standing there like some dark god, she felt her body come alive. Dangerously alive. She held Pudding tightly against her chest like a shield. Finally, she caught her breath enough to retort, “If you were a cat, I’d throw you to the dogs.” She turned her back to him, trying to hide her body’s response to his presence.
    She heard his soft rumble of laughter. “I don’t think you’d hurt any animal like that,” he said.
    He was suddenly standing behind her. She could feel him there, without even looking. Her body became warm and flushed, and she wanted him to touch her, even though he had cast her aside like an old blanket.
    “What are you doing down here?” he asked, reaching around her to flick the bowl she had rested on the bag of salt.
    “Getting salt,” she responded instantly, but her hands refused