Page 3 of Highland Ruse

A woman materialized from the shadows. Her pale blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a number of braids, and she wore a plain blue dress which made her pale eyes appear all the more so, like chips of ice. A bit of silky black ribbon had been tied around the woman’s throat in a delicate bow—her only adornment.

Delilah had not seen her at court before.

The woman was disquieting in the masculine way she stood with her feet braced apart and her shoulders squared, overly confident and comfortable in her own obvious power.

And while it made Delilah suddenly sticky hot with shame over her grief, the tension in her throat abated. “I thought I was alone.”

“Aren’t you glad you’re not?” the woman asked.

Delilah gave a choked laugh, a bubble of hysteria finally breaking the turbulent surface. “So that you could witness the single most humiliating moment of my life?”

Her throat clenched like a fist.

Perhaps she was going to cry. And she did wish she’d been alone. Never had she craved the small closet space she slept in more than now. True, she shared the cramped quarters with three other servants, but they would all be working, like she should be. She wanted the caress of silence on her ears and the freedom to loose her tears into the thin pillow on her bed.

“He’s not worth it,” the woman said.

“He’s the king,” Delilah countered.

“He’s a man. And he’s left you in a position no different than any other man would.” The woman shrugged, as if this were some minor notion, as if it were not a life-crushing event.

Another emotion crept over Delilah’s sorrow. It stiffened the slump of her back and shot energy through her slack limbs. Rage.

“You don’t know,” she hissed. “You don’t know everything I’ve lost. And who are you, sneaking around the king’s quarters? Are you a thief?”

“Sylvi.” The woman inclined her head in the lazy, bowing way men were wont to do when acknowledging one another. “And he knows I’m here, but not to the same purpose as you.” One blonde eyebrow lifted sardonically. “He just didn’t know I stayed.”

“And why did you?” Delilah asked through clenched teeth.

Sylvi approached her and Delilah stiffened. “Because I saw the look on his face when you arrived, and I saw all the hopes and dreams on yours and knew they were about to be crushed.”

And so she’d stayed to watch. Like the men who enjoyed bearbaiting and dogs tearing apart exotic animals for sport.

Disgust roiled through Delilah and she turned from Sylvi, set on quitting the king’s quarters for the quiet sanctity of her own room.

“I can help,” Sylvi said.

Delilah kept walking, away from the woman who was too confident for her own good, away from the awful memories the room held.

Sylvi appeared beside her. “You don’t have to be ruined, Delilah. Your life is not over.”

The woman was close enough now that the delicate scent of leather prickled Delilah’s awareness over the floral notes of her own perfume.

“Leave court,” Sylvi said. “Come with me to Scotland. I’ll teach you everything you need to know to be powerful. No one will care about your past, of what you have or don’t. There is no judgment.” The bow on her neck was decidedly out of place, a note of femininity on a woman who appeared anything but.

Had someone suggested earlier in the week that Delilah leave court, she would have called them mad. Coming to court had always been her dream, from the first moment she’d heard of the velvets and silks and balls and rich food—all a far cry better than the squat house she’d been crammed into with her overlarge family.

But now the idea of leaving court held appeal. To never see the king again, or worry who might whisper in the wake of her departure, or wonder if her aunt might discover her indiscretions—for surely Delilah would be sent back home in shame.

And she was not welcome at home. Another mouth to feed. Another body to clothe. Another person to scour coin from already bare coffers.

No, she had nowhere else to go.

“What would you teach me?” she asked. As if she had a choice.

Sylvi’s gaze narrowed. “To fight, to defend yourself, to be strong enough on your own. I’ll teach you to become a spy.”

Spy.