He was stiff against her, his back painfully straight. Beneath her hands she could feel the rough scars hidden by his shirt; two-year-old lash marks from a flogging that had nearly killed him. By the time Clare made it to his barracks, Eliot was wracked with fever, his back a bloody mass of ruined flesh. The captain who’d whipped him near to death and ensured Eliot would never advance from the city guard hadn’t even had a good reason; he’d simply wanted to assert his dominance on someone he viewed as lesser. Clare hated him for it.
Gradually, Eliot relaxed and embraced her in return, tucking her head under his chin. “I don’t like this,” he muttered.
He’d like it even less if he knew the truth.
On the other side of the door, voices flared; Thomas and Mark were talking about the soldiers waiting on the street outside.
Clare sighed and pulled back from her older brother. “You should go. Sneak out the back door. Mistress Keller can meet you later, but it would be best if she doesn’t see you avoiding the soldiers.” She took a step toward the door, but Eliot gripped her hand.
“Wait.” He fumbled with the belt around his waist before holding out a simple dagger, hilt wrapped in leather as it dangled in the sheath.
Her scalp prickled at the sight of the weapon. “Eliot—”
His eyes hardened. “You’ll take it, or I’ll march out there and tell those soldiers to give your regrets to the princess.”
Clare rolled her eyes and Eliot watched as she secured it around her waist. She set her hands on her hips. “Happy?”
His eyebrows drew together. “No.”
Warmth spread through her chest; her brother wanted her safe. It was a good feeling, even if there was nothing he could do to protect her. Clare planted a kiss on his smooth cheek before they returned to the main room. Eliot promised the boys he would check in soon and then, with a last look at Clare, he slipped out the back.
When Clare invited Mistress Keller into the house, the caretaker swept inside with a beaming smile and an eagerness to meet Thomas and Mark. The boys were a little wary, but their eyeswidened when they saw the two trunks the soldiers carried in. The first trunk held food. The second was filled with clothing, books, and toys.
Thomas and Mark made quick work of unpacking that trunk while Clare and Mistress Keller put the food away. Clare showed the older woman around the house, and when they’d returnedto the main room they found the boys had lined up small tin soldiers and were eagerly playing.
Clare had never seen them look so youthful. So happy. Despite the fear, she also felt a measure of peace. Even if she died tomorrow as the decoy, her brothers would still have this.
She smiled as she knelt beside them on the floor. She plucked a blue-uniformed soldier from the pile. “He’s my favorite.”
Mark frowned. “He’s got a dent.”
She rolled the figurine in her palm, easily finding the dent in his back. “It’ll make him easier to find.”
“I suppose.” Mark glanced away, a toy soldier clenched in each hand. “I don’t need toys,” he whispered.
Clare’s shoulders dropped and she wrapped an arm aroundhim. “I want you to have them, Mark. And I don’t want you towork at Motley’s anymore. This is a chance for all of us to have a better life.”
Thomas watched her closely. “You too?”
“Yes. Me too.” The words burned in her throat and she hoped they wouldn’t hear the lie. “I’ll come visit as often as I can.” She doubted the king would ever let her visit, and that made her gut churn.
Clare made a show of looking through the trunk, and when she pulled out a set of wooden blocks they all built a castle for the soldiers to defend. As they played, Mark pressed the dented tin soldier into Clare’s hand. His voice was quiet. “You should keep him, since he’s your favorite. He can keep you safe.”
Pressure sparked behind her eyes and she blinked to clear the haze.
The morning bled into afternoon and Clare wanted to ignore the passage of time. But too soon a knock sounded on the door and it opened before she could speak. The princess’s bodyguard ducked in, thrusting a hand through his sand-colored hair. Clare stiffened at the sight of him.
He viewed their game, apology edging his expression. “I’m sorry, but a storm’s building. We need to start back.”
Mark latched onto her wrist, instantly tensing. “You can’t go!”
Clare laid a hand over his small one before looking back at the blue-eyed guard. “I need a moment.”
He darted a look at Mark and his features softened. “Of course.”
But a moment wasn’t long enough to say goodbye. Clare’s heart cracked when Mistress Keller had to pry Mark’s clawed fingers from her arms. His frantic eyes and panicked cries cut her, and as she strode away, her arms ached to hold him.
Wind tore up the narrow street, dirt stinging her skin and eyes as she moved for the waiting carriage. The air itself felt different. It caught painfully in her lungs and she didn’t think the coming storm was to blame. No, everything felt raw because her little brother was screaming her name and she couldn’t go to him.
The dented toy soldier bit painfully into her hand, but she only squeezed it tighter.
Chapter 5
Clare
Tears dashed down Clare’s cheeks as the carriage rolled toward the castle. Her teeth grated and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the tin soldier Mark had given her. To watch her. Protect her.
No one could protect her.
The storm broke and rain hammered the city, pelting loudly off the canvas roof of
