The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(48)

Slowly, Ayla approached the thing and viewed it from different directions. “So…it's thrown or shot up, over the wall. And then? How do the people down there know it will catch on something?”

“They don't. If it slides back over the wall and falls, they have to throw again. And it's a quite dangerous way of climbing a wall, because you never know whether whatever your hook is holding onto will be strong enough to hold your weight. You can pull at it, test it to a certain extent, but, in the end, the rope might still give way, and you will fall to your death.”

Ayla shivered. “All right. Have that grizzly thing removed immediately. Is there any way we can prevent these from being used again?”

“Apart from keeping a closer watch? No, Milady, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry, Uncle,” she told curtly. Saying that there was no need to apologize wouldn’t be any good. He wouldn’t believe her. Better work in the penance he thought he deserved. “Just make sure it never happens again. I hereby declare you fit to serve me again and reinstate you as commander of my guards. I am sure you will keep a good watch and prevent such a thing from reoccurring.”

The old knight bowed.

“As you command, Milady!” Then he hurried off, shouting orders to some nearby guards.

I will have to force him to sleep regularly, Ayla thought with a wry smile. But it was worth it. If I'll see another grappling hook in my lifetime, my name is Rumpelstiltskin.

She looked over the wall. It really was very high up—so high it was hardly credible that any human could have thrown that massive metal hook all the way up here. Had they used a machine? But there were no tracks of any such machine down on the ground. Squinting, she stepped closer to the breastwork. Suddenly, the distant ground seemed to move all on its own: it fled backwards, then rushed forwards again.

Reaching out to grab the wall, she missed and grasped empty air instead. She stumbled and grabbed again, just managing to get a hold on one of the crenels to steady herself. Burchard jumped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Milady! What's the matter?”

“Nothing. I just feel a bit odd… Maybe it's the height.”

“You've never been afraid of heights. What is really up?”

“Nothing, I…”

Her stomach rumbled, both interrupting and betraying her.

Behind her, she could feel Burchard stiffen. The hairs of his mustache tickled her neck as it bristled, dangerously.

“When did you last eat?”

“Err…”

“When did you last eat, girl?”

Maybe Ayla should have been offended at his address, but she suddenly felt like she was five years old again and being scolded for not finishing her dinner.

“Um…there was this apple…”

“When, exactly?”

“Two or three days ago.”

This time, the hairs of his mustache bristling tickled her so fiercely, she almost laughed. Almost. She did her best to suppress it. Showing levity right now would definitely be unwise.

“And,” he growled in her ear, “this apple that you ate two or three days ago, how big was it? Melon-sized? Because you better hope it was!”

“Um…now that you mention it, I didn't actually eat it. I gave it to Eleanor as a treat.”

“You gave it to…Good God above, girl, have you lost your mind? What were you thinking, trying to starve yourself to death?”

“We are besieged,” she defended herself. “We must ration our food!”

“There is a difference between rationing and starvation! In case you don’t know, the difference is that, after the former, you’re still alive. You're coming along with me right now and won't go out of my sight until you've got a good, square meal under your belt, understand?”

“Burchard, you're my steward,” she tried to assert her authority. “You can't just…”

He turned her around, and…Oh dear. His mustache was really bristling, like a cat’s tail in a thunderstorm. This wasn’t a good sign.

“Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes, Burchard.”

“So where are we going now?”

“To the kitchens, Burchard.”

“Exactly. Come along.”

~~*~~*

There was a knock at the door.

“May I come in?”

Reuben sat up on his bedstead. He'd know that voice anywhere.

He knew it! A grin flickered at the edges of his mouth. He knew she’d come running! No woman on earth could resist his charms. Hmm…How long would it take for him to get her to change into her paradise costume?[12]

Not long, probably. He could hear how weak her voice was. Obviously, his words out in the courtyard had done their work. She was ripe and ready to be plucked.

“Sure,” he said jovially. “It's your castle, after all.”

She opened the door and just stood there for a moment. “Yes, I know. But it's your room. I couldn't just come in without knocking. You might not have been decent.”

A grin spread over Reuben's face. “I'm never decent,” he whispered, laying all the innuendo into his words that he could summon. And he could summon quite a lot. “Dressed, maybe, but not decent.”