The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(59)

“Isn’t this splendid?” Lady Derby turned and smiled at her. “I’m afraid the hounds have lost the scent again. Still, there’s time yet.”

The mist was starting to disperse now, though it was still cold and the sun little more than a white paper circle in a grey sky. The hunters had gathered in a clearing and servants were passing round cups of wine that had been warmed over a portable brazier. No wonder the deer were able to give them the slip, with all this noise and stink invading their woods. Coby accepted a cup of wine and looked around for Lady Derby, but there was no sign of her. Or of the prince. Spotting a side-path that led away from the main party, Coby dismounted and tied up her mare, then slipped away. If anyone remarked on her departure, she could always say she was looking for a quiet spot in which to relieve herself.



The prince and his companions paused for a stirrup-cup before riding on again in pursuit of the buck. Mal followed behind, keeping a close eye on Rutland. The young earl had lured his betrothed away from Lady Derby and they were riding side-by-side, laughing. Olivia was nowhere to be seen.

As the party cantered up a steep bank Elizabeth Sidney’s mare sidestepped a tree root, causing her rider to tumble from the saddle into the path of the oncoming horses. Mal pulled Hector to an abrupt halt, leapt down and ran to her aid.

“Are you hurt, Mistress Sidney?”

She shook her head and clambered to her feet.

“No, thank you, sir.”

She brushed the dead leaves from her clothes and hair, looking round anxiously for Rutland. The earl skidded down the muddy track, feet sideways on.

“Good God, what happened?”

“Is that any way to speak to a lady, my lord?” Mal said in the mildest tones he could manage.

“And who are you?” Rutland’s yellow mustachios quivered with indignation. “Catlyn, isn’t it?”

“Aye, my lord.”

Having established this fact Rutland turned away, taking Elizabeth by the arm.

“Come, dearest one, I shall walk you back to the palace. Catlyn, bring our horses.”

Mal bristled at being treated like a servant, but went to fetch the earl’s bay gelding. The prince and the rest of the party had ridden on, leaving the three of them alone.

“I don’t want to go back to the palace yet,” Mal heard Elizabeth say as she and Rutland walked away. “It’s so dull there.”

“Very well,” the earl replied. “What say we go looking for deer ourselves? There are plenty of does about, just waiting for the buck to find them.”

The innuendo was lost on the girl, who happily let her beloved lead her down a bridlepath between two ancient oaks. Mal doubted that Grey would care much if his stepdaughter were deflowered by her betrothed before the wedding rather than after, and yet the thought made him uneasy. He looped Hector’s reins over a nearby branch and told him to keep an eye on the other two horses. Hector ducked his head as if in acquiescence, and Mal set off after the two lovers. He hoped no one had been around to overhear that last exchange, or they would think his brother’s madness was rubbing off on him.



Coby padded along the grassy path between walls of bracken nearly as high as her head. The noise of the hunt faded behind her, to be replaced by birdsong and the drip of water from the trees above. At last she heard voices up ahead: two of them. She gathered her skirts around her and crept forward.

As she drew nearer she realised the second voice was not quite as deep as a man’s should be. Olivia? The bracken gave way to mixed scrub, and through the thinner cover Coby could make out two figures in a clearing to one side of the path, locked in a close embrace. The one facing her was indeed Olivia – and the other, in deep green doublet and Venetians, could be none other than Lady Derby. Coby halted, astonished. What were these two doing together, unless Lady Derby was the guiser after all? She held her breath and strained to make out their conversation, but they were speaking too low. At last Olivia broke off the embrace and walked towards Coby, her mouth set in a hard line. Lady Derby fell to her knees, weeping.

“I suggest you take care of your companion,” Olivia said as she passed Coby on the path. “She aims too high, and the fall may have been too much for her.”

Coby stared after the courtesan for a moment, then hurried to help Lady Derby to her feet.

“Oh, Lady Catlyn, thank the Lord!” Lady Derby dabbed at her nose with a lace handkerchief. “I–”

A horn blared in the near distance, and moments later an enormous buck charged through the undergrowth, his palmate antlers showering the two women with leaves. He froze, breath frothing from his flared nostrils, dark eyes swivelling back and forth between pursuers and those who blocked his path. Deciding at last, he lowered his massive head and charged. Lady Derby screamed and Coby pushed her aside out of the creature’s path, expecting any moment to feel the antlers tear her flesh asunder. She slipped on the damp ground and fell. Above her the buck raised its head again… and snorted and trotted away as if he had forgotten the humans were even there. Coby rolled over onto hands and knees and looked up.

Olivia stood on the edge of the clearing, arms folded.

“What is it about you, Lady Catlyn, that draws the dangerous beasts?”

Coby had no chance to answer, since at that moment the hunters reached the clearing. She got to her feet.

“That way. The buck went that way.”