My Lady Jane(93)

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Edward turned to Jane, his eyebrows raised in alarm. “You’re staying here to recover from your injuries.”

“My injuries? I’m quite recovered now, really.” Mostly.

“Even so, you’re not going. The Pack is too dangerous.”

Gracie straightened. “That’s right, Your Majesty. The key word here is dangerous.”

“Why are you so afraid of them?” Edward turned on Gracie. “I’ve never known you to balk at danger before.”

“I am not afraid!” Gracie bristled. “I just don’t want to . . . see Archer again.”

“Why not?” Bess folded her hands in front of her.

“Because he’s my ex,” Gracie blurted out.

“Ex?” Jane had no idea what that meant.

Bess leaned toward Jane, keeping her voice low. “Former paramour.”

“Oh!” Jane nodded, finally understanding. “They had a romantic relationship.”

“What?” Edward’s face turned bright red as he looked at Gracie. “You had a relationship with him? Archer?”

“My affairs are my own business, Sire.” Gracie tugged a hand through her mess of black curls. “But it does mean I know far more about the Pack than any of you, so you’d best take my advice. Stay away from them. They’re trouble. Especially Archer.”

“Especially.” Edward frowned and turned back to Jane. “All right. I’ve made my decision. I’m going to recruit the Pack. But you’re staying here. So are Bess and Gracie.”

Bess lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not staying here.”

“If you’re going to insist on this fool’s errand of yours, I should go with you, too.” Gracie stalked forward, her hands in fists at her sides. “Archer won’t be reasonable. It’s not in his nature to do anything unless it directly benefits himself. But perhaps I can keep you from getting yourselves killed.”

“No,” Edward protested. “You’re staying here, too. To—uh—guard Jane.”

The Scot’s green eyes shot daggers at Edward. Jane almost felt bad for her cousin. “Oh, and I suppose you’ll let Gifford go with you?” Gracie huffed.

“He’s a strong young man—”

“He’s a horse!” Jane and Gracie yelled at exactly the same time. They paused, glanced at each other, and Jane understood immediately that they were now on the same side. “Allow us to tell you exactly why we’re going with you.” With a quick nod, she indicated Gracie go first.

“I know the Pack, for one. I know their tricks and hideouts. And furthermore, when you lot get hungry and start looking for bugs to eat, I’ll be the one to find something you’ll actually want to eat. Not to mention I’m quick with weapons and the king needs all the protecting he can get.”

“Now stop right there—”

But Jane was ready now. “To complement Gracie’s considerable skills with violence and illegal activities, I have read at least twice as many books as you, Edward. Likely three or four times, which means I’m quite knowledgeable on an assortment of subjects that might come in handy.”

“Just because we’re girls doesn’t mean you have to coddle us,” Gracie said. “The truth is, you need us. You need me, especially, if you want to face the Pack.”

“It’s not because you’re girls.” Edward’s face was red again. “All right, fine. I suppose you’d just follow us anyway and then we’d have to rescue you in addition to everything else that awaits us. I guess you can come.”

“Fine,” said Gracie. “Then it’s settled.”

But Jane had a feeling that it was still anything but.

The group’s mood was somber as they approached the Shaggy Dog—Gracie had told them over and over that this was a bad idea. That it wasn’t going to work. That they were all going to die and become pillows and stoles.

“Well,” Bess said as they were finally making their way down the main street of the village toward the tavern. “If anyone’s inclined toward prayer, now might be the time.”

“Yes. Last chance to call it off,” Gracie said.

“You can still wait with the horses,” Edward said. “I can do this on my own.”

“Shut up, bird boy.”

There were five horses with them—four normal and one very special, in Jane’s opinion—and they tied the four real horses to a post. Then they were standing at the tavern steps. The sign over the door squeaked on its post—the image of a dog with vague scratches in the paint to signal shagginess. It looked different in the daylight. And smaller, now that she wasn’t a tiny ferret with blurry vision.

Still, Jane shivered. This was where she’d almost died just days ago.

Edward said, “Gifford—”

The fifth horse snorted.

“Call him G,” Jane translated.

“G, watch our mounts.”

Gracie began changing the knots on the horses’ leads. “This is a better knot for our situation. If we run out screaming, we—or G—can just pull the ends of these and flee.”

The whites around Gifford’s eyes shone.

“I agree,” Jane said to him, and turned to Gracie. “Do you think fleeing will be necessary?”