A princess on the run, Briar Aldrich has no choice but to take on the role of scullery maid when Lord Sterling Huntington stumbles upon her in the woods and doesn't recognize her. But how safe is she actually in his home? And how safe is her heart?
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Sterling sat sipping the coffee that he had ordered brought up to his study. He stared down at the cryptic letter atop his desk. He and his siblings had devised a plan for reviewing the mail before it was sent and had also decided that nothing could be done about whatever correspondences may have already passed between the estate and the strange capital address. So they would simply prepare for the eventualities of both possible scenarios. They would resume their recruiting of able-bodied fighting men to prepare for the possibility that the rebels would bring violence upon them and they would take pains to prove to those inside the castle and out that they were in favor of the King. In the meantime, Sterling had taken the task of discovering who was sending the messages. After all, it was his household. If anyone should do the investigating, it was him.
He heard footsteps passing his doorway and looked up to see Arthur striding through the hall, dressed in his traveling cloak. Sterling set down his mug and left his study, descending the stairs after the boy. He reached the first floor just as Arthur had reached the door but someone else had gotten to him first. Brenna was there, handing him a folded piece of parchment. Arthur was smiling like a schoolboy, having entirely forgotten his lord's most recent mandate that all outgoing mail be checked by him personally before being sent. Sterling descended the stairs to them. They both stopped speaking as he approached and turned to him. Brenna smiled. Arthur had the very obvious expression of being caught.
"Good morning, Miss Brenna," Sterling said kindly. "What is it you've given Arthur here?"
"Just a grocery list that Mrs. Woods asked me to write up," she answered and Sterling smiled at her. He found it difficult not to. But then he caught a glimpse of the list. Brenna bowed and excused herself to get back to her work and Arthur opened the door to take his leave but Sterling caught him by the elbow.
"Let me see that list," Sterling told him, much more stern now that the maid was gone. The boy hesitated in confusion but obeyed. Sterling looked it over for a moment, glanced around the foyer to see that they were alone, and then ordered the boy. "Come with me."
Even though the boy was already dressed for his journey, he did not protest as Sterling led him back into the estate, up the stairs, and to his study. Sterling said nothing as he walked to his desk and sat the grocery list down next to the coded letter. His head sank as his suspicions were confirmed before his very eyes. There could be no mistake. Even with the peculiar hieroglyphics and the presence of other languages in the script, the handwriting was the exact same.
Brenna was the one sending letters from the estate. She was the one whom he and his siblings had suspected of being a spy. But who did she work for? The rebels or the King? A sudden memory struck him and he opened his desk drawer and removed the dagger that she had held to his throat in a forest clearing only weeks ago, where he and his men had found her, worn and bloody. He turned the blade in his hands. It was heavy, very sturdy. But it was plain enough with a black onyx handle and no embellishments. Then he turned it to look at the bottom of the rear bolster and saw a marking there. It was engraved so lightly and worn nearly through. Sterling had to squint and hold it up to the light in order to make it out but, once he could see it well enough, the insignia was unmistakable. The crossed olive branch and sword of the King.
