“It’s just me,” Wardley hissed.
Dinah turned her back to him and started to pull the gray dress over her head. Wardley crossed the room. “No. Wait. Leave it off.”
Her heart felt like it was plunged into icy water.
“They will be in here any minute. I saw their faces when I asked for the cloak room.” He shook his head and began grumbling. “The king should never have men like this in his service. In his attempt to build a strong set of Cards, he has taken even the worst of men. His ever-lowering standards are weakening the kingdom.”
“Shhh—” Dinah heard heavy footsteps and the clanking of metal outside the door. Quickly, Wardley wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her against him. His lips traced down her neck, his breath scorching as it passed over her creamy skin. She closed her eyes and surrendered, aware of how every curve of her body showed through the thin fabric, so close to him, so close to being just her skin pressed against his. The heat from his body washed over her, their breath becoming one in the small space between them. Dinah’s body pulled toward him as she raised her lips to meet his.
Wardley watched her silently as he gathered her thick black hair in his hands, his eyes tracing down her bodice before he looked away sharply. “Let’s not oversell it,” he murmured.
The door burst open. The three Cards stood in front of them, grinning like fools. Roxs stepped forward. “Well, well, Princess; it seems you have acquired a taste for the stable boy.”
“Get out,” growled Wardley. “Don’t come near the princess.”
“You should have taken that advice yourself. Seems like you have quite the handful there. She’s not to my taste—that leans more to the Lady Vittiore and those blond curls—but there is a certain appeal to her. I heard she’s feisty like her father and crazy like her brother. She has fire in the blood.”
Roxs circled Dinah, his lecherous eyes taking in entirely too much of her. “So, you’re plucking the princess. This secret tryst of yours, what’s it worth to you?”
Dinah gulped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, how much gold was in that purse of yours? Two hundred? Three hundred? That would buy me land, girl, and food for my families.”
Wardley laid his hand across his sword. “You may not blackmail the princess. The king will have your head on Execution Day for this.”
“Well, let’s go tell him, shall we?” Roxs headed to the door, his two henchmen grinning like idiots beside him.
“Wait,” Dinah said quietly. “How much do you want?”
“Everything that’s in that purse, miss, and nothing less to buy our silence.”
“That is a fortune,” breathed Dinah angrily.
“And that’s what I’m asking.”
Dinah reached for her bag.
Wardley stepped forward. “Let the lady and me discuss this, then we’ll talk.”
“Some lady,” grunted Fellen, but the Cards stepped out, shutting the door behind them. She could hear their greedy laughter outside the door.
“That went well,” whispered Wardley. He pulled Dinah close to him again and pressed his lips against hers.
The Cards barged back in, unable to wait. “Can’t keep your hands off each other, eh? I remember being young and lusty—you can’t keep your manhood down!”
The Cards jostled with glee. Wardley raised his hand and they fell silent. Even when they assumed he was just a stable boy, he commanded attention. “Here is what we propose. The princess and I never have time to, let’s just say, be by ourselves. We will give you all the gold in this purse, along with—”
Dinah pulled out a large amethyst ring. The Cards’ eyes lit up.
“This, if you allow us to stay in this room for as long as we desire and make sure that no one, no one comes in. That includes you. If anyone asks where the princess is today, you are to say that she is having tea with the Lady Vittiore and studying in the library. You never saw us here. Do you understand? We’ll give you the coins now, but the ring we will give you after we are … finished.” Wardley let a naughty smile play across his face. “And we’ll need all day.”
Roxs stepped forward. “And why should we do this for you?”
“Because who will the king believe—a drunken Card accused of stealing the princess’s gold or his daughter?”
Roxs considered it for a moment. “Done.”
Wardley handed him the bag. “Remember. No one comes in or out. We want at least until nightfall together. When we come out, you will get the ring.”
Fellen gave a snort. “You think you can last that long, son?”
Wardley leveled him with a gaze. “Without a doubt.”
The Three Cards exchanged an envious look and backed out of the room. “We must keep our watch over the Great Hall, but we’ll hear you if you sneak out. Don’t cheat us, boy!”
“Fine,” replied Dinah. “Keep your promise and I will keep mine, and I will not take your heads for your silence.”
The Cards left. Wardley glanced at Dinah with a bemused grin. “Men of questionable character can always be trusted in situations that involve gold.”
Dinah didn’t have time for banter. “Did you bring the breastplate? The uniform?”
“I did.”
Wardley also had a bag. Out of it he pulled a white breastplate with the gray Club symbol etched on it. He slipped the armor over a gray tunic and fastened his black cloak with a tiny glittering Club pin at his right shoulder. “How do I look?” he whispered.
“Like a Club,” Dinah replied. “Me?”
“Like a servant, only cleaner.”
Dinah quickly braided her hair and then started pushing back the cloaks in the corner of the room. They moved cloak after cloak aside until they saw it: a small wooden door, expertly camouflaged with the wood around it.
“I still can’t believe this is in here,” Dinah whispered, running her hand over the minute cracks.
Wardley nodded. “This was how your great-grandfather snuck out of the Great Hall to meet his Yurkei mistress, a serving girl of the king. The tunnels through the castle are well-known among the Heart Cards.”
“Except mine,” Dinah said softly.
“Except yours.” Wardley took a deep breath and pushed open the door. “Let out a cry.”
“What?”
“Let out a cry, a loud one.”
Dinah did as she was told.
“That should keep them satisfied for a while.” Wardley laughed. “Let’s go.” They ducked under the door.
The passage—a sort of hallway between wooden wall brackets—led them directly into a niche in the stone that pushed out into the Great Hall. Checking that the massive room was empty, they quickly ran up the steps and past the throne. Dinah led Wardley into the narrow foyer bordering her father’s privy.
“This is the way into the tunnels? Through the privy?”
Dinah didn’t reply. She was too busy turning over tapestries. The last one, an elaborate work of art depicting her father’s victory over Mundoo—the chief of the