The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,33
to flatten it, turning sideways to consider my new shape. With the right shirt, I think it will work fine. I use an even longer one to thicken my waist so I look less curvy, which also helps me shift my walk from my hips to my shoulders. My voice and face could probably pass for those of a young boy, but my hair might be a problem. It isn’t unusual for boys to have long hair, but mine is longer than any stable hand’s I’ve ever seen, and thick. I also have a habit of twisting it with my fingers and fussing with it in ways that could give me away.
A heavy pair of silver shears sticks out of my sewing basket. My heart skips a beat as I glare at them.
I take a deep breath. I don’t think of myself as a vain person, but my long, thick hair is as much a part of me as my brown eyes or the trio of freckles on my left hand. I pick up the scissors. I set them down again. But I know I have no choice—I have to do this.
I yank my hair back into a ponytail, pick up the shears, close my eyes, and chop it off in one swoop. I open both eyes and run my hands through what’s left. I’m a little shocked, and a little saddened.
But the worst is done, so I trim the rest. Closer to my head, but still a little shaggy, leaving some curl at the nape of my neck and at the top. Like a boy who needs a haircut.
I get dressed in black pants and a loose tunic with a tighter shirt underneath and put my sturdiest boots at the side of the bed, ready to go. I have the forged work order and all the coins in a pouch at my hip. I’d leave now but I don’t want to spend too much time out in the dark. If I wait a few more hours, the rising sun will provide enough light for a journey.
All the potential problems with my plan repeat in my mind over and over again, endlessly. It’s impossible to quiet my nerves. I review my preparations, certain I’m forgetting something, though everything seems to be in order. As soon as I get to Deersia, I’ll find a way to help Caledon escape, and he’ll be so grateful, so impressed with my bravery and cunning, that of course he will take me on as his apprentice.
At the first sign of golden light at the horizon, I jump up and lace my boots. When I get to my bedroom door, I stop to take one last look at the dresses hanging on their hooks, at the girl I could have been. It may be my imagination but they look a little forlorn.
I creep down the stairs, edging as close to the wall as I can to avoid those creaks. I hear Aunt Mesha snoring. Moriah is a quiet sleeper. They’re going to be absolutely furious when they wake up. In the end I hope they’ll be proud of me, though.
Before I slip out the back door, I leave ten gold coins and a short note on the kitchen table: You know that I need to do this. Tell my mother I am safe. I love you both.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shadow
I MAKE IT TO SERRONE—TORSO bound, hair shorn, clad in stable hand’s garb—just after the sun rises. The crisp morning air chills the back of my bare neck. I hadn’t thought to bring a scarf.
The palace looms over the village. I feel as though it’s watching me. Like it knows I am escaping, and does not approve.
The Brass Crab is closed and won’t open for hours, which is a good thing. The proprietor buys honey for mead all the time. I’m certain he would recognize me. Otherwise there are few people up and about. I see the baker through his shop window; he doesn’t look up or notice when I walk by. The glove-maker’s wife sweeps the walk in front of his workshop and though I pass less than a yard from her, she offers no more than a polite nod of the head.