Page 3 of Lady Knight and the Thief
Truly, Cypress believed it was a miracle no one had discovered her identity yet. She had been serving as the Captain of the Prince's Guard for several years now, only speaking when absolutely necessary. All of the men in her guard had much deeper voices than Cypress could ever hope of imitating. If the rest of the Prince Guard knew Lady Cypress and Captain Cy to be one and the same, none had mentioned it.
Cypress pulled back the curtain for the Prince’s tent, her eyes adjusting to the much darker interior after a moment. Finding no one inside, Cypress aimed for the small chaise lounge situated along one of the walls and resigned herself to a little light reading while she waited for the Prince and Oswald to return.
Prince Cade’s tent was decorated much more thoroughly than her own, with various trinkets and items from the castle situated on every surface. Gold candelabras waited for nightfall on the desk. A large copper tub was placed on the far wall, on a raised platform beneath which a fire could be lit. The embers were used to keep the bath warm.
Cypress shook her head and flipped through the pages of the book until she found where she’d last left off. She couldn’t fathom making a servant haul enough water to her tent, eitherall the wayfrom the Keep, or from the nearby creek. Either option would be quite the trek to fill a tub of this size.Andlet alone the fact that Cade requested it be filled each night for a fortnight. There were some things about royalty she would never understand.
2
The Thief & The Liar
Cypresswasnearlydonewith her chapter—the heroine about to uncover the plot against the throne—when she heard the canvas tent rip.
Or, rather, the canvas beingcut.
Immediately, Cypress snapped the book shut and set it aside. Her gaze swept the room, spotting her sword propped against the desk—precisely where she had left it before her bouts. Though it was not unusual for a woman to carry a weapon, the court ladiesdid not;Cypress was an anomaly in that regard. She suspected this was also why she did not have friends among the noble ladies.
Cypress stayed alert, ready for anything—even without moving from the chaise. Another might leap up and grab their sword, but if she waited, she could learn more—like what the intruder wanted. She still had the advantage, since they didn’t know she was there.
Only moments later, the intruder appeared between the slit in the canvas, crouched low over their knees.
Cypress swallowed her smirk, then gasped in mock fright. “Oh!” She said, pressing the book to her chest with a hastily painted, shocked expression across her face. Cypress had seen the ladies-in-waiting make similar gestures when something particularly scandalous was said.
The intruder paused, turning a hooded head toward Cypress. She pressed herself deeper into the lounge.
The person stood and took a few strides toward Cypress. The tip of their hood barely brushed the support beams holding up the canvas. Dark boots and gloves. A similarly colored shirt. Tailored pants of fine cloth. A black cape with embroidery. Not the garb of a beggar from the nearby village, emboldened by the throne’s riches. The male before her was accustomed to comfort.
No, the thief before her was accustomed to some comforts– and was likely skilled with the sword at their hip.
“Don’t–don’t come any closer,” Cypress said with a wobble, scooting back on the chaise. “Wh-what do you want?”
If Cypress’s twenty-eight name days had taught her anything, it was that menfolk couldn’t help themselves when there was adamselto save, and they saw every woman as one. Cypress was extremely adept at exploiting that miscalculation.
“I won’t harm ye, Lass. Stay out of my way,” the thief said, raising his hands in surrender as he stepped into the light. A few days' stubble framed a strong jaw, plump lips, and a hooked nose clearly broken more than once. There was a small hoop of gold piercing his nostril. Black cloth masked his eyes—a piercing, pale gray-blue. And, a stray dark lock was flopped over his brow.
Cypress scrambled into a standing position, closer to her sword. “What do you want?” She asked again, pressing one hand to her middle, again imitating the ladies at court.
“I’m just looking for something. And I can see you scheming inside that pretty head of yours, Lass. Stay away from that blade, I don’t want ye to hurt yourself,” The thief said, eyes scanningthe room as if searching for a specific item, his thick, lilting accent rising and falling.
Cypress mirrored the movement, getting that much closer to her sword. “The Prince is not here,” She said, trying to determinewhatthe thief was looking for.
There was gold and a handful of jewels—gifts from the Prince’s court. Yet, the furniture and cloth alone could easily feed a family for a moon cycle with what they would fetch at the textile markets. If the thief was after gold and jewels, all he would need to do is lift it from the pockets of nobility that walked as if they owned the grass's right to grow. The Prince's tent was a rash target, unless he was looking for something specific.
“Don’t concern yourself, Lass; let's not ruin that dress, hmm?” The thief coaxed, rifling through drawers and emptying them onto the floor as Cypress inched toward the sword.
Cypress could likely beat him without it, but shedidlike this dress.
The thief upended a table, sending it crashing to the ground. Despite herself, Cypress jumped at the noise.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If I just shoutguard, you’ll be trapped,” Cypress tried, her fingers just inches away from the sword at her side.
“Then do it, Lass. Let’s see if you can scream before I silence that pretty mouth,” The thief said, grinning at her with his head tilted to the side.
Cypress curled her lip, disgust coloring her tone as she said, “I’d like to see you try.”
Then, she grabbed her blade, raising it in the air between them as the thief upended another small table, sweeping his hand through the items now on the floor.
For a thief, he didn’t seem very…stealthy. Cypress would have thought stealth was a top priority for a thief.
