Free In Defense of the Queen by Michelle Diener

guaranteed free passage.”
    “And Harry?” Peter Jack scowled.
    Parker cocked his head, looked properly at Peter Jack. “Harry and his lads are going to help me spy on Wolsey. To see who comes to him with information, and to watch where he goes.” He kept his voice calm, fighting the urge to roar. He did not have time for anything but immediate obedience.
    “They were once my lads, too.”
    “’Til you gave it all up for this.” Harry spoke quietly, hand flicking the air to encompass the kitchen, the house. The security of it all.
    “You’re in here, too, aren’t you?” Peter Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “You look to have gotten the best of both.” He turned to Parker, his eyes narrowed. “You always leave me behind, and take him into the thick of the action—”
    “Stop it.” Eric shoved Peter Jack hard enough to make him stumble. His slight body, only shoulder-height to his brother, vibrated with rage. “You think you’re left out of the action? What about me? You don’t think protecting my lady is a worthy job? I’ll do it.” He spun, facing Parker. “I’ll do it!”
    Parker flicked his gaze from face to face. How had this blown up now, when every second counted? “Peter Jack, you once told Susanna you’d fight for her—”
    “Yes, I’ll fight for her. I want to kill her swine of a brother for doing this to us, I want to help stop Wolsey. Not sit in the Tower with her, sucking my teeth.”
    “I’ll watch her.” Harry stepped closer to Eric, touched a quivering shoulder. “Maybe we can do it together? You’re good in a fight, Eric, but the Tower Wardens are big, and if something happens . . . you could get help while I stand guard.”
    Peter Jack opened his mouth, but Parker had had enough. “Harry, your lads will report to me, or Peter Jack?”
    Harry gave a nod. “I’ll speak to them.” He turned without waiting and left, leaving the door open behind him.
    Peter Jack watched him go, a hunted look in his eyes.
    “Sir, I—”
    Parker held up a hand, and in the silence that followed, he heard a sound.
    The creak of floorboards by the entrance.
    He launched himself at the passageway, but the front door had already slammed shut. When he flung it open and ran out into Crooked Lane, there was no one there.
    He spun on his heel, almost colliding with Peter Jack, and raced back into the house, up the stairs and burst into the spare room.
    Lucas Horenbout sat with his head in his hands on the bed. On the floor lay the rope that had tied Jan Heyman, but the musician had gone.
    “What did you do?” Parker slapped Lucas’s hands away, and his head jerked up.
    His face was pale, tinged with green, and his hand shook as he lifted it to wipe away a line of sweat on his brow.
    “What did you tie Jan up for? He woke me, begging to be released.” His voice was weak, wavering.
    Parker took a step back. Breathed deeply. The air in the room was stale, and he could smell the sharp odour of sweat.
    “Where is Susanna?” Lucas gently lifted his hand to press the skin around the lump at the back of his head.
    “Exactly where you made sure she would go.” Parker walked to the window and flung it open to purge the sour air of the room. “The Tower.”
    * * *
    The walls of Susanna’s prison were whitewashed, and set with dark beams. Her windows were large, paned with glass, and looked out over Tower Green, to the menace of the White Tower.
    There was little furniture in the expansive, comfortable rooms, though, and she could only think that they had been taken for use elsewhere. A table and chair sat under one of the windows and two short benches were angled near the fireplace. That was the sum of it.
    Kilburne eyed the room critically and muttered something about finding more furnishings.
    She did not care if he did, or not. She wandered though a doorway, and found the bedchamber. There was a bed in it. An enormous one, and she could only think it had not been taken because of the