Free The Traitor's Daughter by Paula Brandon

solicitous.”
    “I’ve seen her solicitousing all over the place, and I’ll have none of her powders and potions!”
    “Well, you’ll just have to get used to the idea, because you are going to break a bottle of perfume this evening, and the fumes will drive us out until such time as our bed linen has been changed and our room properly aired. We shall surely find ourselves obliged to dine in the common room along with the ordinary travelers, but I fear there’s no help for it.”
    “I hear you, maidenlady. I catch your drift, but you got to promise me that I won’t lose my place over’t.”
    “You goose, do you think I could do without you? Of course I promise. You trust me to look after you, don’t you?”
    “I trust you to mean to, maidenlady.”
    “Good, then we’re agreed. Now, when you break the bottle, I want you to let out a convincing cry of dismay. Think you can do that?”
    “I think that’s slopping on too much gravy, maidenlady.”
    “No, it’s just the right touch. You’ll see. I just want you to—”
    “Begging your pardon, maidenlady, but all this is making me too nervous. I got to go.”
    “Go?”
    “Behind a tree, before my voluntary functions become un-voluntary.”
    “Oh. Off with you, then. And while you’re about it, you might practice your cry of dismay.”
    Reeni retired from view. Jianna cast a look back at the carriage, its once gleaming surface now liberally spattered with mud. The driver was dancing attendance on the horses. A couple of the guards had dismounted to light their clay pipes. Three others orbited the site in vigilant silence. The sixth, presumably answering nature’s call, was nowhere in evidence. Nothing interesting to be seen. Jianna strolled on, skirts lifted a fastidious inch to clear the wet leaves but otherwise blind to her surroundings, mind galloping on along the Orezzia road into the future.
    A feminine shriek from the woods brought her back to the present. It was obviously Reeni practicing her cry of dismay as instructed, and very convincing it was, too. Perhaps a little too convincing, for the sound caught the attention of the guards, who promptly dropped their pipes and drew their short swords. Oh, bother . When they discovered the false alarm, they were bound to be annoyed, and there would be words.
    The cry repeated itself. The girl was overdoing it. But an instant later one of the mounted guards yelled and clutched himself, while another tumbled headlong from his saddle. Jianna stared, astounded. The first man, bloodied and moaning, had his hand locked around the shaft of the crossbow quarrel protruding from his midsection. The other lay facedown in the dead leaves. Even as she stood gaping, a second volley flew from the woods and two more guards fell.
    They could not be dead, not just like that. It was too fast and final.
    A hand closed on her arm and she spun to face another guard, the one lost to view the last time she had looked. His face was set so hard that she instinctively recoiled, but already he was moving her, handling her as if she were a piece of baggage, half dragging and half pushing her along. For a moment she pulled back, then realized that he was steering her back to the carriage and abandoned resistance. When they reached the vehicle he shoved her inside to join her aunt, slammed the door shut, and positioned himself before it.
    “Highwaymen?” she yelled at him, and received no reply. “Go get my maid,” she commanded, but he ignored her. Even in the midst of her alarm, the anger rose. She was the magnifico’s daughter, and he was a hireling; he ought to obey her. “Aunt Flonoria,” she appealed, turning to face her kinswoman. “Would you tell him that he has to go get—” She broke off with a gasp at sight of the quarrel transfixing the other’s throat. Flonoria’s expansive bosom was soaked with blood. Her eyes and mouth were wide open. Jianna’s own incredulous expression was not dissimilar. She half expected