Free In Her Shadow by Sally Beth Boyle Page A

and smuggle no matter what. The abbey controlled that, measured it, kept in and check. Britta would have wagered the abbey caught and punished more criminals than the Regnal garrison ever had. The implication they – and by extension, she – would be involved in the kidnapping of a nobleman's daughter was ridiculous and offensive.
    Britta stomped one foot forward then thought better of it. Mid-stride, cheeks burning with rage, she swiveled away from them. Someone grabbed her arm.
    "I swear to the Goddess, the next person who grabs me there–"
    The hand yanked her around until she faced the Dux himself. "Help us," he said, his voice firm, commanding.
    "Why should I?"
    "Please." Something about the Dux's voice shifted. Slight, nearly imperceptible, a ripple under the surface of a calm lake. "She's my daughter."
     

Chapter 9
     
    Britta dashed through the streets. She'd opted not to go under guard – too slow. The soldiers didn't know the city the way she did, the divots, the back alleys, potholes and gutters, especially not at night. The Governor had tried to insist, but she rebuffed him for that reason and another: the political situation was tenuous. Did he know it? Could he feel it in the air the way she could? She didn't have to eavesdrop on the whispers and murmurs of the citizenry, she could sense it. The whole city knew, the Abbess of Night most assuredly did. In that, Britta wasn't bringing news to the old woman, but acting as an envoy. If she had soldiers with her, that might make the Abbess nervous, make the abbey think their New Moon had already slipped into Regnal hands. Britta knew that. If she wanted the Abbess of Night's help–
    Britta froze in place at the old gate leading to the abbey. A shiver shot through her. Of course the Abbess knew. She'd probably orchestrated it. Right? Was going to her a mistake? Not the sort Britta would be punished for, most likely. Assuming her suspicions were true, the Abbess had planned for this too. So should she play along or what?
    Indecision was her only response. So she stood in the night air, counting her breaths as she considered the situation. Could the Abbess of Night have done this? Could – yes. But could have and would have were two different things. The second one was what vexed Britta. The old woman was sneaky, duplicitous by nature. Worse, she was grumpy, querulous. That being said, she wasn't stupid. She lived in a dubious political situation. This was the sort of pretext the Regnals needed to bypass their treaty and simply annex the city. They could skip all the formalities of power sharing, the slow absorption of Ankshara into the imperial fold. No, kidnapping Ava was much too dangerous for the abbey, for Ankshara. There was no way the Abbess would have risked giving the Governor the excuse he needed to crack down.
    Maybe that was it. Maybe it hadn't been the Abbess of Night, but one of the Regnals. Not the Dux. No. Perhaps she might have suspected him of such cold calculation before, but seeing him tonight, the split second where his practiced calm faltered and genuine concern for his daughter shined through, erased any of her doubts.
    The Governor himself, however; he might have. He barely knew the girl, most likely, having lived so far apart for so long. More, Regnals didn't value daughters as much as they did sons, and he might have seen her as the key to political expedience. Was he capable of that level of cruelty? To steal his own granddaughter to use as a pretext for conquest? Maybe. Britta didn't know enough to say.
    There also remained the possibility the girl had simply wandered off. But the Regnals didn't seem to be under that impression. Britta hadn't thought to ask why.
    Whichever of these things were true, it did no good to stand outside all night pondering. She had to act.  Britta took the steps to the porch two at a time, and breezed inside, then up the steps of the main hall and down to the Abbess of Night's room. The door cracked before