He frowned and knelt before me, unlacing each boot until he could fit his fingers inside to check for any weapons. I clenched my jaw, determined to endure this last part with some shred of dignity. He reached up over the top of my skirts to feel for my legs, running his hands down the left first, and then the right. On my right thigh, he paused.
"What's that?"
"It's not a weapon."
"But it could hold one. Give it to me."
"That's indecent."
"You can fetch it, or I will. Your choice, Princess."
My choice? Like, did I prefer to die by hanging or beheading? Did I prefer the taste of hemlock or mandrake? Were my feelings about Coracks closer to loathing or hatred?
I turned away from the rebels, lifting my skirts only as much as was necessary to roll the garter down my leg and over my boot. I handed it to Simon with a glare that could have melted iron. I was still afraid--it'd be foolish not to be--but I was far more angry.
Simon stood and passed the garter to Tenger with a report that I had no weapons with me. Maybe I didn't now, but I'd get one as soon as possible.
And when I did, I already knew my first target.
The boy my father had somehow failed to kill when he'd had the chance.
Satisfied that I was unarmed, Tenger put my garter in his vest pocket, then gestured toward my carriage. "Perhaps you and I can continue this conversation in private."
Alone? My stomach twisted. "I won't go in there with you."
"You will, my lady."
Simon took my arm, but I twisted against his grip and got one hand free, which I used to swing at his face. I sideswiped his jaw, an indirect hit that didn't do nearly as much damage as I'd hoped. In the process, I tripped over my unlaced boots and fell to the ground, causing every rebel in the group to burst out with laughter.
Feeling the heat of embarrassment, I kept my head down and started to lace up my right boot. Simon was ordered beside me to lace up the left.
"Do you know me?" I asked him.
Without offering a shred of recognition, he returned the question. "Do you know me?"
"Simon ..." His full name clicked into my mind. "Hatch." He looked up, startled. "You're supposed to be dead. My father ordered your hanging."
"Your father ordered an eleven-year-old boy to be hanged." He made no effort to hide his bitterness. "I was eleven. Let that sink in, Princess."
I was no princess, and he knew it. If he meant to demean me with such a word, it was unnecessary. I was already humiliated enough.
Once my boots were laced, Simon offered me a hand up but I refused it, testing to see what would happen if I ignored their orders.
"You'll walk to the carriage, or I'll drag you there," he said. "I don't care which it is."
I looked again for Celia and Darrow, but both had been removed from my sight. To Tenger, I said, "Guarantee my servants' lives."
He casually waved off that demand. "We'll treat your driver's wound, or dump him by the side of the road, as we please. If you resist, your maid will be next to suffer. Do not try to trick us."
I wouldn't try to trick them, I had to succeed at it. But not enough to endanger Celia's and Darrow's lives. I got to my feet, then we walked past the area where Darrow had fallen. The cloying scent of his blood overpowered me and I retched.
I should've run before. If I had, maybe they'd have left Darrow and Celia alone and only gone after me.
Or maybe they'd have killed them both first. My servants were alive and needed to remain that way. I had to remember that.
Tenger entered my carriage first, then offered a hand to help me inside. I brushed it aside and climbed in on my own. Simon began to close the door behind us, but Tenger
said, "No, I want you in here."