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“Might want to move quickly.” Clover nods toward the man on the ground. “I’m not sure how much blood he has left.”

The guard groans, and I feel a twinge of pity for him. When I was placed on guard duty, I hated nights like these, too.

* * *

“I’ve never beenbehind bars before,” Clover says as she leans against the side of the jail cell, refusing to sit on the filthy floor. She turns to look at the constable. “You sent a message to the castle, didn’t you?”

“I did,” the bored man says, frowning at the table as he chooses where to place his next card. “Several hours ago.”

“To Lawrence?”

The man flicks his eyes up, traveling over Clover as if assessing her again. It’s obvious he finds her attractive…but difficult.

I understand all too well—I’ve felt the same about Clover myself.

“If it makes it that far,” the constable says.

“If I stay here all night, you, sir, will be out of a job come morning,” she says hotly.

“Calm down.” I gently tug her arm. “They’re going to realize you’re missing anytime now.”

She looks back at me. “It’s the middle of the night. They don’t even know I’m gone.”

“Maisel will tell Lawrence.”

“You have more confidence in her than I do,” Clover says.

Our attackers share the holding cell with us. The swordsman I knocked out is awake now. He and his companion refuse to talk. The third needs medical care, but a female guard roughly wrapped a bandage around his chest to keep him from “bleeding all over the cursed floor” and decided that was good enough. He lies on a filthy straw pallet. Sweat beads on his face, and his chest moves with his labored breaths.

Like us, the men carried no identification. It was apparently a night for illicit missions.

A guard about Clover’s age comes into the room to ask the constable a question, and he glances into the cell. He pauses when he spots my accomplice in crime, cocking his head to the side. “You’re…”

Clover steps up to the bars eagerly. “You recognize me?”

“Of course I do. You’re that girl who was arrested last year for that string of burglaries, aren’t you?” He sets his hands on his hips and squares up to Clover. “What did I tell you about getting your life back on track? What’d you do this time?”

Clover growls and turns around, pressing her back to the bars. “This is madness.”

“What in oblivion is going on here?” Lawrence demands from the doorway, startling us all.

The guard’s jaw falls open, and the constable drops his cards and scrambles to his feet. “Your Majesty!”

“Oh sure,” Clover says to me, “they recognizehim.”

Lawrence jerks his head toward the cell. “Let the woman out.”

“What about Henrik?” Clover demands.

Lawrence sighs. “Fine, let him out, too.”

“Much appreciated,” I say dryly, extending my hands as the constable fumbles with his keys to release my cuffs.

“I have so many questions,” Lawrence says, shaking his head as he eyes the men in the cell. “I’m not even sure where to start. Are these the men you robbed?”

“We didn’t rob anyone!” Clover exclaims, sending an icy look at the constable.

Now that she stands next to Lawrence, the man looks slightly less comfortable. “Forgive me, I—”