Page 3 of Heart of the Hunter (Band of Bastards #3)

A s he led her across the room, he stopped at the table in the center, licked his thumb and forefinger, then pressed them to the wick of the candle to snuff the flame and douse the light.

With her wrist still clutched in his hand, he kept her close to him as he moved through the darkness to the tapestry concealing the entry to a long corridor that ran the length of the castle wall behind the great hall.

“Two steps up,” he whispered to her as he held the tapestry away from the wall.

He heard a faint grunt as her toe scuffed against the stone step, but she did not trip.

With his hand on the damp stones, he retraced his steps from earlier in the night when he’d come this way to search for incriminating documents.

Fortunately, he found something of use among the parchments; unfortunately, he’d left with more than he planned when he found Anora in the castle.

But he’d get her safely away from here even if it meant he had to kill every guard in the castle to do it.

She was sure-footed despite the blackness of the corridor, and unexpectedly deft on her feet.

The moon was hidden behind clouds when he first entered the castle, which was his preference, but that meant that not even the dimmest of light shone through the narrow openings in the outer wall to guide them.

There were a few small windows that looked down into the great hall below, but with only one sconce lit at the far end of that room, it was not enough to be of any significance inside the narrow corridor.

As they reached the far end of the passageway and turned to the right, the dim light from the spiraling stairwell of the north tower could be seen.

He stopped to listen for guards on patrol and was about to take a step forward when he heard the soft thuds of footsteps as someone ascended the stairs.

He turned and guided Anora back along the passageway they had just come through until he reached an alcove and tucked her into it.

He leaned close and commanded in a low whisper, “Stay here until I come back for you.”

He returned to the staircase and pressed himself against the wall, just out of the reach of the dim light and waited.

The head of a man appeared, his faced turned down toward his midsection.

He stopped on the landing as he fumbled with the belt at his waist. Hunter recognized the tabard the man wore, emblazoned with a simple green-and-white herald, as that worn by the baron’s guardsmen.

If the man continued straight, he would walk directly into Hunter hidden in the shadows.

But to Hunter’s good fortune, the guard rounded the corner into the other opening as he pulled his belt and sword free, then disappeared into the alcove.

He heard a faint shuffle of clothing, then a thud as the man’s bare arse dropped onto the wood plank seat of the privy.

Hunter contemplated whether to rid himself of the threat of the guard while he was vulnerable, or to retrieve Anora to slip down the stairs while the guard was occupied and otherwise indisposed.

He heard a long groan and a muttered curse and decided it was best to take advantage of the man’s distressed state to make their escape.

He returned to Anora in a few quick steps, whispered to her to remain absolutely silent, and pulled her along behind him toward the stairwell.

There was a wretched smell in the air and the man emitted miserable moans from the privy as they entered the spiraling staircase of the tower and started their descent.

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused at the open door out to the bailey.

The doorway was tucked into a corner where the castle wall joined the tower, out of sight from most of the castle yard, but visible to the patrols on the wall walk across the bailey.

He was not surprised to see another guard leaned against the stone wall as he gazed out onto the castle yard and awaited the return of his mate from the privy above stairs.

Hunter regretted his choice to pass by the first guard without putting him out of commission.

The likelihood of him stumbling from the tower before Hunter could immobilize his partner was greater than he cared for when he had Anora to think about.

He couldn’t leave her in the tower while he made quick work of the man outside for fear the first guard would come upon her before he was done.

He didn’t relish the thought of killing more men, but he hoped Anora wouldn’t protest when he did what was necessary for their escape.

He turned to her and crooked his finger at her to follow him from the tower. Once clear of the door, he quietly pushed her back into the dark cleft between the tower and the curtainwall, out of sight if the first guard exited the doorway before he could return for her.

Dread washed over Hunter when he heard the guard by the wall speak to someone out of sight from his vantage point, but he breathed a sigh of relief when it became apparent the man merely sang raunchy limericks to pass the time.

He moved as quickly as he dared along the wall as he sneaked up behind the man and wrapped an arm around his neck, then forcefully bumped the back of his knees to make his legs give out.

The guard fell back into him and Hunter shoved his head forward as he crumbled and quickly snapped his neck to the side.

He’d wanted to avoid leaving a trail of bodies on their way out of the castle, but that was now impossible.

After the guard’s body went limp against him, he hooked him under the arms and dragged his corpse back toward the dark corner next to the tower.

Anora was staring at him with her mouth hanging open in shock, but thankfully she stayed silent.

He motioned with his chin for her to step out of the way then leaned the guard against the corner and pushed his legs as far as possible into the shadows.

The other guard had yet to make an appearance.

Hunter stuck his head in the door to the tower and listened, determined the guard in the privy was still indisposed, then took Anora by the hand and led her along in the shadow of the castle wall.

When they reached the corner, Hunter peered around the edge of the wall, made a quick calculation as to whether or not they could cross the yard to the southernmost tower before the guards on the wall noticed them.

He spied a pair of guards patrolling the parapets above as they made their way to the tower closest to them.

When they crossed over the tower and started their trek south on the wall walk, Hunter took the opportunity to edge along in the shadows below where the guards could not see them unless they bent over the parapets and looked straight down.

He’d not seen any other patrols and guessed that the light guard duty was a result of the baron and most of his men being absent from the castle.

They reached the southern tower without incident and slipped inside.

“Tell me you didn’t kill that man,” Anora whispered to his back.

“The list of offenses is growing,” he drawled at her as he took a small torch from the wall sconce and turned to her.

To his relief, she didn’t protest despite the way her face paled.

He hitched his chin in a silent command to follow him and led her through the first doorway into a narrow corridor.

After a few steps, it widened into a larger sitting area with cushioned benches facing a long, narrow gap in the opposite wall that looked into a chapel.

He peered through the opening to assure himself no one lingered in the nave.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Private viewing room of the chapel for the lord of the castle. He can redeem his soul without mingling with those he deems beneath him. That door there,” he said with a tip of his head toward the far end of the room, “leads to the confessional inside the chapel.”

“How do you know this?” she asked. “Do you come here often to confess?”

He turned his head to face her, the smirk on her lips clearly visible in the light from the torch in his hand.

He liked it more than he should when she teased him, though he never knew how to respond without sounding like an arrogant dolt.

And now was not really the time for banter considering they trespassed where they did not belong. “I’d have to feel guilt to confess.”

“Or remorse. Have you any?” She looked at him with earnest curiosity, but he knew the innocent look was feigned by the twitch of her lips as she fought to keep the corners from turning up in a smirk he’d come to know well.

“Never,” he growled with irritation meant for himself at his inability to stay focused when in her presence. “Stop talking.”

Ignoring the immediate ire that flushed her face at being told what to do, he pulled open the door and motioned her to pass through into the confessional booth, which was larger than most due to the private entrance for the lord of the castle.

She waited for him in the confined space as he closed the door behind them and held the small torch high enough to avoid starting their hair on fire.

He had to grit his teeth together not to think about how near she was and the things he wanted to do to her behind the drapes of the intimately close space if circumstances were different.

He let out a soft snort of laughter at the thought that God might strike him dead with a bolt of lightning for such sacrilege.

“Why do you laugh?” Anora whispered as she looked through a gap in the curtains into the small chapel. “And why are we in a confessional?”