Page 49 of Taming the Eagle
Eogan had told her the attack would come at the next full moon. The stormy weather obscured the sky this evening, yet the night before, she’d seen the moon had reached its full quarter.
Fenella’s stomach fluttered. After Eogan’s capture, she hadn’t been able to focus on escape. Yet now her brother was free, she needed to renew her efforts.
When her people attacked, she had to be ready to go.
Stepping outdoors, Fenella pulled her goat-skin wrap close to ward off the damp wind and made her way down the steps of the praetorium.
“Where are you off to?” One of the guards greeted her tersely.
“Ava has run out of bread,” Fenella replied, patting the empty basket. “I’m to collect some loaves from the bakehouse.”
The guard’s dark gaze narrowed. “Alone?”
Fenella held his eye and nodded.
Even so, her heart started to race, her palms turning clammy. Aye, the cook had sent her out alone—and it was a chance she wouldn’t squander. The stormy weather had lasted a few days, and Kahina had gotten drenched while at market. She’d now come down with a nasty cold, and had taken to her bed for the afternoon. As such, Fenella was doing both their chores.
“Everyone’s busy,” Fenella replied, forcing her tone to remain light, respectful. “Ava trusts me.”
The guard snorted before sharing a look with his companion.
Fenella’s breathing stilled. It had been a while since she’d caused any trouble; surely, they could give her a little freedom?
“The bakehouse is but a stone’s throw from here,” she murmured. “I will be back shortly.”
The two legionaries exchanged glances once more, before the one she’d been speaking to shrugged and turned back to her. “Go on then,” he muttered. “Don’t drag your feet.”
“I won’t,” she assured him.
Fenella then moved away from the praetorium, skirting a large puddle, before stepping out onto the wide street and turning right. And as she hurried away, a smile of victory curved her lips.
At last!
The way was wet after the heavy rains, and her boots squelched through the mud. Peering up at the sky, Fenella noted ominous purple-grey clouds hanging overhead. Spots of rain gusted in with the wind. It looked as if the bad weather wasn’t ready to depart just yet.
Fenella went to the bakehouse first and loaded her basket up with round loaves. The bread was still warm from the ovens, the nutty aroma enticing.
The baker ogled her as he passed over the loaves, before murmuring something coarse.
She clenched her jaw and smiled sweetly, pretending not to understand. However, her Latin had improved considerably of late, and she wished to knee him in the balls for his insult.
Leaving the bakehouse, she crossed the street, walking purposefully. It was important not to look hesitant, or she’d arouse suspicion.
Fenella’s breathing quickened.Now for the difficult part.
One of the granary buildings lay across from the bakehouse. The doors were open, and so she slipped inside, silently praying to the gods that she’d find it empty.
It was.
The interior of the granary was dim, making it difficult to see. Halting, Fenella blinked a few times, breathing in the musty air as she waited for her eyes to adjust. Fortunately, she knew what she’d come for here, so she wouldn’t be fumbling around in the dark.
She’d spied a coil of rope a few days earlier when she’d accompanied Aedan to pick up some sacks of barley. She just hoped it was still there.
Moving right, Fenella’s gaze searched the far wall. Her mouth quirked into a smile when she spied the rope.
Grabbing it, she then set her basket down—removing the loaves a moment so she could tuck the coil underneath them.
She’d just replaced the bread and was rising to her feet when a young man entered the granary.