As soon as I got out of the room and ran down the hallway, I turned a corner and stopped to examine the seal on Lord Robert's reply. I cursed. The wax was still wet. I'd destroy the paper if I tried to undo it. Thinking I could tarry until it dried sufficiently, I moved into the ward.

I reminded myself not to act precipitously. Anything I did could turn against me. Still, I couldn't deliver Robert's reply and simply wait for whatever happened next. The hunt had begun. If I was right, Elizabeth would become the first of the two royal sisters to end up in the Tower, especially when Robert learned she'd never consent to a plot that hinged on both her siblings' deaths. I desperately wanted to see Cecil, but I had no idea of how to reach the secretary, nor had he offered, which didn't say much for my fledgling skills as a spy.

I would have to warn Elizabeth myself, while I delivered the letter.

Which meant I had to somehow see her in person.

I crossed the ward and entered a short pa.s.sage leading to the stairs Robert had mentioned. I turned my attention back to the seal, about to worry it a bit when a sudden movement caught my eye. For a second I couldn't move. Then I bent to my boot and took my dagger from its sheath. I shifted toward a nearby doorway. The door was ajar. I'd seen a figure slip past it.

I inched forth, my dagger in my fist. I drew short stifled breaths through my nose, but even this sounded too loud to my ears. Whoever waited for me could at this moment be drawing a far more lethal weapon than the blade I brandished, readying to cleave my skull the moment I inched over the threshold. Or perhaps it wasn't my death he sought. He had stalked me through the streets of London and not taken me when he'd had the chance. He had come to Greenwich, presumably after me. Now he was lurking in this room.

I came to a halt. Cold sweat beaded my brow; as a drop slid down my temple I found to my horror that I couldn't take the final step that would bring me inside. I couldn't reach out and throw the door open, announcing my presence.

Coward. Get in there. Face the b.a.s.t.a.r.d and be done with it.

I reached out, every finger stretched taut. I grazed wood. With a simultaneous uplifting of my blade and savage push at the door, I leapt into the room, a half cry on my lips.

A skeletal man stood there, dressed in black.

I exhaled in fury. "Christ. I could have killed you."

Walsingham returned my stare. "I doubt it. Shut that door. I'd rather we weren't seen."

I closed the door with a kick of my heel. He was the last person I'd expected to see.

The slight tilt to his lips might have pa.s.sed for a smile. "I'm here for your report."

"Report? What report?"

"For our mutual employer, of course. Unless you've returned your dubious loyalties to that pack of scheming traitors who reared you."

I returned his stare. "I don't answer to you."

"Oh? I believe you do. Indeed, our employer has entrusted me with your welfare. Henceforth, you take your instructions from me." He paused, with marked intent. "That means that whatever you have to report, you will report directly to me."

In the starkness of the chamber he looked taller and so gaunt the light seemed to pierce his skin and skim the angles of his cadaverous face. His eyes were sunken, black and dull as cinders, the eyes of a man who has seen and done things I could not imagine.

I made myself sheathe my dagger. I didn't trust him. He had an air of immorality about him, a corruption he wore like a second skin. He was probably capable of doing anything to suit his purpose, without thinking about it twice. But he still had to answer to Cecil, and in my current straits, I had to oblige him. To a point.

With my other hand still clenched about Robert's note, I said: "I only just arrived. I have nothing to report."

"You're lying." His stare bore into me. "I do not relish the antics of callow boys, nor am I in favor of employing them. But I will accommodate our employer's misguided trust in you, for now. Therefore, I'll ask once more. What do you have to report?"

I debated, prolonging the moment just enough to see his jaw edge. Then, with deliberate reluctance, I opened my hand to reveal the crushed missive. "Well, there is this."

He took it from me. He had peculiarly feminine hands, soft and white and no doubt icy to the touch. He slid a long nail under the seal. With expert precision, he unglued it from the paper. After reading the missive he refolded it, pressing the damp seal back in place.

"An ideal place for a rendezvous," he said, handing the paper to me. "Secluded, unfrequented, yet close to a postern gate. Her Grace plays this game well."

The note of chill admiration in his otherwise pa.s.sionless voice surprised me. "You approve? But I thought..." I paused. I didn't know what I thought. I had been instructed to retain Robert's confidence, to listen and report, and to facilitate, if instructed, the princess's escape. I suddenly realized no one had hired me to think, and I felt exactly like what he had called me-a callow fool, my strings yanked by some unseen puppeteer.

Walsingham regarded me. "Did you think we had days in which to fine-tune our plan? Proof enough of how unsuitable you are. In matters such as these, success depends on initiative. It is something an experienced intelligencer would understand."

"Look here," I replied, and I couldn't ease an infuriating tremor from my voice. "I didn't ask to get involved in this. You forced me into it, remember? Neither you nor Cecil gave me a choice. If I hadn't agreed to help, no doubt I'd be at the bottom of the river by now."

"We always have a choice. You just took the one that you think will give you the most advantage, as does every man. Anything else you care to remonstrate about?"

Again, he took me off guard. I couldn't think of anyone I'd less prefer to give my information to. But withholding wouldn't help Elizabeth.

"I overheard Lady Dudley and Lord Robert talking." I kept my tone impersonal. "His lordship will send Lord Robert to capture the Lady Mary. He also refused Robert's request to see Her Grace and present what my master calls his 'proposal.' You should tell Cecil the duke may have another purpose in mind for her than the one we think."

I paused. Walsingham remained expressionless.

"It stands to reason it must be something he doesn't want his son to know about," I added. "Why else would he send Robert away?"

Walsingham did not speak.

"Did you hear me? Whatever the duke plans, it can't be good for the princess. You just said success depends on initiative. Here's our chance. We should get Her Grace as far from here, and from the Dudleys, as soon as we can."

Had I not known better, I'd have thought he couldn't have cared less. Then I detected a surrept.i.tious gleam in his hooded eyes, a near indiscernible tightening of his mouth. What I had relayed was important. He didn't want me to know it.

"I'll convey your concerns," he said at length. "In the meanwhile, this note must be delivered, lest your master suspect our interference. After you do, return to Lord Robert. If your services are required again, you'll be advised."

I stared at him. "What about Her Grace? Aren't you going to warn her?"

"That is not something you need concern yourself with. You were told to follow orders."

To my disbelief, he turned to the door. I burst out, "If you don't warn her, I will."

He paused, looked at me. "Are you threatening me? If you are, let me remind you that squires who inform on their masters are not irreplaceable."

I met his eyes, held them for a long moment before I slipped the note back into my jerkin. Then I heard a soft thud at my feet.

"For your services," he said. "I suggest you be prudent where you spend it. Servants eager to flaunt ill-gotten wealth end up at the bottom of the river almost as often as disloyal squires." Without another word, he strode out. I didn't want to touch the purse he'd flung on the floor but I did anyway, pocketing it without examining its contents.

I edged back out the door. There was no sign of Walsingham. Turning into the pa.s.sage, I made for the stairs.

If I had had any doubts before, my mind was made up. I must warn the princess. Robert couldn't be trusted, and I was beginning to think that neither could anyone else. The purse in my hand might be small but it surely contained enough to buy my silence. Walsingham was Cecil's creature, and I had no idea what the Secretary's ultimate purpose might be. I suspected this matter was more complex than I'd been led to believe. I found it difficult to believe Cecil would harm the princess, but perhaps Walsingham himself played a false hand. I wouldn't put it past him. I also had no idea if she would willingly see me, but if I refused to budge she'd have to. I'd leave her no other choice.

I climbed the staircase, resolved.

A gallery stretched before me, its width leading to a pair of imposing doors, the lintel boasting carved cherubim. To the right, recessed embrasures overlooked a garden. The panes were cracked open to admit the afternoon breeze.

Standing halfway between the far doors and me were three men in court velvets.

I didn't know them. Nor did I have much time to look, for as I started to take a step back a voice came at me from behind: "By the cross, where do you think you're going this time?" I swiveled about as a familiar figure swept up to me to wag her finger in my face.

It was Elizabeth's attendant, the one I'd seen at Whitehall-Kate Stafford.

"Haven't I told you already the kitchens are not in this wing, you oaf?" she declared. Up close, her curious yellow-hued eyes were alive with an intelligence that belied her careless air. She exuded a heady scent, like crisp apples and gillyflowers. I didn't know whether to laugh or flee, until I noted the warning in her gaze when it met mine.

"My-my lady, forgive me?" I stammered. "I got lost, again."

"Lost?" She turned from me in a whirl of tawny skirts to the man who approached. "Horses may lose their way but only mules are likely to return time and time again to the same empty stall. Don't you agree, Master Stokes?"

"I do." Master Stokes was of medium height, slim, his face too sly to be called handsome, with elegant cheekbones accentuated by light brown hair slicked back from his brow. On his hands were displayed various gemstone rings; from his left ear dangled a glittering ruby pendant. It caught my attention. I had never seen a man wearing an earring before, though I would later learn it was more a fashion abroad than in England.

"Speaking of which, is this servant bothering you?" His voice was languid. "Shall I teach him not to trouble our pretty damsels, Mistress Stafford?"

Stokes's insolent stare dropped to her cleavage as he spoke. She flipped her hand, a trill of laughter reeling from her lips. "Bothering me? Hardly. He's just a servant new to court, who seems to think we keep the kitchens under Her Grace's duvet."

His corresponding laugh was equally high-pitched, almost effeminate. "If it will cure her headaches," he said. "As far as our mule is concerned..." His stare rose over her head to fix on me. "Perhaps I can set him on his way."

Mistress Stafford turned to him. Though she had her back to me, I could imagine the provocative look she treated him to. "Why waste your time on hired help? Let me see the boy back to the stairs, yes? I'll be a moment."

"If you promise," said Stokes. For no discernible reason, the finger he drew down her exposed throat filled me with dread.

He turned heel on his elegant boots and returned to where the other men stood grinning. Linking her arm in mine, Kate Stafford drew me back into the pa.s.sage.

The instant we were out of sight, she pulled me into a recessed window bay. All semblance of indulgent coquetry vanished. "What do you think you are doing?"

Seeing as she'd foregone the pretense, I saw no reason why I shouldn't follow her example. "I was going to see Her Grace. I bring important news she must hear at once."

She thrust out her hand. "Give me the missive, whoever you are."

"You know who I am." I paused. "I didn't say I had a missive."

She stepped close, her apple-blossom scent taunting me. "I a.s.sumed you did, under the circ.u.mstances. You are Lord Robert's squire."

"Ah, so you remember me." I too leaned close, so that our noses almost touched. "Not to mention that you must also be expecting a reply to the missive you just delivered."

She drew back. "I'm sure I don't understand."

"Oh? That wasn't you in my master's chambers earlier? There is another lady at court who wears boots under her gown?"

She went still. I smiled as I saw her inch the betraying foot back under her hem.

"I was behind the curtain," I explained. "Now, I must deliver my lord's reply." I started to turn away. She gripped my arm again, with astonishing strength for so small a person.

"Are you mad?" she hissed. "You mustn't be seen anywhere near her. You are his servant. Their meeting is supposed to be a secret." She glanced to the gallery entrance before returning her eyes to me. "Give me his reply. I'll see that she reads it, have no fear."

I pretended to consider. Then I removed the paper from my jerkin. As she made a move to take it, I shifted my hand behind my back. "I must say, this is rather convenient-you being here at the precise moment I arrive."

Her fingers closed on air. Her chin lifted. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, for one, that I saw you at Whitehall."

"Yes, and...?"

"And you didn't look too concerned for your mistress when she left the hall, though she was clearly in distress. In fact, I saw you speak to Master Walsingham. So, before I hand over my master's missive, I think I need some answers."

She tossed her head. "I've no time for this. Keep your master's reply. I know his answer." She started to step past me.

I blocked her way. "I'm afraid I must insist."

"I could scream," she said. "I am the princess's lady. Those gentlemen would be here in a few seconds, and that would not bode well for you."

"You could. But you won't. You don't want your admirer back there to know you're doing more than showing me to the kitchens." I drew myself to full height. "Now, who told you I was coming? Walsingham? Are you his doxy? If so, Her Grace won't enjoy discovering that her own lady-in-waiting, whom she entrusts with personal correspondence, is being paid to spy on her."

She burst out laughing, then clapped a hand to her mouth. "You really are too inexperienced for this sort of thing," she said in a low voice. "I should send you on your way and not tell you a thing. But in the interest of time, no, I am not Walsingham's doxy. I simply know him because of Her Grace's acquaintance with Master Cecil. Or rather, I know of of him. He's a professional informant-and if rumors are true, trained in Italy as an a.s.sa.s.sin." him. He's a professional informant-and if rumors are true, trained in Italy as an a.s.sa.s.sin."

"Hence his gallant manner."

Her smile was tart. "Exactly. He happened to be near me as Her Grace left the hall. I a.s.sure you, we exchanged only the required niceties."

"I suppose you weren't listening in on her conversations, either?" I said dryly.

"No, that I was was doing. She calls me her ears. I'm the reason she need not resort to outright gossip, which would be unbecoming in one of her rank. Before you ask, I also tried to hear your presentation to the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk. I reasoned Her Grace must have been curious as to why you were brought before her cousin." doing. She calls me her ears. I'm the reason she need not resort to outright gossip, which would be unbecoming in one of her rank. Before you ask, I also tried to hear your presentation to the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk. I reasoned Her Grace must have been curious as to why you were brought before her cousin."

She paused, searching my face. All of a sudden, her expression softened. Her look of compa.s.sion startled me with its sincerity. "I realize you have no reason to trust me, but I would never betray her. Her aunt Mary Boleyn, sister to her mother Queen Anne, was my mother's benefactor. Though we are not related, I couldn't love her more than if we shared blood."

"Relatives don't always love each other," I said, but I was no longer suspicious. "In fact, most often the opposite seems to be the case." My voice quavered. To my mortification, all of a sudden I couldn't control myself. "G.o.d help me, I don't know who or what to believe anymore."

She was silent. Then she said, "Trust Her Grace. That is why you are here, is it not? She told me you had offered to help her and she refused. Do you know why?"

I nodded. "Yes. She would not see me harmed for her sake." I hesitated another moment before I handed her the missive. She tucked it into her bodice.

Footsteps came toward us. She went still. There was no time, or place, to hide. Without warning, she flung herself at me, taking my astonished face in her hands to press her lips to mine. As she did, I managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the figure who stalked past us, followed by the three men, none of whom paused to make comment at what we were doing.

For a paralyzing moment I thought I must have imagined it.

Kate Stafford melded her body to me; she breathed into my mouth, "Don't move."

I didn't. Only after the echoes of booted feet faded away did she draw back. "He's left her. I must go." She paused. Her expression was somber. "You mustn't say a word to anyone. Not even Cecil. If you do, you could place her in more danger than she already is."

I hadn't imagined it. "That was the duke. He was with her. Why? What does he want?"

"I don't know. He arrived before you did, demanding admittance. She was abed, resting. She let him into her audience room and sent us all away."

I didn't like the sound of this. "Then I must speak with her."

"No. It's not safe. He could return; someone could see you. We can't risk it. We cannot be exposed. If anyone should know-"

"Know?" I exploded under my breath. "Know, what? What What in h.e.l.l is going on?" in h.e.l.l is going on?"

"You will discover all in time. Now I must go."