Alaric Adair's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Alaric slept badly and woke with a fixed thought. Astrid Ainsworth would ride north within days, and once she crossed the gates he would never find her again. He could not court her now. But he could learn where she slept, and a man who knew where a woman lodged had time on his side. He dressed plainly and left the wine-stained shirt on the floor. In the yard he found Crawford Chamberlin nursing his head at the pump. Alaric told him the new plan in six words. Find her rooms before she leaves. Crawford spat water and said he owed him that much. They split the work. Crawford would drink with the grooms in the guest stables and count the northern horses. Alaric would walk the lodging streets near the palace and watch for the dark leather coat. He walked until noon and saw nothing. He walked again after the bells and caught a flash of pale braid at a baker's stall two streets from the palace wall. Astrid stood at the counter with a loaf under her arm, arguing the price in a flat northern voice. Alaric stepped into a doorway across the lane and waited. She paid, tucked the bread into a satchel, and turned up the lane without looking back. He followed at thirty paces. She stopped once at a fountain to drink. She stopped once more to tighten a strap on her boot. Then she climbed the steps of a narrow house with a green door and a brass ring, and let herself in with a key from her belt. Alaric marked the door, counted three houses from the corner, and walked past without slowing. At the end of the street he leaned against a wall and let out a breath. He had her address. He had four days at most. He still had no reason on earth to knock. But when he turned back toward the palace, Prince Damien Valoris was standing at the mouth of the lane with two guards behind him, watching the green door, and watching Alaric watch it.