She had settled on a black mourning dress with minimal ruffles. She had left off the underskirts, which interfered with the drape a touch, but meant she was able to move more freely, and as they prepared to descend the stairs, she pulled her black veil down over her face.

“What are you doing?” Olivia whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“I glow in the dark,” Isobelle pointed out, carefully twitching the netting into place. “Behind this, I am one with the shadows.”

Olivia surrendered and lifted the basket of tarts. “I will feed these to the guards,” she whispered. “Once I give the signal, Gwen, you take a look at the lock and search for a key, and Isobelle, you speak to the women. You have two minutes, and then we’re leaving.”

The pair of them followed the maid as she continued down the stairs, halting at her hand signal and letting her walk on alone.

“Who goes?” called a rough male voice.

“Just me again, boys. Anyone for dessert?” Olivia’s singsongy tones paused, and then there was a giggle. “Not that kind of dessert, Alaric! Cheeky. Look, the cook’s just pulled these out of the oven. Gather round.”

She’d been down here every night for a week, and, like the ravens one of the stableboys trained to join him for breakfast, the guards had learned to arrive promptly for their treat.

There was a short silence as they ate, and Isobelle risked a peek around the corner, spotting Olivia chatting in a low voice with a group of four men in castle guard uniforms. As she watched, one of them stepped back, leaning against the wall with a bewildered expression. Then he looked down in surprise as his knees gave way, and he slithered down until he was seated.

“What—” one of them began, and then went silent.

Gwen grabbed Isobelle by the waist, pulling her back out of sight. The touch of her hands created a flutter of sparks that ran all the way down to Isobelle’s toes, via several interesting stops along the way. Isobelle caught her breath, but forced herself to keep her mind on their mission, and not on how viscerally Gwen’s touch had affected her.

Then Olivia appeared, her basket now almost empty. “They’re out,” she whispered. “They won’t remember anything about tonight, much less the tarts. But none of them have the keys on them. Go on, I’ll keep watch here.”