by Laura R Cole
*
Wren rubbed tired eyes and gazed at his sorry reflection in the mirror. He had gone back to the clearing only to sit alone for the afternoon. And the next. And the next. Lise hadn’t come. His guilt was eating him alive. He’d not only completely left Phoenix in her time of need, but could potentially have compounded his friend’s problems by telling secrets that he never should have repeated.
He still couldn’t bring himself to go to the Princess. Her rejection still burned, and this new guilt on top of that meant there was no way he could face her. Instead, he sought out Rhys to see what he could do to help alleviate her predicament.
He found the boy in the library – an odd place for the rogue – and mumbled a hello.
“You’re looking worse than I feel,” Rhys commented.
Wren just glared at him. “I was hoping I could help you with your…” He glanced around worriedly, not wanting to be overheard. Although Wren knew well enough that the Queen had Rhys looking into Phoenix’s problems, it wasn’t common knowledge. Wren didn’t want to be responsible for another leaked secret. “That thing you’re looking into?” he finished finally.
“You mean clearing the Princess’s name?” Rhys asked him, raising his eyebrows as though Wren was being silly.
“Yeah.”
Rhys sighed loudly in relief. The librarian shushed him. “Please, by the gods, yes. If I look at another book I think I might have to kill myself. Here.” Rhys shoved the book at him and Wren looked down at it. As he scanned through the book Rhys was perusing, he wrinkled his brow in confusion.
“You think you might find clues to who’s behind it by looking through ancient family lines?”
“Ancient? Wha-?” Rhys began, spinning the book back in his direction and closing it to read the dates in the title more closely. Then he looked up and glared at the librarian, who was wearing a rather smug expression. “That little-” Rhys began, but mumbled the rest of the sentence too low for Wren to hear. He marched over and slammed the book down on the woman’s desk.
He stomped back and motioned Wren to follow him away from the librarian and into a corner. They sank down into the plush chairs there and Rhys leaned forwards.
“I was investigating the two men who were attacked. It turns out they were both part of the conspiracy against Phoenix. Havensford was being blackmailed with his daughter’s safety, but the other went along with it willingly. The daughter is already being looked into, so now I’m just trying to find any connections between the two.” His expression darkened. “Though for some strange reason I couldn’t seem to find their names in there at all.”
“It might help if you’d been looking in the correct century,” Wren commented.
“Yeeees,” Rhys agreed sourly.
“So there definitely is a conspiracy against Phoenix?”
“Absolutely,” Rhys nodded and filled Wren in on the details. When he was finished explaining he asked, “So, will you help?”
“Of course,” Wren answered, “but maybe you’d better get out of here. I’d hate for the librarian to think we’re friends or something.” He gave Rhys a wink, trying to cover his disquiet. He wasn’t sure what he would do if a connection he found linked the men to Lise in some way.
Rhys lifted an eyebrow and gave a short laugh. “Alright, if you insist,” he stood, slapping his hands against his thighs. “Thanks, Wren.”
The other boy patted him on the shoulder as he left, marching past the librarian and making a show of leaving. As soon as Rhys was gone, Wren headed for the right section of books to look up the two victims – and apparently conspirators. He spent the rest of the day performing the tedious task of reading through their entire family histories. Both men were from the Treymaynian side of the country. One was from the middle and Havensford was from the south. They did not appear to be socially involved. The good news was that he’d found nothing about a woman named Lise in either history, the bad news was that he still had no idea how they might be connected.
After a while, he began to have the strange feeling that he was being watched. He surreptitiously glanced around over the top of his book and thought he saw movement between one of the shelves. He looked back down at the page but didn’t read it. Instead, he focused his peripheral vision on the spot. Something dark appeared around the shelf. He looked quickly at it, hoping to catch whoever it was before they ducked back behind the shelf.
Madeline let out a gasp. “Oh, hey, Wren. Didn’t notice you there.”
Wren smiled. “Afternoon, Madeline.”
She sidled up to him and peered over the top of the book he held in front of him. “What are you reading?”
He tilted it down so that she could see. “Family histories. Just a little research, you know.” He tried to act casually.
“You’re looking into those two men that were attacked, aren’t you?” she whispered. Apparently he hadn’t been as nonchalant as he’d thought.
He eyed her suspiciously. She had always been too curious for her own good. He softened; he’d had the same thing said about him. She was a friend to both him and the Princess. He had no doubt she only wanted to help.
“Yes,” he answered finally. “At the moment, I’m trying to find some connection between them.”
Madeline thought for a moment, taking a seat beside him. “They both like hunting,” she offered.
“Along with most of the male population and a fair number of the females too,” Wren commented sarcastically. Madeline’s hurt look made him immediately regret it. “But it is something. Perhaps they met at a hunt?”
The girl seemed to accept the implied apology. “I saw them both at the royal aviary. I’m not sure if they were together, but they were there at the same time. I’m pretty sure Regina’s father was showing them both one of his prized flocks. Maybe they both have an interest in birds?” she suggested. “What do their families do?”
He glanced down at his notes. “It appears that the Havenfords are lords of some farmlands. The Donnovans own some blacksmith shops that are fairly successful. Nothing that would suggest that they crossed paths.”
“Well, they both obviously attend court at the palace. Maybe they just know each other here. How long were they staying?”
“Havensford was here just for Phoenix’s party and a few other events it appears. Donnovan for a bit longer. He was supposed to be conducting business after the festivities according to his wife. They were trying to set up a shop in the capital.”
“Hmm.”
Madeline put her forefinger and thumb on her chin. They sat in silence, contemplating the possibilities for a few minutes. Wren glanced out the window and sighed.
“I’m going to go clear my head for a while,” he told her. “Thanks for trying to help.”
He gave Madeline a small smile, which she returned and curtsied prettily to him as he left.
After stopping in his rooms briefly, Wren went back out to the stables. The usual stable-boy greeted him, an odd look on his face. When he brought the horse out for him, the boy spoke hesitantly.
“Is everything alright, sir? Your rides don’t seem to be as enjoyable for you anymore. Is the saddle comfortable? The horse behaving?”
Wren laughed humorlessly. “There’s nothing wrong with the horse or saddle; thank you. My rides have simply become less fruitful of late. But I thank you for the concern.” He smiled kindly.
“Oh, okay. My dad gets discouraged sometimes, too, when he doesn’t get anything hunting. One time we had to eat squirrel for a week before he got a deer.” He patted the horse’s rump after Wren had climbed on. “Don’t worry; you’ll get something.”
Wren thanked the boy, not bothering to correct his mistaken assumption of the purpose of his treks. The ride to the forest seemed to take much longer nowadays, though he knew it was exactly the same. When he finally arrived, he tied his horse to the usual tree and followed h
is own tracks through the forest to the edge of the stream.
He sat there morosely for a while before deciding to take a look around. Perhaps I can find where she disappeared off to. There has to be something left behind. He thought back to their attempt to follow the unicorn tracks that had gone awry. They had managed to follow the tracks, despite them not belonging to the unicorn.
Deep down he knew that it was futile attempt to follow a trail at all, much less one that was now so old. Rationally, there was very little chance that he would actually find something to lend some clue as to where she had gone. That didn’t stop him from wanting to do something other than sit around and hope that someday she might come back. Foolish or not, he was determined enough – and desperate enough – to follow any sign he could possibly find.
That decided, he picked the direction that he’d seen her walk off in and scoured the ground for any sign of someone’s passage. He remembered enough of his lessons on hunting to know to look for impressions in the ground, broken vegetation, or debris left behind. He’d just never had much need to put it into practice before. Regardless, he soon found something he convinced himself was her trail, and he set out on it.
Every now and again he’d pause and search the ground and foliage, and each time he’d find something that he’d decide was another clue. Soon, he found himself completely lost. Looking up at the sky peeking through the canopy of branches above, Wren suddenly realized that it was much later than he thought. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to track Lise that he hadn’t noticed the setting of the sun. Its warm light was now almost completely disappeared from the treetops. A mere hour or so would pass before it disappeared completely, and he’d be left out in the middle of the evening wilderness alone.
He froze for a moment, feeling more afraid of the woods than he ever had before. He patted his tunic. What did he have to defend himself with? At that moment, gods-knew-how-far from the horse, he realized how completely unprepared he was. He had no weapons, no way of starting a fire, and nothing to get him back should he need to. His hand clamped down on the healing amulet his mother always made him wear. It wouldn’t protect him from an animal attack, but its presence was comforting nonetheless.
He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned around to go back in the direction he came. Luck was with him, and the ground was soft, making his footprints stand out in the mud. Unfortunately, because of the fading light, he lost the trail a short while later. Panic set in once again. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, and his breath came in short gasps.
Then he saw it. In the distance, there was a faint flickering of light. Torches! There must be people. Wren took off at a run, breaking through branches and scratching himself against thorns but not caring.
“Hello!” he shouted. “Hello!”
The light disappeared. He reached the spot he’d have sworn he saw it from but could find no trace of anything. He looked around, discouraged. The person must have heard me! Why didn’t they answer? He had a dark thought. Maybe it was a bandit. He glanced around and ducked behind a bush. He waited in the shadows for a few long minutes, but nothing stirred.
And then, off in the distance, he saw the light again. This time, Wren didn’t shout, but he made his way stealthily – or at least as stealthily as he could manage – towards it. Once again, despite his best attempt to move silently, it disappeared as soon as he drew near.
Disgruntled, he hunkered down to wait, peering into the ever-darkening forest. Again, the light appeared up ahead, and again, Wren followed it. Despite the chance that it could be bandits or worse, he still felt better knowing he was near other humans. Humans scared him less than whatever other creatures were in the woods.
Just then something scurried past in front of him and he let out a shrill scream. The light vanished just as he caught a glimpse of the rabbit tearing away. Wren dove undercover again. Right. Better to be with bandits than the killer rabbits, he thought sourly. The light did not reappear in the same amount of time, and the dark continued to close in. Wren bit his lip, and pointed himself in the direction he’d last seen it. Hopefully, they’d still be moving the same way.
He stumbled through the brush, snagging his pants on a branch of a fallen log. He scared himself half to death, convinced he had been grabbed by undead monsters lurking in the darkness. He finally pulled free, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear almost nothing else, and stumbled into a clearing.
As his heart gradually slowed, he heard a noise. Freezing, he dropped to the ground and listened. It was hard to describe. He thought it was perhaps the sound of chewing? He imagined a giant beast, gnawing away on the bones of its last meal. Something moved. A very large something. Its outline was vague, a blob on the other side of the clearing. It had to be a bear, he decided. It was too big for anything else.
He slowly started backing out of the clearing without the monster seeing him, but as he stepped backwards, his foot snapped a branch. Very loudly. The monster’s head shot up. As it did so, the moon peeked out from behind a cloud and lit up the clearing. Wren rushed forward happily. The monster was none other than his horse, munching away happily on the grass. He wrapped his arms around the beast’s head and kissed it on the snout. The horse snorted at him, spraying him with spit, but he didn’t care.
Wasting no time, he climbed onto the horse and led it back out of the terrifying trees. When the lights of the city came into view, he finally calmed enough for his brain to slowly creak back into motion. Belatedly, he realized that whoever he had been following may have seen his horse, and had it been a bandit, may have raided his saddlebags. Luckily, he brought little with him into the woods, but there were a few items he would miss if stolen.
Carefully balancing so as not to fall and lose his way back to civilization, he reached into the saddlebags to check the contents. He was surprised to find them intact. Apparently, whoever it was he’d been following had fortuitously missed seeing his horse – or was simply the honorable sort – while unknowingly leading him to safety.
That was some good news. The bad news was that Lise hadn’t shown up again, and he’d found no real sign of her. But he was alive. That definitely counted for something.