The thought of friendship reminded her of how much she wanted—needed—to talk with Karen. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation at seeing her friend, and she was suddenly aware of how Karen had become her steadfast companion throughout all the madness they had encountered together. She felt closer to that girl than she did most of the friends she had known all her life. Karen had turned into this ever-constant mark that made her feel safe and rooted to reality. When they were together, Sarah was reminded of home.
Damien glanced her way at that moment and caught her eye. She hadn’t realized she was still watching him, and her cheeks reddened at the amused look in his eyes when he saw her staring. Or maybe that was pleasure that set those fascinating gold flecks dancing. “What is on your mind?”
Reality abruptly came crashing down on her head. Sarah realized that she had spent three days in the castle and was coming back to Karen empty-handed. She hadn’t tried very hard to find anything recently, but now she wished she had put in a little more effort. She was the mole in the castle, after all.
“Something troubles you,” Damien prodded softly when she failed to answer.
Sarah slanted him a look, watching as he observed the emotions on her face. “How do you know?”
He shrugged. “Call it intuition from a fellow troubled soul.” His expression was open, gentle. “Anything I may assist you with?”
She hesitated. Had Damien been at the castle when the king died? She wasn’t sure, but he’d been there for a few months and might know something more than what she’d discovered, which was a grand total of nada. Their relationship was still in the infant stage, but she felt that she could be candid with him.
Folding her hands in her lap, Sarah hedged, “It’s just that—I mean, I know I’m new at the castle and all, but I just thought the king’s death seemed a bit strange.” She lowered her voice and leaned in, as though the sleeping trees might share their secret. “Don’t you?”
Damien’s brows knit together, and he shot her a speculative look before turning back to the road. “Not particularly, no.”
“But you were here when it happened?” she prodded, hoping her eagerness wasn’t too apparent.
“I was,” he said slowly, obviously wondering where she was head with this.
Where am I headed? Sarah chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. She asked the first thing that came to mind to get the conversation moving. “Doesn’t it seem a little strange that a healthy man would get ill so fast? And he held on for so long. . . .” Her voice drifted off, and she hoped he would fill in the blank.
“Are you implying foul play?”
Sarah knew it was reckless to come right out and say it, especially to stranger, but her instincts were telling her that she could trust Damien. Nodding, she said, “I have my suspicions that someone may have plotted against him.” It felt odd to say it aloud, but it was also a relief to finally have someone else to share it with.
“That’s absurd.” Damien shook his head, black hair tumbling in front of his eyes. But she had clearly hit a nerve of interest.
“Think back, Damien,” she urged softly. “Did the king seem off somehow, was anyone acting strange around the castle?”
He angled his head toward her, a look of apology in his espresso eyes. “I arrived after the king became ill, so I would not know the difference.”
“But you have to be a little suspicious. It’s obvious that foul play was involved.” Sarah wasn’t thinking logically and would have backed down any other time, but there was something about the way Damien’s back stiffened that set her mind into detective mode. “Think about who would have the most to gain from his death.”
Damien’s eyes widened in alarm, and he stammered, “You cannot possibly suspect the prince would have anything to do with this.”
“What? No.” She honestly hadn’t even considered him on the list of potential murderers.
His shoulders stooped a little in relief, though he was clearly uneasy. “Then who do you suspect?” His voice was guarded, a tone she’d never heard the blunt Spaniard use.
She squirmed in her seat, wondering if she should give up her last piece of information. What would Karen do? Sarah suspected her friend would do whatever it took to avenge the king’s death and find his killer. If Damien knew something, she had to find out what it was.
“Cadius seems a likely candidate,” she said nonchalantly. “He takes care of the king, the prince, and then takes the throne for himself. Just a thought.”
Damien’s laugh came out sounding choked. “You can’t possible believe that. And the prince is still alive.”
Sarah dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “A minor detail I’m sure he’ll take care of easy enough.”
“You cannot possibly believe something so . . . irrational.” It was obvious he was grasping at straws, and that only sparked Sarah’s curiosity further.
“Do you know something?”
He looked away. “Have you discussed this with anyone else?” His attempt to sound casual was mediocre, at best.
She watched him, her suspicion rising. “Not yet. But I’m going to figure this out. The king’s killer deserves to be brought to justice.”
Damien’s face changed then, and his eyes snapped to hers. He looked all at once concerned and frightened. Pulling the horses to a stop in the middle of the path, he took hold of her hand, face earnest. “I must ask you to leave this alone. Can you do that for me?”
“So you think something is amiss, too?” A surge of excitement coursed through her, and she didn’t even think to pull her hand from his.
Damien shook his head and straightened, dropping his hold as he turned his gaze away. His body looked stiff. “Of course not.”
“Then why can’t I pursue this?”
“Are you always this obstinate?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.
Shoulders rising and falling in a sigh of resignation, he smiled grimly at her. “Then I must ask you to take care who you bring your assumptions to. This is a serious accusation, whether founded on truth or falsehoods, and it will not be dealt with lightly. You may find yourself in a greater mess than you intended if you discuss this with the wrong people.”
“Even if it’s true?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” he conceded, but he didn’t look convinced of there being truth to her theory. “But where is your proof? You must understand the gravity of what you’re implying. You only have suspicions as a foundation for this accusation, and that is not reason enough to destroy a man’s life. Or yours.” Their eyes met, and his were full of concern. For her welfare, she realized.
“Why are you so worried about me?”
Damien rubbed the back of his neck and then steered the horses down a narrow lane, the thick blanket of snow stretching out before them left undisturbed on the deserted path.
“It is dangerous to make such a serious charge against someone with so much power”—he shot her a conciliatory look—“even if it does have merit. But a rumor such as this would spark suspicion in the people, and a man who wishes to keep his power will do anything to preserve it.” Golden-brown eyes locked on hers, entreating. “If you put your hand in the fire, you will get burned. Can’t you understand that?”
A chill that had nothing to do with the frigid air snaked down Sarah’s spine. Had she really expected to simply waltz around town with immunity, making accusations against the prince’s advisor that would get him imprisoned? And Cadius and the men who worked for him were just supposed to roll over, while she walked away unscathed?
Sarah felt a spark of shame when she realized that that was precisely what she had hoped for. Being discovered and silenced had been Karen’s greatest fear, and Sarah had conveniently forgotten about the danger as she played the part of the king’s avenger. However much she wanted to pretend that this was all a fantasy, it was also very real. And the fear of danger she saw reflected in Damien’s face reminded her of this.
�
�You must stop this.”
“I can’t,” she said regretfully, knowing he was only speaking out of concern. But she would not abandon her friend to a solo chase after a potential killer. And Sarah had to admit that she had her own selfish reasons for staying: This quest had become as important to her as it was to Karen and the Kingdom of Serimone, and she had come too far to turn back. “I have to see this through, Damien. I hope you can understand that.”
A sigh escaped his tight lips, and his voice wavered when she spoke. “Then please, for my sake, take care and stay in the shadows.”
~Chapter 21~
They did not speak for the rest of the ride, but Sarah could feel his gaze on her every few minutes. She asked Damien to stop when they reached the end of the road where the trees thinned and opened up to the Joneses’ land.
Damien halted the horses at the tree line and told her that he would be gone no more than two hours. He looked reluctant to leave, even for such a short time, and Sarah got the feeling that he was still worried about her safety.
Hopping down from the wagon, she threw him a grin to ease his apprehension over her absence. “Don’t worry. I doubt there are any spies in the forest.” His smile was forced and weak at best, causing her to wonder if there were spies lurking in the trees.
Sarah jogged out into the field toward the house, feeling his watchful gaze on her to make sure she arrived safely. The moment she heard the wagon rolling back along the trail, she busted into a run, veering toward the barn in a lurching crouch. If she only had a few hours, she didn’t want anyone delaying her and Karen’s private conversation.
She ducked behind the corner of the barn just beyond sight of the house. Breathing heavily from her covert dash from the trees, she leaned against the wood siding and ran a hand down the front of her dress. That was when she remembered the black detailing on the gown, which made her stick out against the layers of white snow like a skunk in a flower shop.
Super, she thought. Now she really hoped no one had spotted the well-dressed blur jumping invisible hurtles in the snow.
Squinting at the far edge of the Joneses’ land where the whitewashed hills crested and disappeared on the other side into the forest, she noticed the framework for a small cabin tucked into the side of one of the hills. It was still in the early stages and would not be completed for a while, Sarah suspected, but the Jones family would have some new neighbors before too long.
She drew her attention away from the potential home and peered around the corner of the barn to scout out the front of the house, her rapid breaths surrounding her lips with clouds of moisture. All looked silent, and no one appeared to have spotted her, which was a great relief. Not that she had a shining reputation to uphold, but she did not enjoy looking like a complete idiot . . . if there wasn’t a good reason for it.
Mustering whatever dignity she could, Sarah slid her way to the barn door and pressed an ear to the wood, listening for any sound within. Nothing.
Satisfied, she pulled the door open by the steel rung, grunting as it resisted her. Her boot lost traction on the snow, and she nearly landed on her backside before she used the rung to pull herself upright. But her movements were jerky and she overcompensated, which ended with her jerking her shoulder into the side of the building with a resounding smack.
So much for covert.
Blowing a stray auburn curl off her forehead, she leaned back, pulling on the heavy wood with her full weight until it budged enough for her to slip inside. Sarah struggled to close it and then straightened her skirt, wondering how Karen, with her slight frame, managed to open the massive door everyday and look graceful doing it.
Meandering down the row of stalls that contained a menagerie of animals, she tried to pick up any sound other than the nickering of the horses or the shuffling of the goats nearby. She thought she caught a human voice echoing off the barn walls, but it was so faint she couldn’t be sure.
She slowed her steps, listening intently until she heard the sound again. Now she was positive that was Karen’s voice. But was someone with her? Curious, Sarah moved through the rows of pens, following the sound of her friend’s voice.
“. . . not as difficult as you think,” Karen was saying.
Passing the only open enclosure in the barn, Sarah jerked to a stop in the middle of the isle, too surprised at what she was seeing to move or turn away.
Karen sat cross-legged on the layer of fresh hay that covered the floor inside the stall, her fingers working to entwine a wreath of straw together by the soft lantern light. Seth sat beside her—close beside her—one arm resting behind Karen’s back so he could lean over her shoulder to better see what she was doing. But he wasn’t watching her hands. Instead, his eyes were fixed on her face, taking in her features with rapt attention, and it was clear every word she said was lost on him.
Karen glanced over at him, fingers still moving over the straw. “Did that last part make sense?”
Seth nodded encouragingly, and she went back to work, though his eyes never strayed from her profile, roving over the lines of her face as if seeing her for the first time. Sarah had never seen him so enraptured. He was gazing at her in awe, like she was food to a starving man or sight to a blind one. Sarah felt a smile growing on her own face.
Karen’s concentration had caused a crease to form on her forehead, and she appeared totally oblivious to his attention as she focused on the wreath she was making. Whether she was aware of it or not, the entire scene was very intimate and the start of something special, judging by the captivated fascination Sarah saw written over every inch of Seth’s features.
Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Sarah backed up slowly before she interrupted their . . . whatever she had walked in on. She kept her eyes trained on them as she retreated out of the mellow circle of light. Seth pressed his shoulder against Karen’s, and she leaned innocently into him, holding the wreath a little higher for her tutorial.
In a spastic moment, Sarah’s own feet became entangled for no reason at all, causing her to fall backward into the door of the stall behind her. She ricocheted noisily off the wood and landed in a mangled heap on the floor.
All conversation ceased in the barn. With a pained grunt, Sarah looked up through her tangled mass of hair and the bits of straw that clung to it, catching the shocked expressions on their faces. Trying to smooth things over as neatly as possible, she brushed her hair out of the way and propped herself up on her elbows, trying to look casual to cover her embarrassment. “Hey, guys.”
Seth already looked on the verge of laughter, but Karen still appeared shocked by her sudden appearance. Her hands were poised mid-air, though she had dropped her craft on the floor in her surprise. “Sarah, what are you doing here?”
Resting her chin on her entwined knuckles, Sarah kicked her legs back and forth like a child. She was going for nonchalance, but by Seth’s amused expression over her compromising position, she wasn’t pulling it off. “Oh, you know. I was in the neighborhood—thought I’d stop by.”
Karen gawked at her, and the mirth Seth had been containing escaped in a hysterical burst of laughter. He didn’t appear upset that she had interrupted their romantic interlude as he clutched his stomach, and Sarah felt her own lips slanting upward in amusement.
“Glad to lighten the mood,” she said, stumbling awkwardly to her feet and rolling her sore shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Seth asked, barely containing a chuckle as he helped Karen stand. She started to grin as the shock wore off.
“Nothing’s broken, so that’s a plus.” Sarah stopped flexing her arm to look more convincing. “I thought my dismount was pretty graceful, though.”
Shaking her head, Karen snatched the straw wreath off the ground and released a soft laugh. “Only you could make such a spectacular entrance look so natural and poised,” she joked.
Sarah shrugged. “Don’t hate me because I’m gifted in the art of klutzing.” She hiked her thumbs into an invisible belt i
n a self-satisfied way. “I don’t like to gloat, but I’m kind of a black belt at it.”
Karen really laughed then, and Sarah felt that easy camaraderie she had experienced from the start. It was nice to be reunited, and although it had only been a few brief days, Sarah felt that there was so much to tell her.
Seth was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying their banter as his gaze flickered between the two of them, though it strayed to Karen’s face more often than not.
“More of a purple belt at gracefulness, though,” Karen teased. Sarah shrugged unrepentantly; it was safer for the world if she stuck with awkward and clumsy and left the poise to Karen. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Can you stay for a while?”
“Actually, I only have a little bit and was hoping we could talk, if you’re not busy.” Sarah’s gaze traveled meaningfully between them, and Karen’s face heated in a tell-tell way.
“I was just showing him how to braid,” she hurried to clarify.
Sarah directed her attention to the broad-shouldered man and did her best to hide her knowing grin. “I think that crown will look very masculine on you. Nice choice.”
Seth grinned unashamedly. “I thought it might be a useful skill in the spring, when the flowers come up and I can make you beautiful angels the halos you deserve.”
Karen rolled her emerald eyes heavenward. “Be still my heart,” she said dryly.
The always-smiling farm boy bowed gallantly. “And now I shall take my cue and leave you to converse. You know, Mother misses having her adopted daughter around,” he said to Sarah. “Anything I can do to convince you to stay?”
Sarah shook her head regretfully, wanting more time with the family who had taken her in without a second thought. “I wish I could, but I have to get back pretty soon. Thanks for the offer, though. I miss your mom’s home cooking.”
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