by Taylor Hobbs
The question of the old man’s identity in the other cell turned in her mind, always on the tip of her tongue—why had the duke imprisoned him, and what happened to him after that night?
This pondering kept Charlotte occupied until she realized just how noisy everything was when they reached the marketplace. She had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by other breathing, moving, talking bodies. During their time in the forest, Fawkes moved so quietly that unless Charlotte had her eyes on him, it was hard to remember he was even there. This new chaos assaulted all of her senses, and Charlotte fought the urge to turn and run back the way they came. The smell of unwashed people, sewage, and animals made her want to vomit. A headache began to creep its way forward, and she steadied herself against Ghost. Among the milieu of the crowd, no one spared them a second glance. Fawkes kept his head down and his eyes on the mud in front of him while Charlotte tried to do the same.
“We will journey to the inn and wait until nightfall,” he murmured to her.
Fawkes navigated through the streets, confirming his comfortable familiarity with the town. It was bigger than Charlotte’s village, and she soon lost all bearing. If she got separated from Fawkes now, she would have no idea how to find him again.
The inn he stopped in front of was a rough, two-story building. Though it was the middle of the day, raucous laughter poured out through the open windows. Used to a parade of nameless and faceless travelers passing through, the trading town wouldn’t notice the addition of Fawkes and Charlotte, especially at a less-than-reputable inn.
“Take Ghost to the stables,” Fawkes ordered her. “But fetch my bag before you return inside. I will secure us a room.”
She led Ghost around back without argument, hoping to prove how convenient a travel companion could be, especially an accommodating one. Walking into the barn, the musty scent of hay, manure, and animals triggered an onslaught of memories of Henry that hit Charlotte with such force she almost doubled over.
He was one of the duke’s best stable boys. Since the time he could walk, Henry had been fascinated with horses. While Charlotte drudged through her scullery maid duties at the castle, Henry found his calling working with the gentle creatures. They trusted him completely, and even the most ornery stallion turned docile as a foal under his touch. Charlotte remembered him whispering into their ears and stroking their long noses, and wondered if the duke’s animals missed him.
How Henry suddenly went from trusted stable boy to wanted criminal still eluded Charlotte. All she knew now was how badly she missed him, and how alone she felt in this strange village, in a barn that didn’t have her brother in it.
Shaking off her dark thoughts, she focused on making sure Ghost was settled in comfortably for the evening before grabbing their supplies and heading back to the inn. Fawkes paced just inside the front door, and grabbed the bag—which contained his precious cloak—from her as soon as she approached. He turned and headed upstairs without a word, leaving Charlotte to follow quickly behind.
Their room was the last one on the left, at the end of a long, dark hallway. Fawkes opened the door with a rusty key and a shove. “Do not wander about without me,” he cautioned. “There are many unsavory folk that you should not want to come across unaccompanied.”
“Will I be accompanying you tonight?” she asked.
“No. I have official business.”
Now that she knew she had no chance of going with him anyway, she couldn’t resist goading him a little further. “Official business as the Cloaked Shadow? Or just as Fawkes?”
His stormy glare answered her. “I need to sleep,” he said, flopping down on the only bed.
Charlotte sighed and looked over at the only other piece of furniture in the room—a rickety wooden chair that promised to fall apart any minute. She crossed her fingers and carefully sat down. Nighty night, she thought darkly. She glared at Fawkes, who sprawled out on the mattress.
In the end, sheer boredom overcame her discomfort and she actually fell asleep. When she awoke, moonlight was streaming in through the window and onto a distinctly man-shaped depression in the mattress. Fawkes was gone, and a quick search in his bag told her that the cloak was with him.
With a sinking heart, and already guessing the outcome, she tugged on the door. Locked. Pacing the room liked a caged animal, Charlotte tried to formulate her plan.
Above all, Charlotte needed to make herself indispensable to Fawkes so he wouldn’t just abandon her in Croantis, but so far she had failed. He hadn’t even trusted her enough to say where he was going or how long he’d be gone. Noises from the pub below drifted up through the floor, and Charlotte realized one way she could be useful.
Inside Fawkes’ bag lay a coil of rope, which Charlotte pulled out with trembling hands. This is such a bad idea, she told herself, as she wound one end around the bed frame. When Fawkes got back, he was either going to be furious with her, or simply leave her behind in the town while he rode off. She didn’t know which response she feared more.
Next, she crept to the open window and looked out at the ground below. It wasn’t as high up as she had originally thought, and definitely not as high up as she had been when rescuing Henry. This time, though, she was determined not to let fear get the best of her.
Throwing the other end of the rope out the window, Charlotte repeated the same rappelling technique she used down the castle wall. Though her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, she made it to the ground without freezing up once.
Ha, she thought, triumphant. Can’t endure his world, huh?
The rope still dangled from their room, just begging for a thief to climb up it. Charlotte found a rock and tied it to the end, tossing it back through their window on her fifth attempt, thankful there were no witnesses to her four other tries.
Wiping her hands on her skirt, she slunk around the inn and entered through the front door. The pub was rowdier now that night had fallen, and no one noticed as Charlotte bolted for an out-of-the-way corner to watch the festivities.
Copious amounts of ale flowed into mugs that never seemed to fully empty. Bar maids scurried through the crowd, trying to avoid the onslaught of pinches, gropes, and vulgar suggestions thrown their way as they satisfied customer orders. Every woman inside seemed to be working, whether it was on their feet with heavy trays or on the laps of drunkards. In other words, it was the perfect place for Charlotte to try and gather information.
From her secluded vantage point, Charlotte’s gaze darted to the only other person who looked as out of place there as she did, but for entirely different reasons. The man was obviously wealthy and had done a poor job of hiding it from the commoners. The working girls must have thought so, too, because he entertained four of them at his table. His loud bragging carried all the way over to Charlotte, who perked up her ears to listen.
“So I told the duke that he’d better respect me, seeing as I am Earl Hawthorne’s official li-ai-son,” he said, drawing out the word for the benefit of his audience and puffing out his chest.
“Then what happened?” One of the prostitutes leaned forward expectantly, as if she knew what the word ‘liaison’ meant. Yes, then what happened? Charlotte thought.
“I told him that if he really wanted the Cloaked Shadow alive and delivered to him, we needed more gold. Earl Hawthorne’s plan will work, guar-an-teed, but the duke doesn’t know that.” He winked at his enraptured companions. “Made it seem like we were taking too big of a risk for him, and we needed to be, ah, compensated more appropriately.”
“You really think you can catch him?” the blonde in his lap asked.
“He might have been able to pull one over on Duke Belaq, but the Cloaked Shadow’ll be getting more than he bargained for in Earl Hawthorne’s dungeons.”
Charlotte stopped breathing. Did Fawkes have a contract in Earl Hawthorne’s dungeons? Had he walked blindly into a trap tonight? She never would have guessed that Duke Belaq would work so willingly with another nobl
e. Rumor had it that the duke was only loyal to King Otan, and only interested in furthering his own agenda and family name. He would consider it beneath him to negotiate with an earl, especially because it meant admitting that the Cloaked Shadow had bested him, a secret the duke had seemed so intent on keeping. What has changed in such a short time?
She kicked herself for not going with Fawkes. But instead of giving into her feelings of despair, Charlotte maneuvered herself closer to the liaison. Come on, she begged. Give me something, anything, that will lead me to him.
In trying to eavesdrop, she stumbled over an extended boot and fell to the floor. A meaty hand grabbed her arm and hoisted her upright, and Charlotte found herself choking on heavy alcohol fumes filling her lungs.
“Care to join us?” the man asked her, slurring. “You don’t want to be around the likes of him.” He gestured over to Earl Hawthorne’s man and his gaggle of women. “We’ll take care of you. Honorable-like.”
“T-that’s very kind of you,” Charlotte stammered. “But I was just looking for something to eat before going back to my room.”
Maintaining his grip on her arm, Charlotte’s overly-friendly new acquaintance tried to steer her back to his table, where three other men sat. “No need to be afraid,” he said, “we won’t hurt you. Some female company would be nice for the evening.”
“No, really,” Charlotte insisted. “I’m waiting here for my friend. I mean, husband.”
“Your husband? He left you in a place like this, alone?”
“We can treat you better, girl,” one of the men at the table grunted at her.
She was stuck, unable to try to wrench her way out of the man’s grasp without causing a scene. Charlotte had no doubt she could put up a substantial fight and show the men that she was more trouble than she was worth, but then she would sacrifice the opportunity for any other information she could glean from the liaison. With warring emotions, Charlotte sat down at the crowded table. She would find a way to excuse herself as soon as she could, especially once the ale sent the men to sleep.
The man responsible for her current predicament turned to look back at the earl’s employee with a disdainful glare. “Poofter,” he muttered.
Charlotte saw her chance. “Do you really think what he said was true?”
“What was true?” he asked, oblivious. Apparently, she had been the only one listening.
“About being Earl Hawthorne’s liaison,” Charlotte clarified.
“Lemme tell you something, girlie. Earl Hawthorne is going to need better men than that ponce if he’s going to quash the rebels. He’s too coward to face them, and I don’t blame him if he’s got gits like that in his employ.” He took a big swig out of his mug, leaving the foam to drip off his mustache and into his beard. “Enough. We didn’t bring you over here to talk about that.” He pushed the mug at her. “Drink up.”
As she tried to come up with a polite way to refuse, a hand fell onto her shoulder. “And just what is it, pray tell, do you think you’re doing?”
Charlotte’s heart leaped, and she whipped around to stare up into familiar blue eyes—eyes that held her own with such barely-contained ferocity that she shrank back into her seat. Her initial excitement at witnessing Fawkes alive and well dissipated as she watched him try to rein in his temper.
Charlotte’s bearded new acquaintance spoke up. “This your husband, huh? Now, it’s not what it looks like. Your woman here just looked all on her lonesome, needin’ a spot of company. We were just happy to oblige her. No need to get worked up.”
Charlotte gave an imperceptible shake of her head, letting Fawkes know that it was not how it happened.
“I told you to stay upstairs,” he said, voice so low into her ear that only she could hear it. “You defied a direct order from me. We will talk about this in the room. Now go.”
Charlotte slid out from her seat and scurried up the stairs. Her cheeks and ears burned. She felt like a chastised child, unable to tell her side of the story and unfairly punished. Fawkes wasn’t far behind her, having smoothed over the situation downstairs. The less of an impression they made upon the local populace, the better. They couldn’t afford to draw any attention, or people might remember their presence.
Charlotte waited at the door of their room for Fawkes to unlock it. She caught a glimpse of familiar black fabric as he withdrew the key from a small satchel hanging by his side, before he opened the door and pushed her in unceremoniously.
Fawkes opened his mouth to speak, but Charlotte cut him off. “I have information for you,” she told him. “Everything else can wait.” It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting, so he remained silent and allowed her to continue. “Wherever you went tonight, whatever business you have with Earl Hawthorne, it’s a trap. Duke Belaq is behind it, and they are going to capture you whenever you try to enter the earl’s dungeon.”
“And how did you discover this?”
“One of the men downstairs. He was bragging about being ‘liaison’ between the duke and the earl. He said they were going to capture you. When you disappeared tonight, I thought…” Charlotte couldn’t finish her sentence.
Much of the anger disappeared off of Fawkes’ face, and he turned thoughtful. “Well, then, Earl Hawthorne has lowered himself to a greater level of treachery than that which I thought him capable. Duke Belaq, yes, but Hawthorne…to condemn an innocent…” Fawkes paced around their small room. Seeing Charlotte’s confused face, Fawkes seemed to remember he had an audience. He stopped pacing and sat on the bed. Charlotte stood up straighter and tried to look competent enough to be worthy of any more information he wanted to share.
Fawkes motioned for her to come closer. “What I’m about to tell you cannot be repeated, do you understand?”
Charlotte nodded.
“I met with the head of the Lindsor family tonight.” Fawkes sighed as he settled in to tell his tale. “They are a wealthy family who began as traders and are now rich enough to be nobles but lack the title. They are within Earl Hawthorne’s jurisdiction, but he has always looked the other way while the Lindsors conduct their business across the borders. As long as the earl receives his taxes, he does not interfere, no matter which kingdom codes are violated.”
“So why did you have to go to the Lindsor estate tonight?”
“They still owed me gold,” Fawkes said, “from a previous contract a few months ago. When I arrived to collect the rest of my payment, the household was in an uproar. Earl Hawthorne’s men had taken the Lindsor niece two days prior. Arrested her on charges of witchcraft.”
This must have really rattled him, because Charlotte had never heard Fawkes share so much of his internal dialogue at one time.
“Let me guess—the Lindsors want another contract. They want you to rescue her.”
“Yes.”
“And you believe she is innocent of the charges?”
“Completely. Earl Hawthorne knew exactly who to arrest if he wanted to draw me from the shadows. If what you tell me is true, then both Earl Hawthorne and Duke Belaq know where I am and are attempting to use the Lindsor family to entice me to take another contract.”
Charlotte shook her head to clear her confusion. “But why would Earl Hawthorne turn on the Lindsors?”
“Threats, blackmail, bribes—it is impossible to say what lengths the duke went through to get the earl to cooperate.”
Charlotte shuddered, imagining what terrors could have possibly been conveyed through the liaison that forced Hawthorne to cooperate without even meeting the duke face to face. “Was it really worth it?” she asked.
“Worth it?” Fawkes repeated.
“I mean, crossing Duke Belaq in the first place,” Charlotte clarified. “Now he will stop at nothing until he captures you. Was your contract in his dungeon really worth all of this? What happened to that old man you rescued, anyway?”
He pointedly ignored the first part of her question. “He was returned to his family. They have since fled the country.”
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br /> They sat in silence for a while, until Charlotte asked, “So now what do we do?”
“We?” Fawkes quirked an eyebrow. “We go to the border. Then I send you on your merry way and I find a new contract to take. One that will not result in my capture.”
“But I helped you!” Charlotte exploded. “You would have walked right into that trap if I hadn’t found out the truth.” She took a deep breath. “Teach me how to be like you. I can help. Now with Duke Belaq on your tail, any contract you take might be false. He is hell-bent on your capture, and he can reach anyone across the kingdom. You need a second-in-command. That way if things go really wrong, I can get you out.”
Fawkes scratched his stubble, and Charlotte could tell she was wearing him down. His chosen career was much more dangerous for him from this point onward, now that the nobles were willing to work together to catch him. “Gather your things. There are a few hours before dawn, and I hope to be far away from here by then,” he said. Charlotte tried not to be disappointed by his response. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either. Fawkes stood and began to pack.
A wave of sadness fell over Charlotte when she heard the purse on Fawkes’ waist clink with the sound of coins. “Are you just going to leave the Lindsor niece to hang?”
“Cannot save everyone,” Fawkes answered, his back to her. A lump formed in Charlotte’s throat when she thought about how the poor girl must be feeling. Terrified, she was sure. Her breath hitched at the unfairness of it all.
Fawkes turned around to face Charlotte, gesturing to the heavy purse. “This is the gold that was already owed to me,” he said, gentler than she would have expected. “I did not take any advance payment for her.”