Cloaked

by Taylor Hobbs

  For the past few days, Charlotte had operated under the assumption that Fawkes would return to her in one piece, but she suddenly realized that he might not return at all if something happened. If, due to her brashness, her infallible mentor lost focus. At the thought of his demise, the hurt and disappointment she held onto after his blunt departure dissipated. Charlotte prayed he would be all right as tears welled in her eyes. I can’t lose another person I love.

  Her eyes widened. Do I love Fawkes? She respected him as a teacher, yes, and felt an attraction, but love… Outside of family, that was a foreign concept to her. She cared for him deeply, she couldn’t deny that, but it was complicated beyond words. Charlotte shook her head, trying to rid herself of confusing thoughts.

  It was at that moment she felt the cool sharpness of a knife at her throat.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” a voice growled in her ear.

  Chapter Ten

  Charlotte had been in his dungeons, at his table, and under his gaze, but none of those experiences prepared her for the paralyzing terror she felt when Duke Belaq’s arms surrounded her. Though she held a sensible fear of his knife pressed against her jugular, it was an unnecessary tool when accompanied by his presence. She choked back her panic, wishing she was anywhere else, even on the top of the mountain pass again. Given the choice, Charlotte would face her phobia a hundred times if it meant that Belaq didn’t have his hands on her skin.

  He chuckled, as though he was flattered by her physical disgust. “Who would have thought that the Cloaked Shadow’s little pet would fall right into my lap? I wanted him, but I’ll settle for you.” His dangerous tone made her legs give out.

  Still holding her captive, the duke pushed her toward a less-crowded side street. Stay calm, breathe, she reminded herself, as she tried to formulate an escape. Her surrounding environment was less than ideal, but there were plenty of objects that she could turn into weapons with the right intention.

  Duke Belaq walked her up against a wall and whirled her around to face him. He licked his lips, running his knife from Charlotte’s throat to her cheek, stroking with gentle caresses. “I didn’t think you would have survived this long, but,” he leaned in to tell her his secret, “I hoped you would.”

  “Why, so I can tell you to burn in hell?” Charlotte waited for the cut to come, to feel the blood run down her face, but the knife continued its languid path.

  Belaq’s forehead rested against Charlotte’s, like a lover about to steal a kiss. “Because we never got to have that little chat about your brother. My guards were sent to fetch you. Imagine my delighted surprise when they told me that the girl I wanted to question had run off with the most wanted man in the kingdom? We almost had you in Hawthorne’s village, but you both slipped away. Still, I wanted to thank you. For the chase. I haven’t had this much fun in years.”

  The knife nicked a shallow cut near her temple, and Charlotte cried out. Like a serpent, Belaq’s tongue darted out to lick the blood with a savory caress. She pulled back in revulsion while he toyed with her, mistaking her trembles of rage for those of fear.

  The mention of Duke Belaq’s guards, and the day they killed her mother, transformed Charlotte’s terror. The emotions those memories evoked were enough to send a burst of adrenaline to her paralyzed muscles. If Belaq thought that she was just a scared little girl, he was sadly mistaken.

  Belaq ran his bloody tongue over his lips with a gleam of desire in his gaze, his hand still holding the knife by the side of her head. Before Charlotte could second-guess herself, her hand shot up to grab his arm and slam his wrist down onto her shoulder. The impact sent shock waves through her bones and made her wonder if her collar bone had broken in two, but the jolt was enough to make Belaq lose his grip on the blade.

  The knife clattered to the ground behind her, but Charlotte didn’t have time to pick it up. She feigned right and bolted left, making use of her opening. She would not have the chance to surprise Belaq again, so she focused on putting as much distance between them as possible.

  Light on her feet, Charlotte bounded over strewn debris before launching herself over a wagon that blocked her entrance to the main street. She heard the duke cursing, but she didn’t risk a glance over her shoulder. Looking behind her would cost precious seconds she did not have. She was no match for him as a fighter, especially without a weapon, but Charlotte remembered her sparring lessons with Fawkes and concentrated on running away. Sometimes it was better to just avoid getting hit in the first place.

  However, the chase was nothing new to Belaq. He panted behind her, never more than a few feet away as they raced up the hill. Her defensive attack hadn’t injured him; if anything, it seemed to increase his desire for her. The duke let out a gleeful bellow, reminding Charlotte of hound dogs on the scent during a hunt.

  Charlotte understood why the duke was out doing his own dirty work. Here, he was in his element—chasing, toying, and inflicting pain. Nobleman or not, Belaq would have never let his guards have all the fun. The duke that Charlotte faced now was a different duke from the one she knew at the castle. That version of Duke Belaq was restrained, like a dog in a muzzle. Away from his responsibilities and societal constraints, he let the true version of himself escape. His demon was out to play, and it would not be satisfied until Charlotte was at his mercy.

  Charlotte’s heart pounded, her breath coming in painful gasps as her strides started to falter. Still, she could feel the duke gaining on her, so she took a chance and veered sharply for the pub. If it came to an actual fight, she needed to do it on familiar territory, taking every advantage she could get. She was also depending on the fact that blood lust made Belaq sloppy. His animalistic counterpart was powerful, but it also lacked the precision and cunning that made Duke Belaq so frightening back at the castle.

  The heat from his body was so close she could feel him as he honed in on her. As she braced herself for his tackle, suddenly he was gone. Charlotte sprinted for a few more lengths before realizing that no one was in pursuit anymore. Hardly daring to believe it, and half-expecting a trap, she turned around.

  Three of the rebels were on top of Belaq. A crowd started to gather, drawn to the violent spectacle of a thrashing, cursing man held down with his face in the dirt. While her burning lungs tried to take in enough air, Charlotte also stared at the snarling duke, not quite willing to believe she had escaped unscathed. Well, almost unscathed, she thought, as a trickle of blood streamed down her face.

  Realizing how close she had come to disaster, her over-exerted legs gave out and she fell to the ground. The man of her nightmares, the cause of her family’s pain, was there in front of her. He had laid his hands on her. Threatened her. And she had bested him.

  It wasn’t just me, she admitted grudgingly. Charlotte had to admit that the rebels’ timing had been most opportune. She had never been so happy to see people she so disliked. A shadow fell over her seated form, and she looked up.

  “Had yourself quite the scare,” Robin said. “We’ve been looking for Belaq within the city for three days. Who knew it took a woman to bring out the best in him?”

  Charlotte scowled. “You followed me.” It wasn’t a question.

  “It wasn’t hard to predict that his history with Henry would extend to you as well. We needed bait to catch the fish.” He shrugged.

  “He almost killed me!” Charlotte exploded. “Did you happen to see that part?”

  Robin ignored her, stepping over her legs as he strode over to Belaq. Charlotte scrambled upright, her fury propelling her forward.

  “I don’t want any more attention on this—” Robin whispered to his thugs.

  The duke laughed as they held him down, his body shaking with mirth. “Somebody quiet him,” Robin said, which only made the duke giggle like a madman.

  Oh, I got this, Charlotte thought, pulling her foot back with practiced grace. She let it fly, kicking Belaq in the head and knocking him out cold. “You’re welcome,” she spat at them all.


  ****

  As much as Robin seemed to want the news of Belaq’s capture kept quiet, the news spread like wildfire throughout the Algonian neighborhood. Charlotte wondered how long it would take for the story to get back to Belaq’s army, and when they would storm into the city to free him. The rebels would realize far too late that they couldn’t tame a wild beast, and it wouldn’t take long before all hell broke loose.

  For the time being, the duke was tied up in the pub cellar while Robin decided on a course of action. The opportunity to kill the right-hand man of the king was within his power, but first the rebels needed information.

  Charlotte was surprised to be invited into the inner circle while the two leaders squared off. Henry and only a select few of Robin’s most trusted men joined them.

  “How fortunate I am,” Belaq mused as he faced his captors, “that I should be led straight to the very traitors the king has been searching for. Minus the most important one, however. Still, the Cloaked Shadow led me this far. I should thank him.”

  Robin’s fist came out of nowhere and hit Belaq across the jaw, sending blood and spittle flying onto the walls. The duke just grinned at him with bloody teeth, looking for all the world like he was having the best time.

  “You know,” Belaq said, “you should have just let me have the girl. Then your whole operation would have stayed hidden. You have no idea what you have unleashed. My men will be combing the city before dawn, looking for me.”

  The threats earned him two more punches from Robin before the redhead was pulled off the prisoner. “So sad and pathetic,” the duke taunted. “Your failed schemes do nothing to the crown but give us prisoners to fill our dungeons with.” His eyes flashed to Henry, who unconsciously moved closer to Charlotte for comfort.

  He’s toying with us, Charlotte realized. All of us. He thinks that he is buying time by distracting us from asking the real questions.

  He widened his eyes at her. “And you,” Belaq address Charlotte. “When will your friend return? We have unfinished business.”

  Robin turned to look at her. “What is he talking about?”

  “I don’t know.” Charlotte met his accusing glare unwaveringly.

  “And here I thought that was why they took you in,” Belaq said.

  “Charlotte?” Henry asked, looking more confused than Robin.

  Belaq sighed. “Unbelievable. It is a shame you have no idea what you’ve stumbled upon. That girl is all the leverage you need over your employee.”

  “What employee?” Robin asked.

  “The Cloaked Shadow.” The duke then burst out laughing. “The only worthy opponent amongst you stumbling buffoons. I had hoped our confrontation would happen sooner, but it appears I will have to wait for another time.” Every person in the room turned to stare at Charlotte in disbelief and suspicion.

  “Did he teach you those naughty fighting skills?” Belaq asked her, pleased that all of the attention had been diverted from thoughts of torturing him for information. “Because I will need to remember that for next time.” He licked his lips and continued. “What else did he teach you? What do you have up your sleeve?”

  Charlotte glared at him but refused to answer. Henry leaned over to whisper to her. “I think you should leave for now.” She was inclined to agree with her brother. The confrontation needed to end before any further secrets spilled forth. Plus, there was no doubt in her mind that Robin was already considering the implications of the duke’s reveal. Silently, she backed her way to the cellar stairs.

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” the rebel leader snapped. “The timing… You were with him, must have traveled here with him. You know the Cloaked Shadow’s true identity.” His voice had gone breathy with excitement, in a sickening way that made Charlotte wonder just what he had planned for her.

  There was no point in denying it anymore. Wherever you are, Fawkes, please forgive me, she prayed silently. Now her only course of action was to keep Robin from saying Fawkes’ name in front of Belaq. “Don’t say anything more,” Charlotte warned Robin. Her gaze met his, begging for him to understand what she was asking.

  A slow grin spread over the redhead’s face. “Yes, I think that is enough talking for now,” he agreed. Robin grabbed Charlotte’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “When I’m done with the duke, we are going to have a long discussion about Fawkes.” He savored the name, letting it run slowly through his lips.

  Then he turned to address the cluster of rebels waiting for his instructions. “I think I’ve heard all I need to about our mutual mysterious friend. And until the duke starts giving us answers to our other important questions, we have to do something to fill the time.” A boisterous cheer went up in the room.

  “Based on recent events, I think it is only right that we allow Henry to go first, right lads?” Robin roared.

  An unseen figure nudged Henry forward, pushing him past Charlotte’s side. “Go on, son,” Robin urged, his face shiny with sweat and sick anticipation. Charlotte watched her brother approach the duke cautiously, stopping within arm’s reach of the powerful prisoner before refusing to go any further. He turned around to look for reassurance in his comrades’ faces, and instead his gaze found Charlotte’s distraught expression. A sense of dread overcame her as she realized what they were all about to do. They wanted her sweet little brother to be the one to start it all.

  The duke leered at Henry, challenge in his stance as he readied himself within the chains. “I hoped it would be you,” Belaq said. “Do you know what I did to your poor, sweet mother? What my guards did to her as they dragged her, screaming, from your house?” Henry’s hands clenched into fists as he tried to process what the duke was telling him.

  Charlotte knew then that Belaq had no fear of beatings or torture, not if he could have the upper hand in some form. That intoxicating power was too tempting for common sense and self-preservation to overcome. He prided himself on being one step ahead of everyone else, and loved to pull the puppet strings. He played with Henry, knowing full well the repercussions his words incited. But it would be worth it to him to utterly destroy a man, to watch him disintegrate to his basic urges and lose total control.

  “You lie,” Henry spat, limbs quivering.

  “Do you think I would just let you walk out of my dungeon without punishment?” the duke said, low and deadly. “There is always a price to be paid. Your mother paid it for you with her life.”

  A small gasp escaped from Charlotte’s throat. At the sound, Henry turned around to see if by some miracle the duke was wrong, to reassure himself that his sister had not lied to him. Henry’s look of betrayal was enough to send tears pouring down her cheeks. Grief, the same grief that Charlotte had been processing over her long journey, slammed into Henry all at once. Unlike Charlotte, Henry had the very object of blame tied up in front of him, and he unleashed his anger in a frenzy of punches.

  Except for a few small grunts, no sound escaped from the duke as Henry struck his flesh. Charlotte, however, started screaming. “Henry! Stop! Please!” she begged. This feral creature in front of her wasn’t the brother she knew. She was powerless, forced to witness as the boy she grew up with toss away all semblance of his former self, baptized in violence and blood. Though she herself had fantasized about killing the duke for his crimes, seeing the reality of Henry’s transformation deeply disturbed her. Like a mirror, Charlotte could see Belaq’s nature taking hold inside Henry and reflecting back upon him.

  When she couldn’t take it anymore, Charlotte ran forward to pull Henry off while the rebels laughed. He whirled on her while swinging a well-aimed punch at her head. Charlotte ducked just in time, and tackled Henry at his knees. “Enough. Stop!”

  Belaq wheezed out a chuckle from his swollen face, already turning black and blue from the assault. He sagged in his bonds, bloody spit bubbling from his mouth and dripping onto the ground.

  “Henry!” Charlotte wrestled with her brother. “Listen to me—”

  “
You,” Henry gasped. “How could you?”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you—”

  Henry shoved his sister off of him before she could finish her excuses. Wild-eyed, he stood up and looked around the cellar, taking in Charlotte on the ground, Belaq in his chains, and the rebels grinning at him. He shoved his way to the stairs and out of the cellar.

  Charlotte ran up right behind him, and Robin didn’t move to stop her. “Henry, wait!” she cried. She needed to make things right with him, but also reassure herself that her brother, and not the stranger that tortured Belaq, still resided in his body. Charlotte heard the door close behind her as they ran into the alley, presumably to continue interrogating Belaq.

  As the siblings burst through the door of their temporary home, Henry refused to acknowledge Charlotte. At that moment, something inside of her snapped, and she couldn’t take the brunt of his misplaced anger any longer. “I did it to protect you, Henry,” she told him. He refused to turn around and acknowledge her, his silence telling her everything she needed to know. “But I can see now you are not a little boy anymore.” The sight of his brutal attack flashed in her mind with every blink. “But I’ve been through hell for you, and I didn’t do it so you could become Robin’s protégée. I hate Belaq too, but if I ever see you do something like that again, I’m gone. Even if you are my brother, I refuse to stand by and watch while you lose pieces of your humanity.”

  Like Fawkes has, she thought to herself. Which is why now he only kills if he has to. Fawkes might straddle the line between right and wrong, but he never killed out of malice or joy. It was simply part of the job for him. The absolute abandon she witnessed in both the duke and Henry when engaged in violence was directly opposite of the cool, calm, collected manner in which the Cloaked Shadow conducted business. But which was worse? Was one manner less human than the other?

  Henry’s words broke through her thoughts. “You’re going to lecture me? After you’ve been traveling with the most prolific and wanted criminal for weeks now, keeping his identity secret and protecting him? How many people do you think your precious Cloaked Shadow, or should I say Fawkes, has killed? Get off your high horse, Charlotte. You are no better than I am. No better than the rebels are. You don’t get to tell me when I’ve gone too far. Not after the secrets you’ve kept.”