“Not having the servants help you anymore?” Henri called through the door. “Glad to see you’ve learned to dress yourself. Bravo.”
“We’re at war. The servants have better things to do. Besides, at least I know how to shave properly.” He imagined Henri running his hand over his blond chin stubble self-consciously. “Now, did you come here for a reason, or was your purpose just to annoy me?”
“Well, if you must know, my father had business just south of your border, and I thought you might enjoy seeing me.”
In spite of himself, Nicholas smiled smugly as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Meaning it was dangerous and he wouldn’t let you help.”
“Precisely.” Henri paused. “But it seems your father has no scruples about sending you into dangerous places. Care to trade for a day?”
Nicholas splashed some water on his face before returning to his front chamber. “My father has never suffered the loss of a single night’s sleep for sending me anywhere. His main concern was always that I not make bad situations worse. And now that I have proven myself to be at least somewhat competent in his eyes, I have become a convenient errand boy of all sorts.” He held his hand out and Henri gave the parchment back.
“At least he relented with the military. From what I hear, you seem to be as involved as you ever wanted to be.” Henri frowned. “Why are you being sent to look for Willard Appleby?”
“It seems the dolt finally fell prey to his own stupidity. His father reported him missing yesterday, and they think he might have been kidnapped by slave traders while visiting the eastern wharf.”
Henri’s smug expression darkened. “Isn’t that what you think happened—”
“Yes.” Nicholas squeezed the parchment so tightly his thumb went through it. Crumpling it up and throwing it at the wall, he returned to his dressing room and began pulling clothing from a wardrobe. Henri followed.
“But your father didn’t allow you to—”
“No.” Nicholas began shoving his clothes into a satchel. “Appleby’s father, however, has been an important financial contributor to the war effort, and thus, his precious son is a top priority.”
Henri was quiet for a long moment. When Nicholas finally looked up at him, he had moved over to the southern window and was staring out with a solemn expression. “My mother cried when we received your message,” he said softly. He turned and looked at Nicholas, his gray eyes no longer teasing. “They would have done everything in their power to find her if you had asked. All you had to say was the word.”
Nicholas closed his bag and leaned on it, closing his eyes. “I know.” He shook his head. “But if my father had caught wind of their interference, he probably would have gone out of his way to make it more difficult for them.” He shook his head. “Everyone would have been hurt, including Elaina.”
“I know. My mother said the same.” Henri kicked a pillow that lay on the floor. “But not a day goes by where she doesn’t think about Elaina and how they might have helped her.”
Nicholas shook his head to clear it of the dark thoughts. “Well, I’m sorry you’ve come just to see me gone.”
“Are you taking that spy you told me about?”
“I don’t think so. He’s already in Solwhind on another mission.” Nicholas paused, then looked up. “Unless you wish to join me. Would your father approve?”
“Of course I want to go. And would he approve? Absolutely not.” Henri grinned. “I’m only here because Eloy is escorting my brother and sister to some event in the east. Mother is going with them, and Father didn’t want to leave me alone. Eloy’s already annoyed because I’m with you.”
“Why?”
“He thinks you’re a bad influence on me.” Henri pulled an orange from his pocket and began to peel it.
“Does that mean you want to stay here?”
“No, you loon! Let’s go.”
* * *
Henri, Nicholas, Captain Oliver, and the three soldiers accompanying them rode hard, arriving at the docks just after midnight. It wasn’t long before they had located the small vessel posing as a trade ship that was to take them across the bay.
As soon as they boarded, Nicholas and Henri retired below deck to their cramped quarters while Captain Oliver stayed with his men.
“What’s wrong with you today?”
Nicholas looked up from the stick he’d been whittling.
Henri leaned back and shook his head. “I visit you for the first time in six months, and you haven’t heard a word I’ve said since we pulled anchor, have you?”
“Your sister has been rubbing off on you. You haven’t shut up since we left.”
Henri leaned forward. “I mean it. What’s wrong?”
Nicholas stared hard at the stick he was whittling. No shape was appearing, despite the hundreds of wood shavings that were piled up on his boots. An hour of work, and Nicholas had succeeded in whittling . . . another stick. He threw the knife and the stick on the ground.
“Fine then. Suit yourself.” Henri lay back on his cot and kicked his boots off.
“I had a dream the night before last.”
Nicholas pulled his hat over his face. “About?” His voice was muffled.
“Do you remember how I wrote to you and told you I was going to ask Elaina to marry me?”
“And steal all the glory of Sophia’s big day for your own? Yes, I recall something like that. We couldn’t go because my brother was unwell.”
Nicholas’s throat went dry. “Did you know that if she had said yes . . . if none of this had happened, we could have been married by now?” His voice fell to a whisper. “Our daughter might have already been old enough to walk.”
Henri sat up on his elbow. “Daughter?” He leaned forward. “You know most dreams are simply that, Nicholas. Just dreams.”
“I know that,” Nicholas snapped. Then he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “This one was just so real. It was . . . what could have been.”
What could have been if he hadn’t been a fool.
If his father wasn’t so obstinate.
If Nicholas had had the courage to defy the magistrates.
When Henri didn’t answer, Nicholas looked over at him. In the dim light of the single lantern, he could see his friend staring pensively at the ground. Finally, Henri nodded.
“If that’s the way you feel, I just have one question.”
“And that is?”
“How are we going to find her?”
Nicholas felt a ridiculous grin spread across his face. “I was hoping you would ask that.”
After about an hour of planning, they decided to retire in preparation for their early morning. Henri, however, took him by surprise when he said,
“She’s changed you, you know.”
Nicholas had lain back in his cot and was glad his friend couldn’t see his face. “What makes you say that?”
“I may not often be around, but I’ve seen you enough to know that you haven’t worn a woman on your arm since the day she disappeared.”
Nicholas rolled over, the lump in his throat growing. “We’ve got an early day tomorrow. Might as well get some sleep.”
But rest really wasn’t what Nicholas wanted at all. As he closed his eyes, Nicholas prayed desperately that the Maker might give him the dream once more. A few more minutes with what should have been.
36
Signs
Nicholas and Henri kept their heads down and their eyes sharp as they made their way through the marketplace closest to the wharf. Blending in was harder for Nicholas than it was for Henri, of course, as he stood a good head taller than everyone around them, so Nicholas was relieved when he spotted the stall. Signaling to his guards with a casual gesture, he stopped and pretended to browse the selection of bread at the stand. Henri stood behind him, keeping watch while Nicholas did the talking.
“Not a wide variety,” Nicholas remarked to the stall’s owner.
“Not many supplies getting in and
out of the city,” the owner said, hardy glancing up at Nicholas from the knife he was using to clean his fingernails. “King’s got us cut off on nearly all sides. Only a few ships get in and out, and those who do charge heavily for what they carry. Same goes for the land borders, too.” He finally put his knife down. “You must be new here.”
“As you said, some ships do get in and out.” Nicholas lifted a loaf and examined it. “Last I saw your city, it was much cleaner, too. And your people better fed.” He rapped his knuckles on the bread, which made a hollow sound.
The man shrugged and scratched his dirty mustache. “No bailiffs, no rules.” He squinted at Nicholas. “What of it?”
Nicholas lowered his voice. “I’m looking for someone.” Glancing around to make sure they weren’t being watched too closely, he pulled a gold coin out of the wrist of his glove. The coin had a small circle of stamped wax on one side, so small one might mistake it for mere grime.
The man’s eyes widened just a hair. He quickly snatched the coin from Nicholas and shoved it beneath the table.
“And?”
Nicholas leaned forward and pretended to examine another piece of bread in the corner. “Willard Appleby,” he whispered before straightening again.
To his surprise, the man looked puzzled. “Why that one?”
“His father believes he was abducted at the eastern harbor several days ago.”
“Aye, he’s here.” The man paused. “But I’m not sure you’ll find him as helpless as you think.”
“Why is that?”
Before the man could answer, Henri bumped him from behind. They were running out of time.
“Just tell me where to find him.”
The man nodded and whispered an address.
Henri bumped him again, but Nicholas had one more question. “Are there any pockets of slaves here? Somewhere I might find those forced into servitude?”
“Any still here are with the wealthy, but it would be impossible to find them all. Most are only daring to keep one or two whilst the war is going on.” He paused and scanned the crowd, then pointed subtly. “But you see that girl over there? The one with the gold and purple bracelet? She belongs to the largest group I’ve seen yet. Her owner keeps six. Used to have eight before two got away.”
Nicholas turned and looked at the young woman, his breath speeding up. His heart fell when he saw her, though, for even though she was about Elaina’s age, the girl was taller and far more full-figured than Elaina had ever been. Still, she was a lead. And that was the most Nicholas could ask for.
Nicholas turned and nodded his thanks to the man, handing him another coin and taking one of the stale loaves with him. Henri followed close behind. Henri’s sword remained in its sheath, but the crease between his brows told Nicholas exactly how Henri felt about the marketplace. And Nicholas didn’t blame him.
They made their way through the dirty children, beggars, and nearly empty stalls to the alley where the girl stood, trying to bargain with someone selling shawls. Her shoes had holes in them, and her clothes were threadbare. Messy red hair was pulled into a thick braid that was wound carelessly around the girl’s head.
Nicholas prayed Elaina’s lot was better than that of this girl.
As they drew closer, Nicholas realized she was accompanied by a very large man. Though not as tall as Nicholas was, the man was about three times as wide, with arms as thick as Nicholas’s legs. Nicholas glanced back at Henri, who nodded slightly without looking away from the large man. They needed a distraction.
Henri swerved to the left and stumbled into a woman pushing a cart of firewood. Calling out apology after apology, he attempted to help her pick up the mess, but only succeeded in spilling more of the wood. Nicholas prayed quickly that Henri would escape unscathed as the woman’s husband began jabbing a finger at Henri and shouting at the top of his lungs.
Nicholas owed his friend a very large mug of ale when they got back to the palace.
As he had hoped, the large man’s attention was set on the scene Henri had created. Nicholas slipped up beside the red-haired girl and pretended to look at shawls as well.
“I apologize for my forwardness, miss, but would you happen to have a name?” he murmured.
The girl turned and looked at him warily. Her initial look of suspicion, however, turned to wide-eyed shock. “You’re—”
“Please don’t.”
“Oh. Yes.” She nodded and went back to sorting through the shawls, but her hands shook. “Aspen is my name, Your—um, sir.”
“Do you belong to a household of other servants as well?”
She nodded. “Matilda Winters.”
“Do you know a girl about your age named Elaina?”
“No, sir.”
He had known that asking the question was like loosing an arrow into the dark. Still, when she said no, he felt all the air rush out of his chest. He hadn’t realized he’d allowed himself to hope until now.
Nevertheless, this girl and her fellow servants were his people. His responsibility. Elaina might not be with them, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t help them.
Elaina would have done it.
“I don’t have much time.” He glanced back at the large man behind them, whose gaze was still on Henri’s ruckus. “Don’t tell the others who I am, but . . . could you get out of the house tonight? All of you? And make it to the fourth dock on the wharf?”
She glanced at him, eyes wide. She looked terrified, but she nodded. “I . . . I think so.”
“Good. Have them there tonight no later than midnight.” He glanced back at the guard, who had turned and was staring right at him.
“Be there,” he whispered. Nodding, he flipped the stall owner a coin and handed the girl the wrap he had randomly picked out.
“She’s delectable,” he said loudly, nodding to the big man as he left. “I’m surprised you haven’t swept her off her feet.”
The big man rolled his eyes, and Nicholas quickened his step. Hopefully the man had believed his act. Though Nicholas was loathe to play the flirt again, he knew that if she got in trouble, it would be a more forgivable sin for her to get caught talking to a flirt than a spy.
Nicholas was relieved, when he returned, to find the cart upright again and Henri placing the last log back on top of it. He caught Henri’s eye, and Henri apologized once again to the couple before falling into step behind Nicholas.
As soon as they had rounded a corner and could no longer see the market, Henri caught up. “You owe me.”
“I know.”
“Honestly, do you know how much trouble I would be in if my father found out I nearly had to knock someone unconscious just so you could talk to a girl?”
Nicholas sent his friend a sideways grin. “Your father does realize that you’re of twenty-two years, does he not?”
Henri snorted. “You try telling that to the Great King Everard of Destin.”
Nicholas laughed, but his humor died quickly. “That girl was a slave. We’re taking six of them back with us on the boat tonight when we’re done with this errand.”
Henri gave him a look of disbelief. “First of all, we have no guarantee this debacle will be finished by tonight, particularly if Appleby is up to more than his father thinks he is. Second, have you forgotten that our little boat only carries twelve at most?” He glanced around at the four men walking with them at varying distances. “They make four. You and I are six, and if we succeed in getting this fool back from his kidnappers or whoever helped him get here, that makes seven. We can only take five more.”
“We’ll figure that out when we get there. We’ll think of something. We always do.”
Henri rolled his eyes.
“I mean it. The Maker has given us a chance to free six people from enslavement. Do you think I’m going to let the size of a rowboat ruin this chance?” After all, it was what he hoped someone else would do if they found Elaina . . . wherever she was.
“Nicholas, in two years you have gone fr
om being one of the most wayward reprobates I had the pleasure of calling friend, to the most annoyingly pious and faithful.”
Nicholas refused to look at his friend. “It’s just like you said. She changed me. Now shut up. Here we are.” He stopped before a tavern. “We’ll stay here until the evening. Once it’s dark, we’ll look for Appleby.”
As they went inside, Nicholas drew in a deep breath. They would figure out the sailing details later. First he had to find Willard. Then he would find Elaina.
37
Stolen Gifts
Nicholas squinted down the street in the deepening of the evening light. He could barely make out Oliver motioning toward the big storehouse.
Either the foolish young man had really been kidnapped, or he was up to no good. Because the Willard Appleby Nicholas knew wouldn’t be caught dead in a common fish house. Particularly an abandoned one.
Nicholas motioned back to Oliver, then he and Henri darted across the street to the fish house while his soldiers fanned out.
Hoods pulled down over their faces, Henri and Nicholas flattened themselves against the rough wooden wall and peered through the single window beside the door. Several candles had been lit inside, but not enough for them to make out any details through the dirty window. Aside from the flames’ flickers, no movement was made. But surely someone was inside. Only a fool would leave behind lit candles in a warehouse made of wood.
They waited there for much longer than Nicholas had hoped. Suppressing the horrid urge to kick off his boot when he felt something crawl into it, he had just begun to wonder if their contact had been wrong when a shadow crossed in front of the window. Before passing by completely, it seemed to stop and look out the window, leaning into the pane to stare outside. After muttering something Nicholas couldn’t make out through the glass, the figure began to pace again.
“Doesn’t look like a hostage to me,” Henri whispered.
“There’s only one way to find out.” As Nicholas left his hiding place to stand at the door, he had the sinking sensation of familiarity.
Cinders, Stars, and Glass Slippers: A Retelling of Cinderella Page 27