I roll my eyes and am about to say something when a man barges into the chapel, his eyes wide. He sees us, but he’s too concerned to apologize.
“Bishop Baylor,” he says, “the shadow dragon has attacked Vallen Harbor.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“What were you thinking?” Barowalt demands the moment he meets us in the castle courtyard.
My brother, Keven, Rogert, Rafe, and Hallgrave are all five dressed in full armor, ready for battle. Their horses prance, nervous in the commotion the king’s knights make as they prepare to take after the beast. From the murderous looks on my men’s faces, I know I’m in for it.
Barowalt’s agitation is marred with relief, making him all the angrier. He knows I was missing, but does he know why?
I glance at Milly, who’s practically wringing her hands behind my brother.
She looks apologetic, and she nearly whispers, “Once the attack was announced, I had to tell him where you were.”
Sighing, I give her a tight smile, hoping she knows I’m not upset with her.
“Well, I suppose you don’t have to answer to me,” Barowalt snarls, speaking to me but glaring at Irving. “I have no jurisdiction over you now.”
Beside him, Keven and Rogert’s faces are hard. I try to get a smile from them, but they don’t waver. They look hurt. Hurt that I ran away, hurt that I didn’t tell even them.
Hallgrave looks conflicted, hating that there’s tension between the five of us. His eyes move from Barowalt to me, and he frowns.
“We didn’t marry,” Irving says, his voice clipped.
At his age, the prince obviously doesn’t appreciate being chastised like a child. It’s not surprising. He’s the future king of a kingdom that, though small compared to Vernow or Errinton, is five times larger than Brookraven.
When another degree of relief flickers over Barowalt’s face, I step forward, now irritated myself. “But we did have a bishop perform a promising ceremony.”
Milly, who’s face fell when Irving said we didn’t get married, now lights up, her eyes sparkling. She bites back a grin, obviously not wanting Barowalt’s irritation to transfer to her.
My brother lets out a slow, calming breath. “Very well.”
I glance at Rogert, and he finally gives me a small grudging smile. I know he’s not angry. He simply doesn’t like to be left out of the loop. Keven, however, doesn’t look as forgiving.
“We need to leave if we’re going to track the beast,” the blond knight says, not even looking at me.
Irving nods. “I’ll go with you.”
Keven looks like he wants to argue, but Barowalt gives Irving a curt nod. The men’s attention turns to Javid, who’s leading one of the parties, and I catch Irving’s arm.
“Be careful,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “I’m always careful.”
Something passes between us, and I want to step into him, brush my hand over the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Kiss him like my brother and his men aren’t standing an arm’s length away.
As if he can tell where my thoughts have strayed, his smile turns to a smirk.
“Barowalt.” I turn away from Irving before I do something I’ll regret. “Let me come with you.”
“Absolutely not.” He doesn’t even think of it.
“In the last two attacks, the beast has appeared in places I was either in or just left.” I pause, waiting for my words to have an effect. “If I come…it might find me.”
My brother’s face goes hard. “You already put yourself in enough danger for one night.”
“How were we to know the creature had moved to northern Ptarma?” I argue.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not going.”
Just when I’m about to argue further, Milly lays a hand on my arm. I glance at her, and she gives me a look that subtly tells me Barowalt’s had enough for this evening.
“Fine.” I step back. “I’ll stay.”
I cross my arms as I watch the men ride out of the courtyard and into the night.
***
We stay the night in Aunt Camilla’s quarters, and Milly and I linger up until almost dawn, waiting for the men to return. Just after the last bell announces it’s after four in the morning, the search parties return. Exhausted, and not expecting a report until morning, Milly and I find our beds and sleep well past breakfast.
It’s nearly afternoon by the time we venture into the hall. I hesitate outside Irving’s door, wondering if I should knock or if I should leave him be after such a taxing night.
Milly, seeing my hesitation, says, “Let him sleep for now. He’ll find you soon.”
Nodding, I step from the door, and we venture to the hall to see if there is anything left of the morning meal.
“They’re too fond of fish here,” I whisper to Milly when I browse the platters that have been left in the hall for the late risers.
Each one is piled high with smoked fish, rolls, different types of cheeses, and an assortment of grapes. Already, several of the men who arrived home in the wee hours of the morning have come down and are dining in clusters. The atmosphere is hushed, tense, but Milly and I glean bits of information from nearby conversations.
The beast wasn’t found. With the streets as desolate as Irving and I found them last night, it’s not a surprise to learn the creature was unable to harm anyone or anything in the village, but, almost seemingly in anger, it destroyed a docked ship this time.
Three sailors were lost.
Milly has said little, which surprises me. I expected her to ask dozens of questions about my evening after I left with Irving, but her mind seems preoccupied.
Grace wanders into the hall when we’re nearly finished. She spots us and sinks into a seat across from us. “Good morning.”
The dark circles under her eyes belay that it’s anything but.
“How is Javid?” I ask.
The duchess sighs. “Tired, discouraged. They didn’t find any trace of the beast last night.”
I nod toward a group of nearby men. “So we’ve heard.”
She frowns, looking thoughtful. “From what the villagers said, it prowled the streets for nearly half an hour before it attacked the ship.”
“It sounds like it was looking for something,” Milly says.
“Me.” Ice works its way into my stomach, and I feel slightly ill as I remember the gypsy’s words. “It was looking for me.”
Grace and Milly turn their attention to me, looking concerned.
“But why?” Grace asks.
“I don’t know.” Then I pause. “Or maybe I do.”
Milly looks horrified, but Grace looks curious. She brushes her long, dark honey hair over her shoulder. “Well?”
“Maybe it senses them on me.”
I won’t say ‘unicorns’ in the great hall, not with so many ears nearby, but Grace nods, not needing further prompting.
In hushed tones, Grace leans forward. “Do you think this thing, whatever it is, knows about the Order?”
“It obviously hunted the blessing before it began its tirade through Ptarma,” I answer. “Perhaps it needs their strength.”
“And perhaps it’s getting low again,” Milly says, her face growing pale.
Grace drums her fingers on the table, looking pensive. “This is ridiculous,” she finally says. “All we can do is guess until we find out what we’re up against.”
Javid enters the hall, and several of the men call out to him. As Grace said, he looks exhausted. As I turn to greet him, my eyes settle on the couple who are quietly arguing at the table behind us.
I hadn’t noticed my cousin until now.
Kent’s eyes stray to mine, and I instantly yank my gaze away, feeling guilty. Like I was eavesdropping. From what I saw, Giselle looked unsettled, agitated. Kent says something else to his wife, and then he pushes away from the table and stalks out of the hall. I watch him for a moment, frowning.
Suddenly, Giselle looks my way. Her expression
is icy, and I turn away first.
Despite all her bluff and bravado, the princess seems just as unsettled by the attacks as the rest of us.
***
King Edlund has called a meeting, and all the nobles who still linger at court, the few who haven’t traveled home to check on the wellbeing of their families, gather in the great hall. Barowalt speaks quietly with Keven, Rogert, and Javid, but I stay to the side. I have no information to add to the conversation.
I sense Irving a split-second before he steps up next to me.
“You slept most of the morning,” I say quietly, happier to see him than I should be.
“I was up half the night.”
Stepping slightly closer, brushing his arm with my shoulder, I ask, “Did you learn anything last night?”
“Only that I’m glad we didn’t linger in Vallen Harbor.”
He says it lightly, but there’s a solemnness in his words. I shudder, remembering our night running through Constelita. I, too, am glad we left the port village for larger Kallert.
“Do you know what the meeting is about?” I ask.
Irving shakes his head. “I’m not close enough to the nobility to have been informed.” He glances over. “But I did overhear something about Barowalt’s gypsy friend.”
The thought of him, the thought of his dark eyes boring into mine while he darkly promised I’d been marked, sends a tremor of apprehension through me.
As much as I wanted to dismiss his words at the time, it’s becoming more difficult to deny there may be truth to them.
Edlund stands in front of us, and a hush falls over the small crowd. “I’m afraid we learned little in our search last night.”
The crowd murmurs their agreement.
“Which leads me to believe Barowalt and his men are right when they suggested the creature might be the work of a wizard.”
There are several exclamations and surprised gasps.
Next to me, Barowalt shifts.
Irving shakes his head, ready to speak, but then it seems he changes his mind and keeps quiet.
“I’ve sent a party of knights to Coralridge to have the gypsy, who was arrested the day after the attack in Constelita, brought here for additional questioning.”
I pull Irving to the side as the king continues to speak. “But you said it was a creature of flesh and blood.”
Irving crosses his arms, and his finger twitches against his arm. “It had to have been. How else would my arrows have injured it?”
“You should tell them,” I say.
Slowly, Irving nods. “I will, but let’s see what this gypsy has to say as well. He might know more than he’s letting on.”
Again, I grow cold.
Sensing my anxiousness, Irving takes my hand, and we turn back to the conversation.
***
“What do you mean, the gypsy has escaped?” Edlund says, his voice growing loud in the small stone room.
“According to the jailer,” the knight says, “he broke out the day before yesterday.”
The day before the masquerade.
It’s a small gathering, limited this time to family. Irving’s not here and neither are our knights or Milly.
Javid paces, rubbing a hand over his face as he thinks. Grace sits quietly, not far from him, tapping a charcoal over a sketchbook. Both look like they should have taken a nap this afternoon like many of the rest of us did.
“I knew it. He’s involved,” Barowalt practically growls.
Knowing my brother as I do, he’s probably wondering why he didn’t run the gypsy through when he had the chance.
Kent sits in the corner near his father, the king’s brother, silent. Though he’s third in line for the throne, he almost looks bored of the political strife, like he wishes he were off on one of his hunting trips instead of here.
Giselle is oddly absent, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because the pair is still fighting. Perhaps she found out about his mistress.
If that is the case, I don’t blame her for being angry.
The prince catches me looking at him, nods a greeting, and then looks back to his uncle.
There’s something about him. Something I don’t like.
A knock at the door draws our attention, and we turn as Giselle enters with a young, dark-haired farm girl I’ve never seen before.
“Forgive the interruption,” the princess says. Her eyes gleam, and she’s obviously proud of herself. She motions to the girl next to her. “This is Nadia. Her family runs the stables near the inn in Vallen Harbor.”
Edlund nods, his expression striving for politeness although he’s obviously irritated with the intrusion. “I know her family.” He turns to Giselle. “But I don’t know why she’s here.”
Nadia flushes and looks at the ground.
“She knows the whereabouts of the beast.” Giselle looks particularly proud of herself, like she’s the one with the information and not the girl.
The king straightens. “Well, then, please tell us.”
The girl looks terrified. She’s practically shaking, and she twists her apron in her fingers. Her eyes dart from the floor to Giselle. When the princess gives her a threatening look that I think is meant to be reassuring, the girl begins. “My grandfather has fallen ill, Your Majesty, and I stayed the night to care for him. I left his cottage early in the morning, before the sun came up, so I could tend my chores before I needed to help Mother with breakfast. We’d had no news of the attack. I was passing the bluffs to the east of Vallen Harbor when my horse became skittish.” She gulps and continues on, “My mare’s not the flighty type, and I hurried past. That’s when I heard it.”
Nadia trails off, looking to Giselle for reassurance. Giselle nods her on, impatient.
“It stopped my heart cold. It sounded like the cry of a wolf—”
“And I told you there are no wolves this close to the shore,” Giselle hisses, growing impatient with the girl’s rambling. “Just tell them what you saw.”
The girl’s eyes go wide. “I saw the shadow dragon, Your Majesty. He turned to vapor in front of my very eyes…fizzled away into nothing.”
Edlund leans forward. “And?”
Nadia looks back at Giselle, nods, and then turns back to the king. “In his place was a man.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Irving’s words circle in my mind. He said the beast was of flesh and blood, not conjured as so many, including my brother, are now determined to believe. And how couldn’t they after hearing the girl’s testimony?
The girl is flooded with questions. She tries to answer them, but she’s unused to this much attention, and she looks ready to pass out.
Feeling the need for air, I step from the room. I slip into a nearby alcove, a tiny nook with a soft upholstered chair by a window. On a better day, it would be the perfect place to read or sew.
I sit and stare out at the garden.
Perhaps Irving was mistaken? It was dark that night, and he was as exhausted as I was—perhaps more, for he was carrying Letta as we raced through the streets.
The doors to Edlund and Clara’s private meeting rooms open, and people filter out. I watch them pass by, but they don’t seem to notice me here, tucked away.
Barowalt, Javid, Aldus, and the king’s brother discuss gathering another party to hunt the wizard down. They speak of leaving immediately, hoping to catch the man in his hideout before he moves on.
I bite my lip, thinking.
I’m jolted from my brooding by a hissed conversation.
“You will not go with them,” a woman says. “There are plenty of volunteers. They don’t need you.”
A man lets out a low, mirthless laugh. “Careful, someone might think you care about my fate.”
Feeling like an intruder, I peek around the corner, careful to keep hidden.
Giselle purses her lips, trying to control her temper. “Your safety is always my utmost concern. You are the most important thing in my life.”
Oddly
, there’s true conviction in her words. She looks at her husband as if he’s dear to her, precious.
It’s odd, considering the predatory look that darkens her eyes when she spots Irving.
Kent shakes his head, his eyes flashing. “I thought so once. But I know you well enough now. Your lies mean nothing to me.”
He turns, and she sets her hand on his arm, her face softening. “Stop, Kent—”
With a jerk of his arm, he strides off, leaving her staring after him with her hand still raised. I shouldn’t watch her, shouldn’t pity her, but for some reason, I can’t help myself. As soon as he turns the corner, her face crumples. She looks pitiful, like a petulant child who didn’t get her way, but there’s true worry in her expression.
Before she sees me, I slip back into the chair and wait for her to walk down the hall.
***
The day is just dawning. Nobles and knights prepare their horses—a small legion of men all going after one man.
Even a wizard doesn’t have a chance.
Still, a sinking feeling settles in my stomach.
Behind me, Irving sets a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention. I turn and put on a smile for him.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” I try to keep the words light.
He gives me a look I’m coming to know quite intimately. It’s his cocky, nothing-in-the-world-can-touch-me expression. He raises an eyebrow as his mouth twists into a lopsided smirk. “I’m not worried about a gypsy.”
I step forward and trail my hand down his arm before I meet his eyes. “We both know that’s not what you’re walking into.”
“The fortune teller escaped the day before the attack, and they have the girl’s word.” Irving shrugs, but his eyes shadow. “I must have been mistaken.”
His chain mail is cool under my fingers. I trace the pattern of the metal rings with my finger before I finally let my hand drop. “We both know you weren’t.”
He grins, easy. “I can admit it when I’m wrong, Audette.”
A tiny smile tips my lips. “I can admit when you’re wrong as well.” I lock my eyes with his. “But this time, I don’t believe you were.”
Audette of Brookraven (The Eldentimber Series Book 4) Page 17