The Torn Wing

by Kiki Hamilton

  “It’s simple. All you have to do is touch it. When the stone roars then Donegal must relinquish the throne until Samhain.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Leo glanced up in alarm as lightning cracked the sky above his head. This latest storm had blown in quickly and settled directly over Buckingham, making the afternoon as dark as night. He pulled his coat tighter and glanced around. The uncomfortable sensation of being watched that he’d experienced over the last few days had grown even stronger.

  Protection around his mother and the Palace had been increased. No strangers were allowed through the doors without being accompanied by the Queen’s guard. Leo had found it was even getting difficult for him to leave the Palace. He’d slipped out a side door for this visit to the mews.

  Dark shadows wavered across the path as he neared the stables as the lamps had not yet been lit for the night. His desire to check on his favorite horse, Diablo, who had recently shown signs of going lame, had driven him outside. But now, he was having second thoughts.

  “Rubbish,” Leo whispered to himself, “Wills would never jump at a few shadows.” He put his head down against a gust of cool air and trudged on.

  The first blow hit him square across the back. He let out a cry of surprise as he was knocked to his knees. Before he could turn to see who had accosted him, another blow caught him across the shoulder and flipped him onto his back.

  For a fleeting second he saw a dark figure standing above him, swathed in shadows. Leo put his arm up to shield himself, squinting to make out his attacker, but the person lunged at Leo’s face with blurring speed.

  Leo let out a scream of pure terror as red hot pain burned from his neck. Then, everything went black.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The streets were teeming as Tiki and Rieker’s carriage wound its way back toward Grosvenor Square. They were returning from Covent Garden where they’d gone to give away some bread and cheddar to the homeless children who haunted the market, even in winter.

  In the summer months, the beggars teemed like fish swimming upstream, sleeping in the baskets of the fruit, flower and vegetable vendors, dodging the constables and fighting for the rotten and damaged goods. Tiki, herself, had spent many a day at Covent Garden, trying to fill her cap and pockets with fresh fruit when the costermongers weren’t looking.

  As they made their way down busy Regent Street shouts from the drivers rose above the noise of the street as omnibuses loaded down with passengers jockeyed for position among the cabs, private carriages, and goods wagons.

  When they turned onto Maddox Street, which became Grosvenor Lane, the roads quieted as if they’d entered a different world. Stately buildings stretched like soldiers at attention, providing an aura of gentility not found in other parts of the City.

  As they approached the entry to the stables, Rieker sat forward in his seat.

  “We’ve got company.”

  Tiki peered around his shoulders and saw the large, ornate carriage parked ahead in the driveway. Three footman and a driver stood next to the coach, their red coats and white breeches a bright spot of color in the dark, drizzly day.

  “I believe it’s either Leo or Arthur,” Rieker said. He disembarked from the carriage and Tiki followed him into the drawing room where a young man in a grey suit stood staring down into the fire. “Arthur,” he called. “How nice to see you. Is Leo with you?”

  Prince Arthur turned at the sound of Rieker’s voice. Tiki could tell from the Prince’s expression that something was wrong.

  “Wills,” Arthur said, in a tone of pleasure and relief mixed. His eyes traveled past Rieker to where Tiki stood in the shadows.

  Rieker motioned for her to join them. “What a pleasant surprise, Arthur. What brings you up to Grosvenor Square?”

  Tiki dropped into a curtsy and could feel the heat crawling up her cheeks. She still found it a bit intimidating that Rieker had grown up with royalty.

  Arthur leaned forward. “I wanted to catch you as soon as you returned.”

  “Why?” Rieker sank into a chair across from the prince. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Leo. He’s been attacked.”

  Tiki gasped. “What?”

  Rieker jerked forward, his expression becoming serious. “Tell us what happened.”

  “He was on his way to the mews this afternoon to check on his horse. Apparently, the assailant was hiding in the shadows along the building.” Arthur’s expression was terse, worry heavy in his eyes.

  “The bloke knocked Leo to his knees from behind, then attacked him.”

  “Is he all right?” Rieker’s voice was thick with disbelief.

  Tiki’s heart raced so fast she could barely breathe. Larkin had told the truth.

  “He’s not seriously hurt. His shouts brought the guards and scared the man away. He’s bruised, banged up and totally out of sorts.” Arthur pushed himself out of the chair and paced to the fireplace again. “Understandably. But the worst of it is a deep cut on his neck.”

  “The assailant had a knife?”

  Arthur shook his head and turned to face them. “The wound doesn’t have clean edges like a knife cut. The skin is jagged and torn—” he took a deep breath— “punctured, almost. More like what a claw might make, I imagine. The biggest problem however, is that the physicians can’t get the wound to stop bleeding.”

  A horrible image of a clawed creature attacking Leo filled Tiki’s mind. Donegal and the UnSeelies were attacking the royals. They were all in great danger. Was the Queen next?

  The young prince shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stared at Rieker. “I’m afraid Mamie’s warning has come true.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, after the others had gone to bed, Rieker and Tiki sat together in the library. Rieker paced in front of the fire, his long legs covering the distance in just a few steps before he turned and repeated the pattern. His brow was scrunched with worry.

  “Arthur seems convinced Leo’s attack was connected with the war in the Otherworld.”

  “It does make it seem like Larkin is telling the truth,” Tiki said.

  Rieker’s lips pressed in a thin line as he came to a stop in front of where she sat near the fire. “I’ve thought of that. Which makes me wonder if Larkin didn’t stage the attack for exactly that reason.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tiki went from room to room and checked on Clara, Toots and Fiona before she retired to her own bedchamber for the night. Shamus had said goodnight earlier, as he rose before the sun to get to his job at the bakery. She had told Rieker of Larkin’s nighttime visit and he’d insisted she leave her bedroom door open, in case she needed to call for his help during the night.

  “Do you think Larkin is telling the truth?” she’d asked. “That all I need to do is touch a stone?”

  Rieker had given her a doubtful look. “Nothing is ever simple where Larkin is concerned.”

  Juliette, the housemaid, had turned down the covers and Tiki ran a hand over the smooth sheets. It was a different world that Rieker lived in; an elite and privileged one to which she would never have access should she and Rieker part ways. The distance had grown between them since Rieker’s return, making her realize how deep her feelings for him went. But with that realization also came insecurity. What if Rieker didn’t always feel the same way about her? Was there a place for two people with such different backgrounds to make a life together? The need to be prepared for their eventual parting was stronger than ever.

  Tiki sighed and slipped into her night dress, her toes curling away from the chill of the floor. Only time would tell what the future held for her and Rieker. The rain was still falling and there was talk the Thames might flood. She pulled on a pair of socks and walked to the window to pull the drapes tight. As she grabbed a handful of the thick velvet fabric to pull the curtain, a movement outside caught her eye.

  She paused and stared through the diamond panes toward the tree-filled square. A gust of wind caus
ed the light from the street lamps to flicker as the rain blew sideways. Who would possibly be out on a night like this?

  The dark figure of a man stood unmoving beneath the giant arms of an elm tree. He appeared to be wearing a long coat with his hands shoved in the pockets. Tiki squinted through the darkness but the shadows were so deep it was impossible to see his face. A chill ran down her arms, turning her skin to goose flesh. The questions that seemed to swirl constantly in the back of her mind got louder. Who had attacked Leo? Would they come after her?

  Suddenly afraid, she stepped back and tugged the curtains together, blocking out the stormy weather and unusual shadows.

  “WHAT SHALL WE do today?” Tiki asked as they were finishing up breakfast the next morning. Rieker had left early to check on several business matters as well as to visit Leo. “The rain has finally stopped and I think I actually saw a bit of sunshine out there. Shall we go to the park?”

  “Yes,” Clara cried, jumping up and down in excitement. “By the water where the black swans swim. Do you remember Tiki? Not far from where we used to live.”

  “You mean St. James Park,” Fiona said, smiling. Her eyes were bright and there was color in her cheeks. Tiki had never seen her look happier. “Yes, I think that’s a brilliant idea. And after, we could go visit Mr. Potts—so Tiki can get a new book to read to us.”

  “That sounds good as long as I don’t have to read it myself,” Toots said, in between shoving the last bites of oatmeal into his mouth.

  “Excellent point, Toots, it is time for you to work on your reading again.” Tiki pushed clear of the table, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. “Fi, you don’t want to go to Charing Cross because someone named Johnny might be there, do you?”

  “That’s right,” Toots exclaimed, his spoon scraping against the bottom of his bowl. “Johnny lives in the old abandoned clock-maker’s shop where we used to…” The young boy stopped and shot a guilty look over his shoulder at Mrs. Bosworth, who stood at the sink washing dishes, giving no indication she’d heard their conversation. He raised his voice. “Mrs. B., could I take him some bread and cheddar?”

  “Of course you can, Thomas,” the middle-aged woman replied. “If you can take it without spillin’, I’ll send a crock of stew along for him as well.”

  “I THINK WE’D better go to Charing Cross and deliver the food first,” Tiki said as they walked down Brook Street and turned onto Regent. The sky overhead was gray, but the rain had stopped and a few spears of light shot through the clouds. It was only a thirty minute walk from Grosvenor Square to Charing Cross and the exercise was a welcome relief from the questions that churned relentlessly in her mind. What was Donegal plotting? What was Larkin plotting? Was it really possible she was Finvarra’s heir? Would a stone roar if she touched it?

  Clara skipped along beside Tiki, holding her hand, Doggie clutched in the other. She wore a pink dress that reached her knees and she reminded Tiki of a little spring flower. “Let’s ask ol’ Potts for a new story today.”

  Tiki grinned down at the little girl. “Yes, I thought I’d buy a new book as a gift for Rieker, since he’s allowed us to stay in his home for now.”

  “Do you think Potts will give him another story about pick-pockets?” Toots asked, as he ran back and forth, trying to keep a wheel balanced with a stick. Mr. Potts had recommended the story, Oliver Twist, to Rieker last time he’d visited the shop.

  Fiona walked next to Tiki, carrying the bag of food for Johnny. “Do you have money to pay for a book?” she asked. Her hair was a tangle of soft waves around her face and she wore a blue hat with a ruffle on the side that tied under her chin. She looked every inch a middle-class girl and not someone who had been picking pockets to survive just a few months ago.

  “I have the money the Queen gave me, for,” Tiki assumed a proper voice, “‘assisting in the return of an article of importance to the monarchy.’” She laughed. “I suspect Rieker was the one who suggested they “reward” me but I was happy to take it. We shouldn’t have to pick a pocket ever again.”

  “Amen to that,” Fiona said, “but I have to admit, there’s times when I miss wearing boys’ trousers. They’re just so much easier to get around in.”

  “I know.” Tiki replied. “There are times when I miss being invisible. When we dressed in our rags, everyone looked through us, like we weren’t even there. Now people smile and nod, especially men. It’s exhausting sometimes.”

  “It’s ‘cause yer pretty, Teek,” Clara piped up. “That’s why they stare at you.”

  Tiki laughed and squeezed the little girl’s hand. “Your ears are working pretty well today, Miss. Did Mrs. Bosworth clean out all the potatoes in them?”

  Clara burst into giggles. “I haven’t got potatoes in my ears.” She pointed her little hand. “Toots does.”

  WHEN THEY REACHED Charing Cross Tiki sent Toots into the abandoned clockmaker’s shop to see if Johnny was there. Before he returned a familiar voice spoke from behind them.

  “You’re looking as beautiful as a spring day, Miss Fiona.” For a second Tiki was reminded of when Rieker used to sneak up on her while she sat in this same bench. The girls turned to face Johnny. He swept his cap off his head, pulled a rose out of it and presented it to Fiona with a flourish. “A rose for the lovely lady.”

  Fiona’s cheeks turned pink but she accepted the flower with a pleased smile. “Thank you.”

  “Did you nick that from Mr. Colpitts?” Clara asked in her high voice. “It’s got the tag wot he puts on his flowers.”

  “Hush, Clara,” Fiona said. She held the bag out. “We brought you something, too.”

  Two dimples appeared in Johnny’s cheeks as he smiled, giving him a charming air. “For me?” He took the bag and peeked in. “Slaved over the stove all day, did you?”

  Fiona giggled, her cheeks even rosier.

  Tiki smiled as she stood up. “Clara and I are going over to the bookstore. Fi, can you sit with Johnny while he eats and wait for Toots? He should be back any time.”

  Fiona cast a shy, sideways glance at Johnny, who was already moving around the bench to take Tiki’s seat.

  “Brilliant idea!” he said with gusto, reaching for the bag from Fiona.

  Fi playfully slapped at Johnny’s hands. “Hold on, let me get it out before you spill everything.”

  “Come along, then.” Tiki said to Clara. “We’re not needed here.” Slipping her hand into Tiki’s, Clara skipped along as they walked the short distance to the bookstore. The bell above the door jingled as they entered.

  “Hallo Mr. Potts,” Tiki called. After a moment, the old man shuffled out from between the stacks.

  “Well, if it ain’t Tiki and the littl’un.” A smile wreathed his face. “I recognized you as a girl this time.” He braced his hand on his desk as he sank down onto his stool, his hips cracking with the movement.

  Tiki patted the man’s gnarled hand. “How have you been?”

  The old man shrugged his bony shoulders. “People comin’, people goin’. I miss havin’ yer come pester me for books.” He gave her a wobbly smile.

  “Well, I’m here to make a purchase today. A gift for a friend of mine.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you still visitin’ with Oliver Twist?”

  Tiki blinked in surprise. “Well yes, actually, that’s who the gift is for. What do you recommend this time?”

  Mr. Potts pushed off from his stool and moved slowly into the interior of the store.

  Tiki raised her eyebrows at Clara who gave an innocent shrug in return, her vivid blue eyes round with curiosity.

  A moment later Mr. Potts returned with a thick volume. “’ere yer go.” He placed the heavy book into Tiki’s hands. “It’s been around for awhile. Written by a French chap.”

  “That’s a fat book,” Clara said. “Has it got faeries in it?”

  “The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” Tiki read out loud. “I’ve not heard of this one.”

&nb
sp; “’Bout a bloke with more than one identity.” Mr. Potts quirked a gray eyebrow at Tiki. “Your friend should like it. I’ll sell it to you half off today.”

  Tiki bit back a laugh and handed him a silver shilling. Rieker would also enjoy the man’s sharp wit, she was sure.

  “An for you,” he tweaked Clara’s nose, “I’ve got a book over here with a type of faerie in it.” He shuffled to a different section of the store and brought back a thin book. “This is called The Field of Boliauns. ‘Bout a little chap called a leprechaun. Tricky sort, that.” He slid the book into Clara’s hands and waved away Tiki’s offer to pay. “You hold onto them coins so you stay outta trouble.”

  They visited for a bit longer and then promising to return soon, Tiki and Clara held hands as they headed back into the station to find Fiona and Toots. There were fewer trains in Charing Cross than King’s Cross and the station wasn’t as busy. Tiki couldn’t help but glance at every traveler they passed and wonder if Larkin was disguised in a glamour somewhere nearby watching them.

  But instead of Larkin, her eyes fell on a different familiar face. It was the young man who had tipped his hat at her when she and Fiona had walked to see Mr. Potts a few days ago—she was sure of it. His suit was neat and he wore a hat on his head like a gentleman. His blond hair was a bit longer than most, making him easy to recognize, but there was the same nagging sense of familiarity.

  He leaned against a storefront corner, watching her, his arms crossed in a relaxed, slightly arrogant fashion, one side of his mouth turned in an appreciative grin. Suddenly Clara tugged on Tiki’s hand and pointed at the young man. “Look, Tiki—it’s Dain!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tiki’s knees went weak. “Dain?” she echoed softly. “The Dain who brought Toots home?”