by D. L. Boyles
“Of an old man and his wicked lover? I think not.”
“It is true I am older than you likely realize—but you know what I am. No one would suspect me to be much older than you.”
She knew exactly what he was. Had known it from the moment he’d been set loose upon her trail all those years ago. That day when Merriweather promised that she’d return to the cottage to help her ‘escape,’ she had known that there would be no one coming to help. When he’d shown up, she suspected what he was and why he was there, what he intended to do. What she didn’t know was what he intended to do now.
“You’ve lowered your weapon, good sir. Is it because you do not think I can win or because you are doubting your chances?” He chuckled again, the sound an irritation and a gratification all at once. She gritted her teeth and cursed herself a fool once more.
“I should think you would recognize the weapon as your own,” he told her. “Is it better, I wonder, to die at one’s own hand or at the sting of one’s own blade?”
“Do not plague me with riddles or your endless failures at flattery. Make your move and I shall make mine.”
She felt his body stiffen behind her and she braced herself, ready to strike if need be. Yet, he stood still, the grip of his hand softening while remaining firm.
“You could have made your own move by now, little rabbit,” The Hunter cooed, “yet you wait to see what I will do. For two people destined to kill each other, we have a bad habit of not doing so.”
Then, to her utter surprise, he was gone. The warmth of him disappeared from behind her and the only proof he’d been there, the clanking of her father’s gift as it fell to the dirty street at her feet. She stepped forward, looking around and studying the shadows before bending to pick it up. Its handle was still warm from where The Hunter had been holding it, making her hands tingle with an unfamiliar sensation as she slid it into the empty sheath in her boot. It felt good to have it with her once more, but there was a new energy to it that did not feel familiar. There was no time to wonder about it, though, so she darted to the end of the alley and into the street.
Any headway she’d made on the stable man, she had lost. He was likely already returned to his room for the night and she could not follow him there. The castle stables were inside the castle walls and though she’d managed it once, she’d not tempt fate and try it twice.
∞∞∞
The Hunter slipped through the shadows, edging his way into the courtyard. His delay with the girl—the woman, he corrected himself again—had been a distraction, albeit a pleasant one. Why hadn’t he killed her? He knew why he hadn’t done so all those years ago, but now? Now, he supposed there was no real reason to. The evil queen believed her dead and despite her showing up in the castle, she did not seem intent on being discovered. Would he eventually have to kill her to keep her from revealing that he had failed to uphold his bargain with the queen? He worried he may have to do so, and that worry caused him more distress than anything else. There was no room in his life to worry over some foolish woman who continued to baffle and intrigue him. No. It was impossible for him to care. If the time came and necessity dictated it, he would kill her.
Inside the stables, no one was about, all tucked away in their rooms for the night. Above him, he could hear the creaking of footsteps as someone moved about their room. Yet no one lurked in the stables or the hallways. Upstairs, he pushed open the door and discovered his prey in the midst of sleep already. This would be too easy.
Standing over the man’s bed, he struck, rendering the poor fool unconscious. He bound him up inside his own quilt as though he were a sack of laundry and silently left the room. As he headed down the stairs, he heard a man’s snore loudly echo through the building, met by an angry shout and a loud bang before things quieted down once more. No one suspected a thing as he left the stables with his prey, leaving behind a fabricated note that Merriweather insisted be left. The Hunter had no idea what it said, but he could surmise any number of eloquent farewells or apologies might be included. He allowed himself to wonder, momentarily, what it was the stable boy had done to earn his queen’s disfavor but reminded himself again of the folly in such thoughts.
The guard, Captain Florian, met him at the designated entrance, allowing The Hunter easy access to the castle. Inside, he crept through the servants’ stairway up to the queen’s private chambers. Her door was open, a golden light spilling into the hallway. Merriweather sat on a stool, staring out the door, watching for him. When he stepped into view, his bundle slung easily over his shoulder, the light fairie stood, a stoic look on her face. She rarely looked pleased when they had dealings with one another, which made him curious as to her loyalty regarding the queen.
“No one saw you?” she asked.
“No one other than the guard you appointed.”
Merriweather nodded. “You realize, of course, that he cannot be allowed to remain a witness.”
He raised an eyebrow, though the gesture could not be seen by the old woman. “You arranged for the guard to be there and now you wish me to dispatch him? I could have managed well enough on my own; alleviating the need for the man’s demise.”
The light fairie curled a lip in disgust at him. “It is not for you to question your assignments but to fulfill them as requested.”
The Hunter acquiesced with a bow, and leaving the stable boy crumpled in a heap on the floor at Merriweather’s feet, hurried back downstairs.
He regretted it when the guard swung open the door and nodded to him with a smile. Whether he’d known The Hunter’s true mission or not, the man had thought he was part of something, that he’d been included and trusted to serve his queen. When The Hunter struck out at him, he was completely surprised. It was too late when he was well aware of his mistake. The queen of Wessix was not one to befriend nor was she one to be trusted. No one should want to be part of anything she concocted. The Hunter worried if he’d made the same mistake as this guard. Someday, his fate might be the same.
∞∞∞
Audora took her time getting dressed. She was in no hurry to be greeted by anyone. She had very few in the way of friends and just yesterday had managed to isolate herself from them both. Because, whether she realized it or not, Peter and Florian had been the closest and truest friends she’d ever known.
In the hallway, Captain Florian was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t so unusual, she supposed, since yesterday he’d still been in the barracks when she went looking for him. However, that had been yesterday when she was up early. Today, Audora slept in well past sunrise and took her sweet time getting ready. Judging by the overpowering scent of rose water lingering in the hallway, Sloane had already left her room, which made Audora curious about the absence of Florian.
At the end of the hall, three guards greeted her. “Princess Audora, we were just coming to retrieve you. Your mother wishes to see you.”
Audora followed the guards downstairs to the large throne room. There were always people flitting about in the throne room, most of whom were there to greet her mother and ooo and ahhh over her latest fashion statements. With the way her mother went on and on about her dresses and her hair, her jewelry and shoes, Audora wondered why she, herself, never found an interest in those things. It wasn’t as though her father had taught her to enjoy something else in lieu of the finer things her mother enjoyed. No, she was mostly a loner, she realized, which only solidified the regret she felt at pushing Peter and Florian away so easily. Somehow, she was going to need to make it up to them, earn their trust and reestablish her friendships with them.
This morning, the throne room was abuzz with frantic activity. There were women fanning themselves and another who had swooned, receiving the fanning of her nearby friends. Men gathered, harsh whispers and outrage evident on their faces. When they saw her, the people quieted but their expressions did not soften.
“Oh, Audora!” Her mother waved to her, motioning for her to hurry to the dais where both her parents sat. “
My sweets, we have some terrible news.” Audora glanced around the room that suddenly became eerily silent. A sick feeling twisted in her gut and she knew something was wrong long before her mother spoke. “It seems you will need a new guard. It is just awful the way we cannot keep guards for you, what with Eric having to be fired and now this. Honestly, it is so difficult to find reliable help these days.”
“Captain Florian will no longer be my guard? Has he been fired?” she asked.
“Fired? Heavens no, Audora. I thought he was doing a relatively decent job, so why would you think I’d fire him?” Her mother’s words began in a sing-song-y way, but by the end, the queen was eyeing Audora with speculation, a hint of something that sounded suspiciously like a challenge. Did no one else in the room pick up on the strange tone to her mother’s statement? Audora glanced around and caught a glimpse of Sloane standing just off to her right. Not that her lady in waiting was a personal friend of hers, but Audora was surprised at the hatred blaring through her blood-shot eyes. She’d never seen either one of those expressions on Sloane before. “Poor Audora. I’m sure we can find you a new guard. Do not worry.”
“What happened to Captain Florian? I don’t want a new guard.”
“My dear, I agree,” her father said. “Someone murdered the man and now you will have to make do without one.”
The blood drained from her so quickly that she stumbled. “What? What did you say, Father?”
“Do not make your father repeat himself, dear. There is nothing wrong with your hearing.” Her mother chided her with a ridiculous smile on her face. How was she smiling right now?
“Captain Florian is dead?”
Her mother huffed at her. “Audora, it is rude to pretend you cannot hear.”
Audora wanted to shout at her mother, tell her to shut her mouth, demand she show some remorse. Instead, she curtsied and fled from the room. While she did not look back, as she rounded the corner into the hallway, she could have sworn she saw her mother smile.
∞∞∞
“Peter! Peter!” Audora fled the castle for the stables. No one tried to stop her though a few stopped themselves to stare. “Peter!” she shouted again, racing through the stables, peering into each stall as she went. The older stable hand stepped into view.
“Tis terrible bi’ness, isn’t it, Princess Audora? I’m so sorry ‘bout Captain Florian. Just terrible news.”
“I need to see Peter,” she told him in a panic. “Where is he?”
“Same as I told ‘is sister, Princess, he’s not shown up for work this morning. Gave ‘im the evenin’ off and now he’s likely found ‘imself a bed wi’ a warm body since he never returned to ‘is own.”
She barely acknowledged what the old man said, charging up the stairs as quickly as her feet could carry her. Without knocking, she barged into his room, banging the door against the wall. “Peter!” Audora glanced all around the room and, sure enough, Peter’s bed was still made. He could have made it this morning, she told herself. Just as she was about to dash back out the door in search of her friend, she spotted an envelope on his desk. If it had not had her name scrolled across it, she would not have noticed it at all.
There were footsteps on the stairs that thudded heavily with her heart as she tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter.
My dearest Audora,
Hearing you tell Captain Florian you might love him was too much for me to bear. I went to speak with him and things got out of hand. I’m sorry, Audora, for the pain my actions have caused and if your losing him means your curse will never be lifted. I’ve left; don’t try to find me. I have gone to The Wilds where no one will bother trying to track down a murderer and where I hope I can find a fresh start. Go on without me, Audora. I am not your true love, but I hope you find him one day.
Your friend always,
Peter
Guards burst into the room just as she was finished reading. Her heart may have stopped beating, but she couldn’t be sure. There was a pounding in her ears that might have been her heart, or it might have been the heavy footfalls of the soldiers suddenly crammed into the tiny space that was Peter’s room. Something crashed to the floor but she wasn’t sure what. Hands tugged her out of the room, snatching the letter from her and hauling her out into the bright daylight. It could have been nighttime for all she saw; everything was a blur. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her head and her vision, but the world drowned beneath her tears. Something soft met her form as she closed her eyes to the pain, and with the world, she drowned in it all, a sorrow so heavy in her soul she doubted she’d ever resurface.
∞∞∞
The city surrounding the castle was vast and busy. Nearer the castle walls, homes dotted the streets, grand buildings erected for those of the upper class. As such, gardens dotted the streets and trees ran in well-manicured rows on either side. During the day, they provided shade to the delicate ladies who strolled along them but as the sun lowered in the sky, they provided the perfect shadows for someone like her to keep hidden. Not that it mattered if anyone saw her, but Snow had grown accustomed to keeping a low profile. Out of habit, she stalked the shadows, trying to keep the self-recrimination to a minimum.
Her attempts to accomplish her plan had been waylaid by The Hunter each time. There was no doubt he had hindered her progress in the castle, but she could only speculate that he had something to do with the disappearance of the stable man. A public carriage stopped on the corner and she hurried to the driver. “Could you convey me to Westridge, please?” The man stepped down to help her inside then secured the door. She did not open the curtains to look out at the city as they clopped along the stone roads. There was nothing she wanted to look at as they moved away from the castle and the upper-class neighborhoods. Instead, she pondered what could have happened with Peter.
She had planned to give him a purse full of gravi and help him make his dreams come true—and Princess Audora’s. After many years of hard work, she had saved up plenty of money to enact such a plan, and what she hadn’t been able to earn, she had taken from those who had enough so as not to miss it. Yet, all of that saving and planning and thieving had all gone to waste. A terrible, awful waste that made her heart flutter with regret. Bear begged her not to return to Wessix, had urged her to forget her desire for revenge. Had she listened? No. And what did it all gain her? Nothing. She’d not been able to reach the queen’s rooms, her attempts at befriending Princess Audora had been waylaid, and now when she had endeavored to help Peter and in turn, help Audora, that, too, had gone awry.
Three plans. She had three plans, and one after the other erupted into smoke. Feeling defeated and disappointed, she exited the carriage and after well-mannered thanks, stood there to watch as it faded away down the street. She was not actually staying at the Westridge, the city’s most expensive hotel, nor was there any reason for such pretenses. It was simply the most notable landmark for a lady to be dropped off at. And tonight, she was dressed as a lady. A lady who had wanted to speak with the stable boy—her supposed brother.
She’d caused quite the stir amongst the guards and stable masters alike, going to the stables twice today. They’d seen her face and now thought her to be Peter’s sister, so there was no chance of making an appearance as anyone else. And the sister of a stable boy would never be allowed to attend a ball or other royal party where she might gain access to Princess Audora. Snow was now known as the sister of the stable boy turned murderer, a fugitive. If she weren’t careful, she’d find herself taken in for questioning by the guards and that would only end one way—with her death—even if they didn’t discover her true identity. No, it was time to get out of Wessix. It pained her to admit it, but she’d met her defeat.
Walking aimlessly through the city, she wound her way through, relieved on some level for being able to do so without hiding beneath a hood. If Merriweather did not recognize her, she doubted anyone else would. Sure enough, as she walked and walked, not a single person looked at her
with a trace of recognition. It shouldn’t have surprised or disappointed her in any way, but it did. She strolled along through one of the city’s massive parks, stopping only for a briefly nostalgic moment near a crumbling fountain before continuing on to the far side of the city. There, she ignored the curious stares of the less fortunate folks and continued until she reached the city’s gates.
“Are you sure you wish to go out there alone, miss?” the gate guard asked, his companion looking at her with a worried expression. “It will be fully dark soon.”
“Thank you for your concern, Sergeant, but I am meeting someone just beyond the ridge. All will be well, I assure you.”
Neither guard looked convinced, but they did not stop her.
By the time she reached the ridge she’d spoken of, the sun had begun to set. Several carts wheeled past towards the small village just down the street, while others trotted on their horses, bound in the opposite direction for the city gates, hoping to arrive before the night was fully upon them. The guards were much more thorough in their inspections when it was dark and were known to confiscate anything from whiskey to weapons and to ask for ‘gratitude gifts’ of anyone who might want to gain access after dark. She shook her head. What a sad state Wessix had become. Though, to be fair, it was well on its way to crumbling when she’d been here last.
Her campsite was well away from the road, but she continued to be relieved whenever she came upon it and found her horse where she’d left her and none of her cookware stolen. By the time she reached it, it was well beyond dark and only her superior eyesight allowed her to make the nighttime trek safely.
Just before she reached her makeshift home, she sensed movement and, a moment later, felt a familiar warmth spreading in her belly, a slight tug pulling at her heart. Her eyes scanned her surroundings but she didn’t see him. “I know you’re there. If you’ve come to kill me, you’ve succeeded in finding the perfect opportunity.”