Fiction: The Library of Eristat / The Seven Suitors, Chapter 9
A serialized mystery in a fantasy setting.
Author’s note: The Seven Suitors is a novel-length mystery in a fantasy setting I’ll be serializing here. It’s also the follow-up to the Library of Eristat story you may have read. Chapter One can be found here, the previous chapter can be found here.
Ten months ago
“So who’s the favorite at this point?”
“I’m sure they all would say themselves.” Rowena sighed, and kicked at some pebbles on the ground, realizing how little she cared for discussing what seemed destined to be her main contribution to posterity—choosing a husband. It would probably be enough to get her a line in a history book someday. Maybe even a second line, if she did her duty and allowed herself to be bred like some prize heifer, popping out children for long enough to produce a male heir. Doing the world a favor to ensure that no one had to worry about the risk of a woman ending up in charge of something, for even a month.
Cedric laughed a little as he followed her through the gardens, shaking his head. “Some of them already are talking. You must know Alexander. Every time I see him he tries to convince me that you’re positively smitten with him.”
“Probably trying to sell it to himself.” Rowena smiled, holding back the urge to say more and expound on her opinion of the man’s flaws. As straightforward as she felt that she could be with Cedric, there was no need to set him against men he might be forced to deal with directly one day. “I wish you could see how hard they all try. How different it feels like they must be around me.”
“They can keep their secrets, we have ours.” Cedric mused to himself, grabbing an apple from a tree as he passed. “They’re all going to lose, you’re going to pick no one. I should really find out if someone out there is betting on this, fortunes have been made with less.”
“Well, despite your inside source, I wouldn’t put down anything you can’t lose—” Rowena winced a little as she said it. “I can’t promise it will be no one.”
Cedric paused in his steps, carefully avoiding stepping any of the flowerbeds around him as he turned back to look at her. “Can I assume that you’re joking?”
“If I have to either pick someone now, or wait until years later when the gossip becomes that I’m a crazy spinstress who will never bear anyone children—” Rowena sighed and turned back to Cedric. “My options would be substantially better if I pick from the men I can attract now. This is still the last thing I want. But there are more lives than mine at stake. I would be choosing who marries our country as much as I would be choosing who marries myself.”
Cedric stared at her, like some part of him wasn’t comprehending what she was saying. “But that could still be years away if you want it to be.”
“I know.” Rowena sighed. “I go back and forth on it—sometimes I wonder if I would be able lead our house even if the laws allowed it. But the responsibility for this choice falls on me. And the longer I wait, the worse the outcome could be when I make it.”
Rowena stood up from tracing the flowers of a bush to find Cedric still fixed in the same spot. Cedric cleared his throat and turned away from her. “And with that, I should go—”
“Come on, Cedric. Out with it” Rowena sighed to herself. She knew he would have to have some opinion on the subject, and she shouldn’t be too thin-skinned to hear it.
Cedric tried to smile. “Nothing to really say at the moment. I…"
“Come on, Cedric.” Rowena looked at him, a little impatiently and resigned. “I want to hear what you think.”
“I really don’t think you do.” Cedric spoke the words softly, but with no threat in his voice, just a tinge of sadness that made her feel worse somehow.
Rowena looked at him, feeling a moment of regret as she tried to figure out what she must have said wrong to offend one of the few friends she had. A man who always respected her wishes and never bothered her when she didn’t want to be bothered. “Please, I’d like to understand.”
Cedric looked at her in what looked like disbelief. “If you want to know so badly, then I am a little hurt, even a little offended that you would be considering marrying someone and not think I mattered in that conversation.”
“Cedric.” Rowena sighed and shook her head. Gods, there was no one she could talk to about anything that really mattered. Everyone was caught in the web of her life, even the thought of marriage entering her head was enough to have it ripple out and affect the people around her. “I’m not exactly taking suitors yet—”
“But there is a chance that you will.” Cedric took a look back at her. “And if you do not think highly enough of me to consider me as an option even for the most political of reasons, then I am not sure why we are friends.”
“Cedric.” Rowena repeated the word, looking at him and feeling a little hurt herself. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You don’t have to throw away your life to save me. I know you want to marry for love.”
Cedric looked at her, blinking his eyes as though he was trying to clear them. “Then I do owe you an apology. I’m sorry, I assumed the worst of your motives. I thought you knew.”
Rowena felt something catch in her throat, her mind feeling a sense of whiplash as she finally caught up to understanding why he was acting the way he did. “How would I—”
“Rowena, you are the smartest person I know.” Cedric sighed as he spoke. “I just assumed you wouldn’t notice me coming to see you every chance I could and not know. And since you didn’t say anything, and since you weren’t planning to pick anyone…” Cedric’s voice trailed off. “I thought it mattered to you to keep this, as well.”
Cedric looked at her for a moment, before drawing himself up and walking away, leaving Rowena by herself to feel a growing sickness in her stomach. It was like she had some contaminating presence on everyone she encountered, twisting their lives around her even if they didn’t want it. Even Cedric, of all people, the boy who had been too shy to talk to her, that she had to draw out of his shell to even learn his name. Maybe it was the draw of the power she stood to hand over. Or maybe the opportunistic young men complimenting her appearance at every function weren’t lying about everything they said.
It’s not like Cedric was hard on the eyes himself, but…Rowena felt her eyes welling up, realizing how much this was revealing about how little she wanted to end her effective liberty at all, now that the option felt more real. None of this was fair. She shouldn't have to feel responsible for his feelings, responsible for the fears of what could happen if she failed to choose or chose too late, blackmailed into sacrificing what could have been her life for everyone else.
Her father was fast asleep when she turned in for bed, so she scribed a quick note and slid it under his door. Five words.
“The princess will remain single.”
Now
Waking up had definitely been a mistake. A dull ache filled Semote’s head as he leaned forward, trying to figure out where he was. He had ended up in his room at the castle somehow. A glass of water was resting on a table next to his bed. He took a sip, forced himself to swallow, then laid back down. This seemed like a really good day to sleep through. As his body continued to reject the idea of leaving his bed, he couldn’t imagine anyone else feeling worse than him right now.
Except for Alexander. Semote’s eyes snapped open as he remembered the events of last night, Alexander’s apparent poisoning and his own actions to save him. A number of questions ran through his head in quick succession. What had happened after he passed out? Was Alexander all right? Were they any closer to catching the killer?
The pain shooting through his head turned his focus back inward, as Semote remembered he still needed to work through what had happened to him. He knew enough to recognize the signs of a hangover—the probable outcome of last night’s overindulgence. He just didn’t feel like he had drunk nearly enough to lose consciousness like that, which could suggest foul play, being poisoned or drugged. But he had admittedly never tested his own tolerance to alcohol this far. There had to be a way to break this down with data somehow…
Semote grit his teeth, realizing the problem he had. Most of what he knew about the world, he admittedly knew from books, his mother had sometimes joked that the Library was his other parent. Searching his memory, it was possible that no author in the entirety of written fiction had ever before had their main character pass out under suspicious circumstances, and have it amount to nothing because they'd had simply a little too much to drink.
But it appeared that was precisely what happened to him. He had been incapacitated but undisturbed, in a complete anticlimax from the drama of last night; if someone had wished to act against him, nothing whatsoever seemed to have come of it. The logic was doing serious damage to Semote’s desire to see himself as the protagonist of his own life. Apparently, despite being the kind of person prepared to act as though the world revolved him, and travel the world risking his life for a chance at translating a book that might make him the sole custodian of the mysteries of reality, the universe was considerably more indifferent to him than that. Despite how seriously Semote tried to take himself, it looked like he was just another inexperienced drinker not knowing his own limits, with no one having it in for him other than himself. Alexander should have been so lucky. Even as Semote closed his eyes and tried to will himself back to sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder if the other man had even made it through the night.
In the end, curiosity won out over exhaustion. Semote forced himself to sit up, and went through the motions of getting dressed and ready. Still bleary-eyed, he was surprised to find Skye on the other side of his door upon opening it.
“Ah. You’re back with us. Rowena was wanting to see you.”
“Same here.” Semote mumbled, squinting his eyes at the light framing Skye’s silhouette. Had it always been this bright in the hall?
“Come along now. You missed an exciting night. You’ll hear all about it shortly.” Skye beckoned him down the hall.
Semote followed at a plodding pace. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t feeling up to being royally received, there were quite a few thoughts he wanted to have straight before he spoke with Rowena. And a few questions. One of which he might be able to resolve right now.
“Last night, did you ask to sit next to Wesley for any particular reason?”
Skye looked back at him a little surprised. “I suppose so. We ran into each other earlier and said he wanted a chance to talk, I thought it was as good of a time as any.”
Semote paused for a moment, then spoke quietly. “Was there anything of importance you discussed? Did you get the sense that he was trying to learn something from you, or influence your opinion on something so it reached the princess?”
Skye frowned, and she shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was just small talk, all the usual gossip about our whole situation. I’m not going around blabbing Rowena’s secrets or yours if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Of course not.” Semote clarified quickly. “I just thought I’d ask.”
“Just thought I’d answer.” Skye replied lightly, finally coming to a halt. “Here you are then. Try to look like you’ve sobered up.”
Rowena was sitting down in a chair in the library, with her eyes closed. She looked like she’d gotten barely any sleep. She opened one eye to look at Semote, and gestured for him to take a nearby chair. Skye closed the door behind the two of them.
“Alexander is fine. He’s resting. We have a doctor looking after him. He’ll likely be out of commission for a while. You should go see him when he’s up. I expect he’ll want to thank you.”
Semote shook his head. “So long as he doesn’t know I’m the reason he’s here in the first place.”
Rowena sighed and looked back at him. “He’s fine. He’ll live. You prevented another tragedy. And now we need to focus on what’s ahead of us.”
“Did we learn anything to indicate who is responsible?”
“After you left us, we did another search of the castle. Kept us up for most of the night. There was no sign of any poison. Or the murder weapon.”
Semote thought back to his conversations with Finn, about the visit to the apothecary. “Did you find anything on Wesley?”
Rowena looked impressed. “We did, actually. A small bottle of medicine.”
“You’re sure that it was medicine?”
“I asked him that, and he drank the remainder of it in front of me. He said he’d felt sick a few days ago and didn’t want to be a burden, so he purchased something for it. I thought you’d ask, you can see it for yourself if you like.”
Rowena reached under her chair, and handed over a small yellow bottle. Semote opened the stopper. There was still a tiny amount of liquid inside. He sniffed at it, but didn’t detect the odor he was hoping for based on Alexander's symptoms. If hope was really the right word to use in a circumstance like this.
“It’s not poison.”
“I figured as much when Wesley woke up alive this morning.” Rowena set the bottle back down. “You just missed him, in fact. He’s joined the rest of our suspects outside. I have some guards keeping an eye on all of them. We were going to hold a competition today, some sword-fighting, archery...a contrast to yesterday’s cerebral exercise.” Rowena gave Semote a deliberate look. “I took the liberty of saying you weren’t feeling well enough to participate. I hope you aren’t too offended, I think your reputation can survive it.”
“Probably for the best.” Semote remarked. They both sat in silence for a moment. “Does this contest really mean anything at this point?”
Rowena sighed and buried her head in her hands. “No, of course not. But I have to make it look like I’m still trying. I’d much rather give up and tell them all to leave me, and each other, alone.”
That surprised Semote. “Even the innocent ones?”
“If I can’t tell the difference, then yes. I don’t know how much of an idiot the killer must think I am. First, Valerian. And now he targets Alexander, of all people. I’m not about to watch our murderer kill off his competition and then marry him just because there’s no one else left. I’d rather lose everything and be done with it, whatever the consequences.”
Semote frowned. “That’s unfortunate.”
“You think differently?” Rowena looked back at him with a sad smile. “Didn’t you start out by saying I’d be better off leaving all this behind, starting a new life somewhere like Eristat?”
“Only if it’s what you want.” Semote sighed. “I can’t disagree that could end up being the best choice for you. I’m saying it’s unfortunate.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’m beginning to worry that you giving up could be what the killer wants.”
Rowena sighed again. “Now that’s truly depressing. And all I want is what my parents had. Something that may be impossible. I’ve spent all this time looking for a man who can live up to my father.”
“Lucky for you.”
The words sounded more bitter to his ears than he had intended. Rowena looked back at him with a touch of sympathy. “What is your family like?”
“My mother runs our Library. You really should visit it if you ever have the chance. It’s one of the wonders of the world, mostly thanks to her.” And a few lords might have had something to do with it.
“And your father?”
“I can’t really say.” Semote found himself wishing for an excuse to change the subject. “I never met him.”
Rowena looked at him with a bit of sadness in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I lost my mother when I was very young, but I cherish what I can remember of her.”
Semote felt a tightness in his chest, realizing he felt the need to say something. “There’s nothing to cherish in my case. What little I do know suggests he didn’t behave honorably.”
“Then I’m sorry for that as well.” Rowena looked like she was trying to catch his eyes, which Semote realized had come to rest on the floor, as the tightness in his chest showed no sign of abetting. “We’re going to get through this, you know.”
Semote felt himself chuckle without knowing why. Rowena was smiling at him for some reason, and he felt himself smile back. Or maybe he had been the one to smile first. “How can you say that?”
“Easy, I’m lying.” Rowena took a deep breath and stood up. “Why should everyone else be the only ones who get to do it.”
Semote let out a breath and stood up as well, feeling a little less tense than he had started the morning. “I should still get back to the others, see what else I can learn.”
“One more thing.” Rowena gave him a look. “We have another visitor.”
Semote looked back, a little puzzled. “Another would-be suitor? I would have thought you would have turned him away.”
“He’s not...and I don’t really have a choice.” Rowena sighed, and shook her head. “You’ll see for yourself.”
The new arrival was an intimidating sight. Tall, heavily muscled, and with a thick blade at his side. Semote was surprised to see him carrying it openly, he would have thought decorum prohibited it.
“You must be Silas. I believe I’ve met the others.” The other man reached to shake his hand, gripping it firmly.
“Yes. And you are?”
“No one of consequence.” The other man seemed to be enjoying his confusion. “But you can call me Hector.”
“How are you settling in?”
“Fine, despite the chilly reception on all fronts.”
That took Semote by surprise. “And here I thought Lithos was known for its hospitality.”
Hector shrugged. “I can’t say I blame them. It’s hard to warm up to a man who’s here to kill one of your guests. Even less so if you think he might be here to kill you.”
Semote reflexively took a step back, as his heart began to race.
Hector let out a deep resonant laugh. “You can relax. The princess has gone out of her way to assure me of your innocence. I’m aware that you and Alexander the indisposed were accounted for at the time of Valerian’s death.”
“You’re here to avenge Valerian?”
Hector nodded. “I am. I’m an enforcer for his house. It’s a sacred responsibility that has gone unfulfilled for some time. But it exists for a reason. As the events of last night have no doubt confirmed in everyone’s minds. Someone has forgotten the rules we live by.”
Something about the man’s attitude bothered Semote. Nothing about this was making him feel any better about the situation. “How do you intend to proceed?”
“There are only so many suspects. I plan to make a careful study of each. Even if all signs do point to the other foreign guest.”
“Darius? I don’t think he could have done it.”
“That’s very charitable of you to say.”
“I was with him before dinner last night, he couldn’t have poisoned anyone.”
Hector looked back at him dispassionately. “Really. When the house of Roth comes looking for justice, you should be sure to tell them that. I’m sure they’ll find it extremely interesting. But I’m here to avenge Valerian’s murder. I’m not going to burden myself beyond that.”
Semote was beginning to get frustrated with the other man’s indifference. “But these crimes can’t all be unrelated. Do you not care that you might be going after an innocent man?”
Hector smiled at him. “You really are new here, aren’t you? Of course a guilty party is always to be preferred. But some form of justice is better than none. A dead body shows we’re serious about defending our honor. And whoever Darius’s relatives are that would let him wander off here by himself, they’re the least likely to be able to dispute our claims. Or retaliate.”
Semote glared at the other man in an attempt to intimidate him, which he was finding difficult. “Don’t do anything rash. If you pursue the wrong man, you’ll only make things worse.”
Hector laughed again. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning on interfering in your little game of love. I intend to take my time, see what else surfaces. But as I see it, I’m doing you a favor. The worst that can happen is there’s one less man standing in your way.”
The stage was still in ruins thanks to his earlier efforts. Semote felt a twinge of guilt as he passed by, realizing that no one had even bothered to clean up the mess yet. The unruly pile of boards were cracked and splintered all the way through, probably useless for anything but firewood at this point. He knew Rowena wouldn’t think to charge him for the costs of rebuilding, although her future husband might prefer to deduct it from his eventual salary once he controlled their finances. All the more reason to see that she chose well. Or to ensure he got paid in advance.
Semote’s thoughts drifted back to the prospect of his payday for the first time since he had visited the castle's library. He had still not bothered to ask about the eventual sum. The rapidly deteriorating situation he had found himself in seemed so impossible to resolve that it felt crass to even bring up the topic of what his help was worth. Money was a means to an end, capable of providing a security he could have already had for less risk. But that book from her library with more of the key to the Tenebrous Codex might change his life. For the second time, even.
Semote reached a clearing that must have been set up for their purposes today, seemingly organized by where the different social groups were intended to dwell. At the far end, Skye was sitting down with an empty chair beside her, presumably waiting for Rowena to arrive. To Semote’s left, a crowd had gathered to see the latest demonstration of talent. To his right, a table with a selection of swords and bows—the former looked as though they had blunted tips, while the suggested use of the latter was indicated by a row of targets off in the distance. And standing behind those tables, the five other alive and healthy members of Rowena’s male entourage appeared to be getting ready.
Cedric waved at him as he approached. “I’m glad to see you’re up. Are you going to be able to join us today after all?”
“I don’t think so.” Semote realized that both his words and pace were more sluggish than usual, which hopefully served to drive home his point. “I doubt I’d be able to make much of a showing of myself. You’ll have to carry on without me.”
Cedric’s smile dropped slightly. Semote wasn’t sure if the other man was relieved or disappointed to confirm he’d be dealing with one less competitor today. “Of course. I imagine you have less to prove than the rest of us after last night. I’m amazed you were able to act so quickly. How did you know what to do?”
“I’ve read—” Semote hesitated, realizing it was safer to avoid revealing too much about himself. “Just a bit of luck I suppose.”
“If you believe in that sort of thing.” Lucien took a break from swinging his sword in the air to take a look at the two of them. “Our friend here didn’t waste a moment to act. Almost as if he knew it was going to happen. It was uncanny, really.”
“That is the wrong question to be asking.” Gideon planted his sword in the ground before turning to face Lucien. “We shouldn’t be asking ourselves why he managed to do the right thing. Your time would be better spent examining why the rest of us almost failed to act in time. Unless you’d prefer it if Alexander was dead.”
“Of course not.” Lucien snapped. Darius caught Semote’s eye. Semote could guess what he was thinking. That Darius could provide an alibi for Semote’s location last night, if he wanted to prove he couldn’t have poisoned Alexander. Semote returned Darius’s gaze and shook his head very slightly. He didn’t want to tip his hand just yet, if someone was looking to set him up.
Wesley was standing off by himself without a sword in his hands. He didn’t seem particularly happy to be there, as he attempted to cover up a yawn. He was doing a set of exercises that looked like they were intended to wake himself up as much as to stretch his muscles.
“Wesley.” Semote approached him slowly, not wanting to be struck by a flailing limb. “There was something I wanted to ask you.” To tell the truth, it was not so much a question for him, so much as a question he didn’t want overheard. This was as good of an opportunity as any.
Wesley righted himself from a stretch and squinted back at him. “I’m listening.”
“A while back we were discussing the gifts brought to Rowena’s father. You said there was some wine among them. Do you remember anything else he was given, or showed any interest in?”
Wesley frowned for a second. “You really aren’t letting this go, are you. Fresh corpses risk piling up, and you’re still interested in the one death no one thinks was foul play.”
“Each crime seems less purposeful than the last. If someone is willing to kill two lords, Rowena’s father would have been an even faster path to their objective.”
“I didn’t say I think you’re wrong.” Wesley whispered in a hiss. “For the love of gods, just try to be discreet.” Wesley swept his eyes over the other lords. “Owen himself seemed paranoid, he didn't so much as touch the flowers that I offered his family, we had no more contact than a handshake."
“Did he seem sick to you?"
“No.” Wesley resumed stretching out his calves. “But I was there early in the day. I have to say, if you really think someone here killed her father, it should be a simple question to answer.”
“And how’s that?”
Wesley looked over at the other nobles. “Say someone is manipulating events so that the princess finds herself terrified and uncertain, hoping for something stable and secure above all else. Who would stand to gain the most?”
Semote eventually made his way to the crowd at the side of the field, as Rowena herself arrived. A few faces in the crowd looked at him strangely, as if they recognized him from before and were wondering what he was doing there apart from the others. He avoided their gaze. He wasn’t sure what allowance to make for himself. It was certainly true he wasn’t feeling his best, but in reality he had nothing to gain from competing and no aptitude to demonstrate if he did. He would have taken any excuse to just observe.
It looked as if they were pairing off to duel before anything else, a fact made slightly awkward by their uneven numbers. Cedric appeared to be sitting out the first round, by choice or by luck.
“She came in with eight, and now only five are left to fight? Maybe she really did need all of you.” Finn had appeared at Semote’s side. He was speaking in a low voice, as if to avoid drawing attention to himself.
Semote glanced over at the young man, quickly thinking through how a lord like Silas would be expected to respond. “Don’t count me out just yet.”
Lucien and Gideon bowed to each other and began the first duel. Posing for the crowd, they looked like a mirror image of each other, swords held on opposing sides, Gideon brandishing his blade in his right hand, and Lucien in his left. Their weapons clashed at a steady rhythm, but there didn’t seem to be any genuine ferocity in either of their motions. Their swings were more elegant than forceful as they faced off against each other, both seemingly oblivious to the cheers of the crowd and the names being called out. Lucien looked to be outmatched, gradually giving up ground, but Gideon seemed to be taking his time, to put on a show if nothing else.
“It’s a pity Valerian didn’t live to make this one. He probably would have swept the field.”
Semote looked over at Finn. “You think so?”
“He studied with the best.” Finn allowed himself a small smile at his own words. In front of the two of them, Lucien conceded the fight to Gideon, and Darius and Wesley stepped out to take their places. “Not that he ever reached his full potential. The type of sword-fighting practiced by the nobility is more about performance than combat. All style, very little substance. If you’ll forgive me for saying so.”
Wesley bowed to Darius as they approached each other. Darius bowed briefly in return, then darted forward with a quick series of strikes that had Wesley stumbling backward to stay out of the way. Wesley raised an arm as if to beg for a moment’s rest, but Darius took the opportunity to knock Wesley’s sword clean from his hand and send it clanging onto the ground.
Finn laughed to himself as Wesley slinked off the field. “Apparently I’m not the only who feels this way.”
Semote watched as Cedric stepped forward to duel with Darius. “Do you wish your former master was here, then?”
“I have mixed emotions.”
“You sounded almost proud of him a moment ago.”
Finn shrugged. “He learned a great deal from our time together, just not the lessons I would have preferred to teach. But even if we restrict ourselves to swordplay, he was only the second most gifted noble I’ve had the pleasure of working with.”
“Since that wasn’t enough to keep him alive, I’m not sure what that really says.”
Semote watched Cedric and Darius square off for a minute. The two seemed evenly matched for enthusiasm, both seeming to dare the other to find an opening as they made a circle in the grass. Darius was attempting to land more blows but without any success; Cedric was proving more cautious than Wesley in avoiding being taken by surprise.
“So what did you really come here to talk about?” Semote asked.
“I didn’t observe any new messages being sent in secret last night. I hear you all had other concerns. But I do have a critical piece of information for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I believe I know what happened to the poison used the other night. I saw a small vial thrown out from the window of one of the guest rooms before shattering on the ground.”
“Which one?”
“It belonged to one of the gentlemen in front of us actually.”
Semote watched the two square off. The fight seemed to be coming to a close, Darius had finally let off his attack and Cedric seemed to be gaining an edge.
“Cedric?”
Finn shook his head. “Darius.”
Semote turned to look at Finn, ignoring the wave of applause that was rippling across the crowd. “You’re lying.”
“Would that I were. Does that surprise you?”
“That’s impossible. Darius couldn’t have planted any poison.”
Finn seemed amused by his reaction. “I’m just relaying what I saw. You’re the one who has to decide if it’s worth acting on.”
In the field in front of them, Cedric was facing off with Gideon for the final duel. Semote shifted his attention one last time. He couldn’t say for sure how the fight was going to go. Cedric seemed to have limitless energy in going after the other man, but his focus wavered, Semote caught him looking sidelong at the audience and the princess as if to gauge how well he was doing through their eyes. Semote had a difficult time estimating how evenly matched Gideon was for strength or skill, the older man seemed to be taking his time and keeping his guard up, to let Cedric tire himself out.
Finn barely seemed to be watching the fight anymore, and was looking over at Semote.
“Is someone paying you to tell me this?” Semote asked.
Finn shook his head. “I’m here for my own reasons.”
“Which are?”
“Like I said. Trying to atone for past mistakes, with what little access I have. It’s your business whether you choose to believe me or not. But I’m telling you the truth.”
Semote heard a cheer ring out and looked ahead of him. Gideon had his sword placed against Cedric’s chest, who had dropped his own weapon in defeat. Semote joined in and made a show of clapping as the applause around him swelled. By the time he thought to check for Finn, he was gone. After a few seconds spent feeling out of place for being the only person in the crowd watching something other than the field, Semote turned back around to see the group lining up for what looked like a round of target practice.
“You don’t have anything to worry about, just so you know.”
Now Hector had decided to have a word with him. Apparently being a noble guaranteed you a busy social life, whether you wanted one or not. Semote looked away from the line of bows being prepared in front of him to face the other man.
“And why’s that?”
Hector gave a curt laugh. “Watching them at work, I think I could take any one of them. So you won’t have to put up with your killer for much longer. Any leads you would like to share to save my time?”
Off in front of them, a volley of arrows were let loose in rapid succession. Semote wondered how they were going to identify the victor, before realizing each of their quivers had different colored fletchings attached to the arrows. The group walked forward to observe the results.
“Lucien and Gideon are the closest.” Cedric called out for the benefit of the crowd, somewhat disappointedly. “Too close to call, in fact. You’ll have to go another round.”
Semote turned back towards Hector. “No definitive proof yet, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
“There has to be someone you’re wishing was out of the picture.”
Lucien fired off a blue winged arrow, followed by Gideon with a red one, with both shots seeming to land almost dead center. The two men stepped forward to examine the results.
It was Lucien’s turn to frown and relay the news, as Gideon stepped back modestly. “Both near the center. Gideon’s is closer. Congratulations to him.”
Semote glanced over at Hector as the crowd burst into applause and began to disperse. “The only unwelcome presence right now is a certain enforcer who seems a little too thirsty for blood.”
Hector simply laughed at him. “If it was your family’s honor I was defending, I’m sure you’d feel differently. Just give it a little more time. This will all be over before you know it.”
The rest of the day was a bit of a chore to get through. Dinner was a paranoid affair, with all the guests forced into each other’s company while the preparations were being made to prevent anyone from sneaking out. As the trays of food made it around the table, passing from Rowena and Skye to the others, everyone seemed slightly afraid of their first bite, before settling into the fact that they were going to live through the night. If nothing else, their killer didn’t seem particularly inclined to repeat himself. Their conversation that night somehow completely avoided the outcome of that day’s events. Gideon made no mention of his success, and no one else seemed to have the stomach to bring it up.
It was the end of the night that Semote was looking forward to. He made a show out of turning in early, then snuck out of his room to make it up to the roof of the castle. He found a spot in a corner out of view of the stairs leading up, and opposite the wall he had seen the bird perch on the other night. He knelt down in the darkness, doing his best to remain completely out of sight.
Minutes passed. Possibly even hours. He had no way to track the time, except the slow creep of the moon in the night sky. Semote did his best to trace constellations from memory, a task which met a mild disruption from the light of a comet he had never seen before. He was cold, but a nervous excitement seemed to heat his body. He was in no danger of falling asleep, although he did worry if he’d even know when to give up if the night kept up with no activity. He wondered how Finn did it, apparently stalking the outside of the castle every night.
Semote heard a slow succession of footfalls approaching, and carefully dropped himself down to the ground. A shadowy figure was beginning to make his way up the stairs. Semote suppressed the urge to pick himself up and find out who it was. Nothing suspicious had happened yet. He had to bide his time.
The man raised something into the air, facing out against the east wall. Semote tried to get a sense for who the man was or what he was wearing, but it was too dark to see anything. He lay still for several minutes in silence, considering what his next move should be. Without even catching a glimpse of its approach, Semote saw a small bird landing on the wall next to the shadowy figure. After examining the bird, the man reached into his pocket and began fiddling with the bird’s leg. Semote held his breath, not wanting to disturb the act. He wanted to be sure the man was delivering a message to the outside before rushing out. He drew himself upwards to get a better look.
Suddenly the man turned around. Semote froze. The man slapped the bird from behind, sending it rising into the air, and took off towards the stairs. Semote raced forward to try to catch him. Racing down the stairs two at a time, no sooner had he reached the lighted halls of the castle, than the man was already out of sight. Semote cursed himself for missing his chance, checking down one hall, then another, for some sign of his target. This was bad. Even worse, since he had been spotted. He might have missed his only chance to catch whomever it was in the act.
“Can I help you with something?”
Semote had stumbled into a sitting room where Lucien was laying back in a chair, apparently resting his eyes. Semote took a moment to catch his breath, looking carefully at the other man for any sign of sweat or concern. But Lucien was resting motionless, his chest barely moving under his blue robe.
“Is everything all right?” Lucien had opened one eye to gaze at Semote. He seemed completely at ease.
“What do you think?” Semote retorted.
Lucien shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Now if there’s nothing else you need...?”
Semote watched him for a moment longer, then stormed out in frustration. He retraced his steps up to the roof of the castle, hoping to find some sign of the man from the roof, some clue he might have left behind. There were no torn threads, no dropped objects.
But there was something else. On the roof of the castle, the pigeon had returned to the wall. Not wanting to believe his luck, Semote slowly approached the bird, being careful not to spook it and send it flying off again. Dangling from its foot was a small capsule, with a note partially stuffed inside. As cautiously as he could, Semote reached over to the bird’s foot. It fluttered its wings and started to rise up. Semote began a desperate mix of cooing noises, bird calls, and anything else he could think of to catch the bird’s attention. Whether by luck or his haphazard efforts, the creature slowly glided back down, and Semote quickly snatched the note before the bird could rise up again.
Semote unfurled the note in his trembling hands. There were only a handful of words.
“It’s almost time. Have the army ready. The fall of Lithos will be the rise of Serenia.”
A few minutes later, Semote was sitting down next to Rowena, the note laid out on a table between them.
“You realize how this looks.” Rowena spoke softly.
“I couldn’t care less how it looks. I want to know what it is.”
Rowena sighed. “I’ll do my best to explain. As I’m sure you know, when my claim to the throne evaporates, all of Lithos belongs to whoever can hold it. It would appear that someone is already making plans to divide it up. With the help of one of our friends here.”
“That much I gathered.”
“The counterparty to this scheme appears to be Serenia. The homeland of our friend Darius.”
“We don’t have any proof he’s directly involved.”
“This is about as close as it gets.” Rowena’s mind seemed to be elsewhere as she stared at the note. “I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“But this doesn’t make sense. We know Darius can’t be our killer.”
“Well, look at it this way. We have four crimes we need to know the origin of.”
Semote nodded. “All right.”
“The murder of my father. The murder of Valerian. The attempted murder of Alexander. And now, a plot to plunder my kingdom with the help of the Serenian army.”
“Yes.” Semote tapped the table. “We know Darius couldn’t have committed the first or the third crime. And he told me himself he thinks your father was killed with the assistance of a foreign power, which likely ties that first murder to the fourth crime.”
“Which could be a perfectly serviceable excuse if he believed we were going to discover this plot anyway.” Rowena was looking back at Semote thoughtfully. “If there’s an army out to invade us, Darius would have known we’d find out eventually. By trying to tie the two crimes together, he could be attempting to make himself look innocent. Are you concerned this letter could be a setup?”
Semote shook his head. “I really don’t think so. I witnessed another letter go out the other night, and I caught whoever it was by surprise tonight. Except for the pigeon happening to fly back, I’m convinced this letter would have gone out to someone.”
“I’d much rather have believed it was fake. This isn’t good. This means we’re running even lower on time than I had thought.” Rowena’s expression was downcast. “We could ask for handwriting samples, but if the killer realizes what we’re doing, he might take it as a reason to move straight to war.”
Semote thought for a moment. “If we’re lucky, we won’t need to. We already have two samples.”
“Two?” Rowena looked puzzled for a moment, then her expression changed. “The gifts.”
Semote nodded. “Wesley’s and Gideon’s. Do you still have them?”
A few minutes later, Rowena had returned with two stretches of paper, one of which appeared to be an overdone love letter from Wesley, and the other a list of recommendations on the security of Lithos from Gideon. The former looked like it had barely been touched.
“You haven’t taken the time to read Wesley’s treatise on romance?” Semote asked, as he compared the letter to the small scrap of paper.
“I’ve been too busy trying to get married to worry much about love.” Rowena looked at the letters with a bemused expression. “How depressing is that.”
“It’s not Wesley.” Semote put the paper down after giving it a careful study. “Let me see the other one.”
Semote carefully examined Gideon’s paper. Like Wesley’s, and like the small note, the handwriting seemed natural and unforced. It also failed to match.
“It’s not Gideon either.”
“Well that’s something.” Rowena took a deep breath. “So that leaves us with three. Cedric, Darius, and Lucien. And only one obvious fit.”
“Even if it is Darius, we’re still left with another killer to find.” Semote paused to give Rowena a serious look. “I really hope you’re not planning on saying anything to Hector.”
Rowena sighed. “I hope you understand that I cannot control his actions. But I am not going to set him off. Another senseless act of violence isn’t going to help anything.” Rowena rubbed her forehead. “I am open to other suggestions, however.”
Semote looked down at the note, thinking through the sequence of crimes in his mind. “At every stage, someone seems to be responding to your actions. Your father follows your wishes and refuses to consider marrying you off, and he is taken out, making your marriage necessary. You play Valerian up as the favorite, and he dies, leaving you open for another. Alexander…” Semote shook his head. “I suppose he did ‘pass’ the second riddle and couldn’t have killed Valerian. Say a killer had some reason to think he stood to benefit with him gone. And now as you refuse to either pick a favorite or push to convict a killer, making it seem likely your claim will evaporate, someone makes plans to clean up by force.”
“I think you’re right.” Rowena was staring into space at the same spot he was. “It’s like we’ve been steering them without realizing it. If only there was some way to take advantage of it. See who we were influencing. Have you ever read…”
“Yes.” Semote responded immediately. “That’s exactly what we should do.”
Rowena looked over at him in surprise. “Really. We’re talking about the same thing? The story about the yellow bird—”
“Yes.” Semote looked her in the eye and nodded. “One for each of them. But I’m going to need help. There’s someone else I need to bring in, at least for this part.” Semote stood up, then felt himself frozen in place as he felt the warmth of Rowena’s hand on his, a look of concern in her eyes.
“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Rowena said the words quietly, her eyes cast downward. “Are you sure about this?”
Semote took a deep breath, trying not to think too hard about how he should feel about all of this, as he held the softness of her hand in his, telling himself it was for her comfort, and not for his own sake. “I think I’ll be fine. But if I don’t come back, you’ll know who it is.”
One year ago
The halls of the castle of Trent had a different energy than the circles in which Rowena usually traveled. For one thing, there were far more eligible women to be found than men. She had struck up conversations with several of them—they were all perfectly agreeable, although a little less fascinated with her than she was used to. It was almost enough to make her think she wasn’t as interesting of a person as she liked to believe.
Not unlike Lithos, the social life in Trent revolved around its ruling family. And at the center of the gossip was the sole ruling member of its house. By all accounts an eligible bachelor prime to move on to the next phase of his life, but one who had so far proven resistant to all attempts to be match-made. None of that seemed to discourage the hopeful young women at the castle tonight, both noble and otherwise elevated in lineage.
Rowena’s own business in Trent was in fact purely social, but she was beginning to feel a bit of guilt by association simply for appearing to be in the same situation as the women obviously seeking a powerful husband. There was even a strange competitiveness to it as well. Even though she had no real reason to benefit from a good impression, she didn’t want to be seen as just another desperate woman, and be promptly forgotten. It was enough to make her wonder how many of the men who wandered into her life behaved as they did for similar reasons, not because they cared what she thought of them, but because they cared what others thought she thought of them.
The ruler of Trent was standing off by himself—or at least, he would have remained off by himself if it weren’t for the young women periodically intruding on his company to make introductions. Gideon appeared to endure their attentions well enough, he engaged with the women politely, but he never seemed to do much to move the conversation forward unless prompted by someone else. His guests gradually excused themselves one by one. Rowena found herself wondering what Gideon’s type was, and if he genuinely enjoyed being the center of attention or if he was anxious to be done with it.
Gideon had caught her staring and was looking back at her. Feeling a little foolish, and not having anyone else to retreat towards, Rowena decided to press forward and get it over with for the both of them.
“Rowena of Lithos.” It was Gideon who spoke first. He was studying her carefully. “Rumor would suggest you’re seeking a husband. I’m sorry my court doesn’t have more to offer.”
The implication left a sour taste in her mouth. “If we’re here to comment on rumors, I doubt we’ll find anything positive to say to each other. Suffice it to say it’s false, or at the least no more true for me than any other woman.”
Gideon nodded. “Fair enough. Rumor would also suggest that I’m shirking my responsibility and I intend to let my house die with me. It’s no more accurate than what they say about you, but I can understand why people think it.”
Gideon’s bluntness was surprising. Rowena wondered if he had managed to scare off all the women he’d known so far just by being himself. “And why is that?”
Gideon grimaced. “Because I have no real desire to be married. I already shoulder the responsibility of my kingdom, a duty which pulls me in a thousand directions. On top of that, to be expected to support a spouse seems impossible. To be blamed if she’s unhappy, support her in the style and luxury to which she’s accustomed, and provide for her to live a life of idleness while also managing the well-being of my own subjects. It’s not something I’m eager to get on with.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Thank you.” Gideon was looking slightly satisfied with himself.
“For her I mean.”
Gideon looked back at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“I can hardly think of anything worse than to be cooped up doing nothing while my husband runs a kingdom by himself. To be some bauble shown off to the world but have no say and nothing to contribute. It sounds like the life you’re offering is a miserable one all around.”
“It is the way the houses of Aeolia have been run for generations.”
“Yes.” Rowena looked back at him. “Which is why you’re looking forward to it so much.”
Gideon shook his head and allowed a small smile to form on his face. He studied the rest of the women in the room for a moment. “You could be the only one who feels this way.”
“I’d like to think the rest of them haven’t really thought it through, or they’re holding their tongues about how they’d like married life to work.”
“And how would you like it to work?”
“More of a partnership.” Rowena thought for a moment. “I know my kingdom better than any outsider, it goes without saying I’d be able to run it better. And it seems the height of pride and stupidity to not share the burden that goes with it.”
Gideon was studying her carefully, like she had just walked into the room and he was seeing her for the first time. She tried to guess what was behind that gaze, but Gideon’s expression was the same solid picture of reserve.
Finally he spoke. “So. I hear you’ve only just arrived. What are you planning on doing with yourself later?”
Rowena smiled inwardly in triumph at having gotten a signal of interest out of him, but didn’t let it show. “That’s the question everyone wants to know, isn’t it?” She responded airily. “I suppose we’ll have to see.”
Now
“We need to talk.”
Darius was standing at the door to his room, bleary-eyed and looking like he had just been woken up by the forceful knocking from a few seconds ago. It could all be an act, of course. Semote was looking for considerably harder evidence than anything words or impressions could provide.
“Can I come in?” Semote asked.
Darius hesitated, then nodded, and gestured for him to step inside. Semote closed the door behind him, and scanned the contents of the room quickly. A book on the table. A signed letter validating him as a member of his house, not unlike the one Semote himself had brought. Clothes in the wardrobe, a few personal items. If Darius had much in the way of riches with him, it wasn’t readily apparent. More importantly, he didn’t see anything that resembled a weapon.
“So what’s this about?” Darius asked, taking a seat on the bed. “Have you figured something out?”
“I hope that I’m about to.” Semote pulled a roll of paper and a small graphite pencil out of his tunic. “I’d like you to write something down for me.”
Darius gave him a puzzled look as he picked up the items. “I’m not sure I understand, what is it that you want me to write?”
“The fall of Lithos will be the rise of Serenia.”
Darius started at those words, and glared at Semote accusingly. “What the hell are you playing at?”
“Why, do those words mean something to you?”
“They don’t mean a thing to me. But it sounds like you’re trying to set me up.”
“You have nothing to worry about unless you’re guilty of something.”
“The hell I do.” Darius forced the paper and pencil into Semote’s hands. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I want no part in it.”
“Would you rather I tell Hector that there’s a Serenian army on the way, and see what he thinks that implies?”
Darius gaped at him in disbelief. “I don’t know anything about this.”
Semote unfurled the note from the rooftop and showed it to Darius, whose eyes widened. Semote rolled it back up and returned it to his pocket. “Right now I am the only thing standing between you and a likely execution. Everyone else thinks you’re guilty. But I want to give you a chance. So write the phrase so I can tell if it’s you, or take your chances elsewhere.”
Darius beckoned for the paper and pencil again, looking nervous. He quickly wrote out the phrase, and handed it back to Semote.
“Satisfied?”
“No. Write it again three more times.”
Semote turned the paper over, and watched Darius write the phrase twice more on the back, using his usual right hand. Taking the paper back, Semote compared both sides. They were consistent with each other, no obvious signs of trying to disguise his writing. The script was as confident and practiced as that of the note itself. And comparing both samples to the note, the writing failed to match.
“All right.” Semote nodded, tucking away the note again. “I’m convinced you didn’t write the note. So that just leaves me with one question.”
“Yes?” Darius looked even more nervous than he had before, if that were possible.
“Why did I find the dagger that killed Valerian in your room just a few hours ago?”
Darius’s jaw dropped open, and he exhaled a sharp breath. When he spoke it was a frantic jumble of words. “It wasn’t me—you have to believe me. Someone’s trying to set me up. They had to know they could make me take the fall for it. I didn’t put it there, I don’t know how it could have gotten there. I didn’t kill anyone. I would never.” Darius’s eyes were beginning to water, as he grabbed onto Semote’s arms, like he was ready to shake him.
Semote pulled back and raised a hand for Darius to stop. “It’s all right. I believe you. We haven’t found anything in your room. But the fact that you were so quick to believe that we could have, makes me think you don’t know where the dagger is.”
Darius nodded weakly.
“Even though you did at one point.”
Darius looked back at him in disbelief. He started to speak, but the sound faded away weakly. “What makes you say that?” He finally croaked out.
“Two days ago. The day after Valerian’s murder. I saw you coming out of Valerian’s room. The next day I found the dagger there. Perhaps I should have turned you in then. But then the dagger disappeared, and I have a hard time believing it was taken by you.”
“Why not?” Darius broke in. “You’re absolutely correct—but why not?”
“When the dagger was taken, I heard two doors being opened and closed. A search of the castle the next day turned up nothing, so I don’t think anyone took it to their rooms. I think whoever took the dagger had to explore two rooms because they knew it had been stashed somewhere, but they weren’t sure of where to find it. Because the dagger wasn’t where they had left it originally. Which brings me to last night...”
Semote looked for a sign of acknowledgement from Darius, then continued.
“Some time after I passed out for the night, you threw a vial that once contained poison out of your window. But you and I both know you didn’t have the opportunity to poison anyone. So why destroy the evidence? Why would you even have the vial? There’s only one possible explanation that makes sense. Someone planted it in your room, hoping it would be discovered during a search and that you would be blamed for the crime. And you yourself raced out of dinner the moment a crime had been committed, assuming someone would be trying to plant evidence against you. Am I right?”
“Yes, but how…”
“All I can think is that someone must have done the same thing with the dagger after Valerian’s murder. Whoever committed the crime hid the dagger in your room, and upon being the first to discover it, you tried to hide it somewhere where it wouldn’t be tied back to you. Later, our killer went looking for the weapon after it didn’t turn up in the search, eventually finding it in Valerian’s room.”
“I can’t believe you actually trust me.” Darius had a dumbstruck look on his face. “I can’t believe you’re not taking what you know and trying to frame me for this yourself.”
“Please.” Semote waved his hand dismissively. “Why did you feel the need to lie about all this?”
Darius gave him a look. “You must have seen how justice in Aeolia works. Just a hint of guilt would have been enough for them to go after me. If I’d revealed I had the murder weapon, no excuse I could have given would have mattered. I doubt I’d still be here now.”
“All right.” Semote rested his palms on the bed. “So here’s what I know. Someone has been trying to frame you for Valerian’s murder, and the attempted murder of Alexander. It’s all too perfect. The unique murder weapon, the coins left on the body—there was not even an attempt to make Valerian’s murder look like a robbery. The killer must have committed the crime with a plan to frame someone, which has to be you.”
“Furthermore…” Darius was gazing at him with rapt attention, as Semote continued. “I’m convinced both attempts to frame you must have been by the same person, it’s too much of a coincidence that you would be set up twice. And if what you’ve told me is true, the plot to pillage Lithos could have been planned since the death of Rowena’s father. You really know nothing about any Serenian power that wants to invade?”
Darius shook his head, still a little nervous but gaining in confidence in his voice. “There are a number of players in the kingdom that might want to take advantage of the situation here. But I haven’t been privy to any such plotting—and I haven’t played any part in it.”
“I see.” Semote responded, rubbing his palms together. “I think I know what we have to do to catch whoever is behind this. But you’re going to have to trust me.”
A few minutes later, his last stop of the night took him to the room where Alexander was resting. The other man was sitting up in his bed, a gloomy expression on his pale face.
“I’m glad you’re alive after everything that happened.” Semote said.
Alexander shrugged. “Alive and useless. I might as well have died. At least I’d be remembered a little more fondly. People love martyrs more than failures.”
“Does it really matter what they think?”
“It matters that they’re right.” Alexander tried to stand himself up, but his strength gave out, and he slumped back into his bed. “All of that fencing instruction for nothing, years practicing perfect form, wasted. You’ll have to carry on without me, Silas. Just make sure you get the bastard who did this to me. It’s maddening being cooped up like this. A man without his strength is as worthless as a woman without her purity.”
Four months ago
Rowena had spent most of the night crying. Their doctor told her what she’d long been afraid to hear, that with every visit she made to see her father, she should be prepared for it to be the last time. There was no hope of recovery. At best he had weeks. At worst, days. Every time she would see him he would be a dimmer shadow of his former self, until he left them forever.
Every time she felt like she had made a certain amount of peace with the situation, or at least built up enough composure to keep on a mask for everyone else, another wave of grief would hit her from a different source. The current one was arguably more selfish in its origins, but no less real. When her father ran out of time, so did she. She would be faced with a choice. Marry, or lose everything and leave her kingdom ripe for invasion.
There was a knock at her door. She buried her face further in the pillow and willed for whoever it was to leave her alone. She had heard reports they were still receiving visitors stopping by to express their sympathies for her father’s plight, but she had no desire to meet with anyone. Even less so since their arrival was almost certainly motivated less by sympathy than realizing the implications this held for her future.
The knock came again. Rowena drew herself up and wiped her face clean. She might as well give whoever it was a piece of her mind. Trudging over to the door, she opened it up and prepared a scathing rebuke.
“You—”
And then she saw who it was. Her voice died out just as it had begun to rise. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. He looked at her cheeks, recently stained with tears, her eyes, red from lack of sleep, and her hair, a tussled mess that hadn’t been seen in public for days. But there was something in his eyes that said he saw her as the most beautiful creature in the world, his eyes as earnest and open as an adoring puppy. It was something she didn’t realize she had missed. Something she knew she could have, on her own terms.
Wordlessly, she pulled open the door and beckoned him inside. He shut the door behind him, looking cautiously through the gap to make sure no one had seen. She was on him in an instant before he could turn back. Her lips found his, as she threw her arms around him. He gripped her tightly, and she squeezed him in return, finally letting herself go limp in his strong arms. His fingers traced worshipfully through her hair, ignoring every tangle as he followed her strands. She kissed him again, and felt him kiss her back, a little uncertainly at first, but with a growing passion she didn’t know he was capable of. She stroked one hand tenderly down his cheek and looked into his eyes. He seemed to tense up as she walked away from him, but she held onto his hand with the tips of her fingers, drawing him over to the bed.
It wasn’t what was smart, what she would have told herself she should do. But at the moment, it was what she needed. To see if his love for her could be enough to keep her going.
She relaxed into his arms as he held her after, feeling something new in him, finally seeing him happier than she ever had before.
But nothing had changed. The world didn’t go away just because she chose to forget about it for a while. When he stood up to get dressed, she made no motion to accompany him. She was back to feeling most of what she had before. The cold hard fact of the matter was that it hadn’t made her any more certain, or made her future any more clear.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke the words softly, but she felt as if she could have been yelling at him. She turned away from his face, not wanting to see the expression on it. “But I still don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t promise anything right now. We’ll need to go on as if this didn’t happen.”
He said nothing in response, simply staring at her, in either disbelief or denial. Then, wordlessly, he opened the door and exited out into the hall. She tiptoed to the door to watch him leave when she was sure he wasn’t looking. She was an idiot for doing this, but she had no one else to go to. This certainly hadn’t made her life any simpler.
Rowena started at the sound of footsteps coming from the other end of the hall, the possibility that her dalliance had not gone unnoticed quickly bringing her back to reality. Her mind began to race with scenarios of who might have seen her. She turned to look, but by the time her eyes had adjusted to the light all she could see was a shadow disappearing around the corner.
To be continued in Chapter 10, now available here:
