“You?” William’s pitch rose to give away his incredulity. “What are you doing here at—it’s not important. Peter, Lorenz, take her inside the tavern. Don’t let anyone see her. Take her to the back and choose a table.”
“What?” It was my turn to reveal surprise. “I can’t just—”
But he wasn’t listening.
“Cromer and I will see what we can do out here.” He spoke to the men, not me, and while I wanted nothing more than to yell at him and demand an explanation, the vision of a man’s bloodied head rolling in the dirt stayed my tongue. And also turned my stomach.
Had he seen? “The terrors, William. I think … I think they’re real. Something just killed a man, he’s dead, we have to leave—”
He glanced from me to the men. “I know.”
And with that, he vanished into the square’s shadows with Cromer. I moved to shout after him, but one of the others touched a finger to my lips and growled.
“Don’t say a word, if you want him to live.”
Who were these men?
While I had the thought to break free and run home on my own, I would abide William’s request for the sake of his own safety—despite how desperately I wanted to beat my fists against these men and demand the truth. Why would a prince be here in town, now?
It made as much sense as a prince in a field of gravestones, I thought.
Peter and Lorenz—both tall enough to take root in a forest—stood shoulder-deep to each other, with me between. Should anyone have viewed us from the front or back, I suppose they wouldn’t have seen me, though at the time I thought any attempt at shrouding a woman from sight within a tavern seemed a futile task.
I said nothing as we walked up the steps to the King’s Arm, and though I ached to stare into the shadows to find William, the weaker parts of me wished not to see Konrad’s headless body—or his head, for that matter—and so I resisted curiosity this once.
They led me inside, where it seemed only a few had noticed the strange goings-on outside. The minstrel kept singing, tankards clinked, and laughter continued to pierce the air.
I thought I might vomit if I didn’t sit down.
Several words were exchanged with the occupant of a secluded table in the rear of the room, and I sat with shaking limbs in a corner-positioned chair. I folded my hands on the table. Perhaps seeing them there would stop their trembling. Peter and Lorenz chose to stand, facing the room.
It was all very strange, and I couldn’t imagine how William would talk himself out of this one without some revelation or another. For that matter, I failed to see how he might enter the room without revealing himself—or appearing very suspicious under a hood—nor why he would choose to do so in the first place.
Yet of greater importance was the question of what he was doing skulking around in city shadows.
Though seated, it took some time before I caught my breath, and though I could not shake the image of a man’s severed head rolling across the ground toward me, I managed to cease trembling long enough to still the churning contents of my stomach.
It felt like an age before William pushed between the men he’d left to guard me and sat down on the other side of the table, hood raised. In the dim light of the tavern, even I could make out the flush of his cheeks and hear his quickened breath.
“Are you all right?” His words came in a rush and he dropped his hood, shielded as he was from view by the men standing in front of the table. “Were you hurt?”
Only if nightmares are counted among injuries. “No, thank you. Though I imagine it will take some time to remove the sight from memory.” I looked into his eyes and saw it, then. He knew something. “What was that? Whatever could do such a thing?”
He shook his head, and my fright once again became a slow descent into anger.
“It’s nothing. It’s … shouldn’t you be at home, asleep? Or,” he said with a tight smile, “sitting in a graveyard?”
I scowled at him. How could he joke at a moment such as this? “Shouldn’t you be out looking for your coin purse in strangers’ stables?”
It was not my most brilliant retort, I admit.
“We’re not strangers, you and I. Didn’t we cover this already? I’m William, which you already know.” I remained silent as he gestured toward me. “This is the part where you tell me your name. You are … ?”
“Wondering why I’m sitting at the back of a tavern instead of running home.”
He planted his palms on the table and leaned forward, speaking so softly I could barely hear him, save for seeing the words formed on his lips. “Remember when we met? I told you there’d been rumors of terrors in the town.”
I didn’t respond.
“These are they. One came here, tonight, and killed that man outside.”
The shaking returned and I tried to quell it, swallowing so hard upon my own throat that it seemed to close in on itself. The ache must have shown on my face, for William reached across the table and placed a hand on mine.
I flinched and pulled away, the intensity of his gaze and earnestness of his touch more than I could bear. I would be lying if I said I couldn’t still feel the press of his hand against my mouth in that moment.
“And I suppose you’re here to save us all?” I tried to put a light-hearted laugh behind it, though it escaped as a cough instead.
William’s gaze flicked over his shoulder and back. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Presumptuous, he! “You know me so well to assume what I will and will not believe? I hadn’t realized you were also an intuitive.”
He sighed and rubbed both hands across his face and back through his hair, sending strands poking through his fingers like bits of straw.
Not that I looked close enough to notice.
“I’m no intuitive. But I am someone who cares about this town’s citizens, and I go where I am needed.”
A flutter in my stomach made me curse my weaknesses. “And you believe you’re better needed here than outside, where the terror stalks innocents and takes their lives without warning?”
A frown marred his features for an instant. “It’s gone, for now. It has already killed and taken the body. There’ll be no more disturbances tonight.”
Realization dawned. “You’ve seen this before.”
“Perhaps.”
“You said they were rumors.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It’s not my place.”
“I might have died, and it would have been your fault.”
“But you didn’t, did you?”
“No thanks to you!” I folded my arms across my bosom and refused to meet his eyes. He sighed heavily and I might have felt a pang of guilt, had I not just seen a man’s head separated from his shoulders by nothing but shadows. I tried, how I tried, to shake the memory, but the small portion of courage I’d stored upon seeing William this night vanished with the weight of a man’s death.
The corners of my vision blurred, and I blinked away the liquid that welled up, unbidden.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have realized you’re not the kind of lady to sit at home and barricade the doors at something so fleeting as a rumor.”
One of my mother’s favourite phrases came to mind, and as it fit the moment, I deigned to speak to him again. “A life spent idle is no life at all.”
“Agreed.”
He grew silent again, and I felt a warmth spreading through my fingertips. What I truly wanted to know, I could not yet ask—why would the Prince be risking his life in the dark amidst known danger? Still, I didn’t feel the time had grown right to give myself away. He would tell me in his own time.
If ever.
“Are you certain it’s gone?”
“Yes.” He looked down at his hands and back at me. “It’s late, and you’ve seen enough tonight to lay low a person of weaker constitution. May I—may we escort you home?”
The
request jarred me from my wondering. An escort home with the Crown Prince? If my father had seen me returning home late at night with any man, no doubt there would have been trouble enough, but if Celia were to see this? I wouldn’t be long for this world.
And perhaps worse, William might wonder why I had to crawl on my belly to slip under our gate and return to the house.
I set the bait, instead. “I have a better idea. You tell me why you were really poking around in our stable, and I’ll let you take me home.”
He sighed yet again, and shifted seats until he sat next to me rather than across. It was strange, having him so close—and the warmth in my hands spread to my chest. Despite how infuriating I found him, I admit that I was growing not to dislike his presence.
He intrigued me, after all. William didn’t exactly act like a crown prince, so far as I could tell.
“I really wish you’d tell me your name,” he said, a hint of a smile returning to his face.
The intrigue wore thin, for that I kept to myself. I needed one secret, at the very least, to hold from him—at least until he revealed himself.
“I really wish you’d cease pressing the issue,” I replied.
William shook his head and propped an elbow on the table, resting cheek against fist. “You’re quite the mystery, you know that?”
I did. “Neither of us seems particularly inclined to reveal more than necessary to talk to each other. Perhaps we should each take that as a hint, and turn the topic to other matters?”
He did laugh then, loud and full, earning a look of alarm from Peter and Lorenz. He waved off their attentions and gazed past me for a moment, thoughtful.
“All right, then,” he conceded. “We’ll talk of something else. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“A brother. Somewhat ill, but recovering.”
“Older?”
“Younger.”
“Ah.” He grinned. “I should have guessed. An older brother would have figured you out by now and either kept you safe at home or come along with you. And your parents?”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. He would not come to learn of me that easily. “Your turn. One thing at a time, if you please. A lady shouldn’t babble on, revealing her whole self at once. What about you? Brothers? Sisters?”
But of course I already knew the answer.
“None, and I consider it both a curse and a blessing, depending on the day. I had a brother, I’m told, but he passed on before I was born … my mother told me once, when I found her crying in the garden under a lilac tree. She remembers him every spring, even now.”
That, I hadn’t known. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
I couldn’t envision life without Edward, but knowing what could have been? I imagined his mother must have her heart torn out again and again with each passing spring. “What happened?”
He shrugged and sat straighter in his seat, placing both palms flat against the table. “That, I don’t know, but I suspect it was something less than peaceful. No one speaks of it.” He grew quiet, flexing his fingers on the table’s surface. “And to be honest, I’m not quite sure why I’m telling you of it right now. But, enough sadness. It’s your turn.”
Of course it was. I wanted to hear more about his brother, but he would have none of it and indulged his own curiosities instead.
“What do you do when you’re not wandering around at all hours of the night and morning, or catching trespassers in the yard?”
A calmness descended as I told him of the books Edward and I read together, and of the copy of Faust I’d loved so deeply before Celia stole it from between my hands—a detail I conveniently left out. He appeared surprised that I could read, and it occurred to me that William—likely due to my haggard appearance and soiled clothes each time we met—believed me to be in the employ of those who lived at my home.
I did not correct him, nor did I steer him to believe otherwise. If he would not be forthright concerning himself, neither would I.
Still, he told me of his lengthy schooling and the books he enjoyed—mostly adventure stories, of which I was not surprised—and beyond that, he spoke of his journeys to other cities and provinces. I recounted several tales of days spent in our own town with Liesl and my mother, and we both pretended that the other did not know his true identity despite the entourage and I forgot, fully, that I had seen a man murdered that night by an unknown foe—and that Celia and her daughters waited for me at home with tasks that no doubt required a full night’s rest to complete.
It was only when I felt my eyelids droop with heaviness and Peter or Lorenz or Cromer turned to William to suggest we take our leave of the establishment that I remembered what had happened, where I was, and who I sat in the tavern with.
And it was only when I caught myself nodding off in the midst of William’s tale of menacing wolves and the Black Forest that he remembered these things, too.
“Come on,” he said, standing and pulling his hood up to conceal his face. “Let’s get you home before you’re noticed missing.”
Sleepily, I took his extended hand and allowed him to help me to my feet.
But once I stood, he did not let go.
“Why is it we’ve never met before? I suppose the opportunity simply wasn’t there.” He spoke more to himself than I. “How circumstances change … ”
At the time, I didn’t understand his meaning, but I didn’t have mind to ask—I only knew that he held my hand, brushing the back of it with a gentle thumb, and that I did not pull away but found myself secretly wishing he might hold it for the duration of the journey home.
And when he finally sighed with the slightest of smiles and let go, some part of me felt hollow in a way I also did not understand.
“Let’s go,” he said, and so we did.
I fell into comfortable step alongside William, and though I could not bring myself to tell him so just then, I had forgiven his interruptions and trespassing of our prior meetings. I wished he would speak to the truth of those occasions, that I might understand, but for tonight? This was enough.
We spent the walk home in silence, for it felt too strange to fill the empty space with words while others were close enough to listen. And what is more, I did not feel quite the same as I had when the sun first slipped from the horizon that night. Though one man’s death had seared an image of gruesome endings upon my memory, some other strange foe had taken root and settled within … for when William looked my way, I wondered what he saw and hoped he was not disappointed. I admit, I may have wished for him to continue looking, and considered with sharp anticipation that our hands might brush as we walked alongside.
I had thought, for quite some time now, that I didn’t want this. This connection, this touch, this closeness with another as my father had with my mother. And yet, here I was, betrayed by both heart and body. Cruel conspirators, they.
We reached my father's property and I remembered that particular method of entry required of a locked gate. But, just as I resigned myself to crawling upon the ground in William’s presence, one of his attendants—Lorenz?—came forward and busied about the lock for no longer than a woodlark’s call. The gate swung open. Lorenz stepped aside and gestured to the now-open space.
“Thank you,” I said, to Lorenz and William in turn. Despite the dryness of my throat and the strange weakness that had come upon my limbs, it would have been rude not to acknowledge William’s contribution to my safety. “Contrary to what you might think, I’m grateful for your intervention tonight. The events prior to your arrival were … most disturbing.”
He stepped closer and took both my hands in his, ignoring the unsubtle throat-clearing of Peter or Cromer.
“I’m glad you’re all right. It’s not safe for you to be wandering around after dark these days.”
I couldn’t resist one final nudge. “Are you saying I can’t take care of myself?”
“No! Of course not. You’re clearly quite capable o
f that, it’s just—”
I smiled to let him in on the jest. He returned it and squeezed my hands, both warming and cooling them at the same time.
“It’s obvious I won’t be able to keep you inside the house, but would you promise me one thing?”
I knew I should not be making promises to anyone save my brother, but my head, heart, and mouth refused to cooperate as the moment deepened. “That depends.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Don’t go out at night. Between the sun’s disappearance to its reawakening above the horizon in the early morning sky, remain indoors.”
“You know very well I can’t promise that.”
“When the sky begins to grow light again, it’s safe. At least, safe from what you saw tonight, if not anything else. I’d prefer you indoors until the sun’s full face—”
“You’d prefer it?” My tone grew shrill, admiration giving way to annoyance. Who did he think himself, to demand such a thing? It was a prudent request, and not without merit—I had promised myself inasmuch the moment that man’s head fell from his shoulders—but if William thought he had any claim on me in an official sense, he was sorely mistaken. Particularly if he continued to refuse to disclose himself.
“I don’t mean to force claim,” he sputtered, confusion wrinkling his brow, “but I fear for your safety and I don’t wish to see you come to any harm.”
And I didn’t wish to involve myself further with someone who could not be honest about their true self. “Good night, William.”
He bent slightly at the waist, as if to excuse himself with a formal bow, but realized what he did before completing the gesture and pretended to brush dirt off his coat instead. Upon straightening, I received a decidedly informal nod.
“Good night … ” His voice trailed off, expectant.
I knew what he waited for, and I supposed I owed him that much.
But first, I turned to leave and walked several paces toward the house before allowing a final glace over my shoulder.
“Ellison,” I said, “but you may call me Ella.”
Cinderella Necromancer Page 8
