Making up her mind, Tiki dipped the tip into the black ink. She pulled the pen out and realized she needed to blot the tip. She spied an old newspaper and reached for it, trying not to drip. Mr. Potts would have a conniption if she got ink on his floor. She slid the paper over and firmly planted the tip on the page, causing a large dot of black ink to spread in a circle from the end of the pen. Satisfied, Tiki lifted the silver point and started scratching letters across the page.
To Captain Davis-Smith:
I am in possession of the missing item. I would like to collect the reward which has been posted but I do not seek attention and would like to keep my identity a secret. For that reason, please leave the reward in a large black bag,
Tiki paused and chewed on the wooden end of the pen handle. Where was a safe place to leave the reward? She knew from watching the hordes of people constantly moving through the railway station that everybody carried black bags. That would be the easiest way to hide and move the reward. But where to leave it so the police wouldn’t catch her picking it up?
An idea struck her, and she leaned forward to finish the note. Satisfied, Tiki blew gently on the page to dry the ink. She could hear Potts’s slow footsteps shuffling her way.
“All done,” she said brightly, jumping up with the pen and inkwell in her hand. “Where do you want me to put these?”
“Eh? Oh, well, put ’em back ’ere on the front desk.” Potts stopped and peered down the hallway at her. “Got yer letter written, then?”
“Yes, thanks.” Tiki smiled at the old man as she hurried by him to put the pen and ink on the desk. When she turned back, she was horrified to see him bending down to read her letter, which lay drying on the floor.
Tiki ran down the narrow passageway and turned sideways to scoot past Mr. Potts, bumping him with her sore arm as she did. “S’cuse me,” she squeaked as she swept the page from the floor.
“Who’d you write to?” His eyes followed the page in Tiki’s hand.
“Oh, just a note to an aunt who lives up in Liverpool,” Tiki said. “I lost her address but thought I’d try anyway.”
“What aunt in Liverpool?” another voice asked.
Startled, Tiki turned toward the dark shadow near the door.
“What are you doing here?” Tiki slid the paper inside her jacket and prayed that the ink was dry and wouldn’t smudge.
“Looking for you.” Rieker backed up so Mr. Potts and Tiki could move into the main part of the little shop.
“Lookin’ for a book, you say?” Mr. Potts eyed Rieker up and down with a frown. “Or you want a daily today?”
Rieker’s hair was brushed back from his face, and a dimple peeked from one side of his cheek as he smiled at the old man. “I am looking for a book. What do you recommend?”
Tiki’s stomach fluttered with an unfamiliar feeling. It surprised her that Rieker could be so charming at times.
“Oh, well, hmmm…” The old man cleared his throat. “’Ow’s about this one?” He pulled a copy of Oliver Twist from the shelf. “Seems like it might be a story you’d enjoy.”
Tiki pressed her lips together to hide a smile as she read the title. She knew the story of Oliver, an orphan boy who got caught up with a band of pickpockets. Her eyes darted to Rieker’s face to watch his reaction. Did he have any idea of Potts’s insult?
Rieker reached for the book and eyed the title. “Yes, this looks good. I’ve heard of this chap Dickens. What’s it about?” He looked to the old man for an explanation.
Potts cleared his throat and cast rheumy eyes on Rieker’s tall form. “’Bout a boy, grew up ’ere in London. Falls in with a bunch of ruffians. Bad news.”
“Sounds interesting.” Rieker grinned at Potts. “How much?”
“One shilling, sixpence, and no IOUs,” Potts mumbled. He appeared surprised at Rieker’s willingness and ability to purchase.
Rieker reached into his pocket and Tiki could hear a jingle of coins as he pulled out a handful. He picked out a silver shilling and six copper pennies and handed them over to Potts. “Maybe I can get Tiki to read it to me.”
“She’s a reader, that girl,” Potts said over his shoulder as he shuffled to the counter to lock his money away.
Rieker smiled over at Tiki. “Yes, but does she know the story of Oliver Twist?” His eyes twinkled, and Tiki had the sudden suspicion that Rieker had already read the book he had just purchased. “It has a happy ending, you know,” he whispered, too low for Potts to hear.
So Rieker could read, too, she thought. Not a surprise, really, given his posh diction. Still, it made her wonder what other secrets he might have.
“Ready?” Rieker asked. He escorted Tiki to the door of the small shop, and Tiki could feel Mr. Potts’s eyes watching the two of them as they left.
“Thanks, Mr. Potts.” Tiki waved over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”
The old man waved a gnarled hand and turned back to straighten his stacks of newspapers.
“How did you know I was in there?” Tiki asked, suddenly suspicious.
Rieker shrugged, putting the book inside his jacket and sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Just a lucky guess. What were you doing in the back?”
Tiki hesitated. Somehow she needed to convince Rieker that it would be better to give the ring back to the royals so they could protect it again.
“I wrote out the note to the royals,” Tiki said quickly. “You know, the one for the reward.” She held her breath as she waited for Rieker’s reaction.
Rieker didn’t reply. He was silent as they walked, his eyes staring off into the distance. Tiki wondered if he was angry. The farther they walked, the more uncomfortable she got. Finally she stopped and tugged at his arm, forcing him to turn and face her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Tiki…” He sounded as if he were forcing himself to stay calm. “We can’t collect the reward if we’re not going to return the ring. Like I said before, I think the fey have infiltrated the royal circle. Right now, we don’t know who we can trust and who we can’t. If we tell the royal family where the ring is, its location could be revealed to the fey. We can’t take that chance.” Rieker gave her a pleading look. “Can’t you see, we just have to go back in and get the thing and let the reward go?”
“I am not letting the reward go.” Tiki was horrified at his suggestion. “Can’t you see that is the only way I can bring Clara home?” She could hear the hysterical note in her voice, but she couldn’t stop. “I have to be able to have a home. Someplace clean and warm where she won’t keep getting sick.”
“Why is she your responsibility?”
“Because she doesn’t have anybody else,” Tiki snapped. “She was lying in a pile of trash on the street when I found her. She was almost dead. She would have died if I hadn’t fed her and cared for her.” Tiki gritted her teeth to fight back the tears that suddenly pressed against her eyes.
“What if Shamus and Fiona had said the same thing about me when I was forced to run away? Even though I didn’t know how to survive on my own, I couldn’t stay with my uncle one day longer. He would drink and then he’d want to touch me—” She stopped abruptly. She didn’t want to think about him. Her voice got louder. “If Fiona hadn’t shown me how to pick a pocket, I probably would have starved to death that first month. Or been forced into being a beggar or a prostitute to feed myself.”
“Tiki, calm down.”
She took a deep breath and lowered her voice, but the urgency remained. “Even then, I barely survived. If they hadn’t let me live with them in Charing Cross, I might be the one lying in a pile of garbage today, half-dead.” Her anger fueled her nerve. “Look around you, Rieker. Can’t you see all the children who need help?” She flung out an arm. “They’re everywhere. Toots’ own mother threw him out when he was only nine years old because she couldn’t afford to feed him anymore. She had too many other children to care for. If their parents can’t or won’t do it, then who cares for the street childr
en? Somebody’s got to care.”
Incensed at his lack of understanding, Tiki jerked around and started to walk away, but Rieker’s hand shot out lightning fast and grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Tiki, wait…” As his fingers pressed against the cut on her arm, Tiki gasped with pain.
“What’s wrong?” Rieker looked down at her sleeve as if he already knew what he’d find. His grip tightened around her wrist, below the cuts, and his eyes locked on hers with a knowing look. Tiki wanted to pull away but doubted she could with Rieker holding her wrist so tight.
“You’re making a scene,” she said through clenched teeth. She looked around self-consciously and tugged on his arm to try to get him moving again. He didn’t budge.
“Where was she?” Rieker asked.
“Here in Charing Cross,” Tiki finally admitted. “I was walking from Mr. Potts’ shop.” Tiki shrugged as if the encounter had been nothing, even though her stomach was grinding uncomfortably.
“This was no accident, Tiki.” Rieker sounded furious. “Larkin must know you’re involved. Did she say anything?”
Tiki’s eyes met his. “She said she wants the ring.”
“No,” he whispered.
For a second, the emotionless expression that Rieker so often wore cracked and Tiki caught a glimpse of something that looked like desperation.
“That’s the other reason why I think we need to send the ransom note to the royals,” Tiki said hurriedly. “That way the fey will stop following me.”
Rieker’s hand slid from her wrist to her hand, and his fingers entwined in hers. Before she could move, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. Instead of being afraid, Tiki felt an odd sense of safety.
“Tiki, I understand why you want to protect Clara and the others. I really do,” he said softly, his lips against her hair. “It’s the same reason I want to protect you.”
Her head rested against his chest and she could hear the slow beat of his heart. She inhaled his scent and closed her eyes, a strange yearning pulling deep inside. If only she could trust him.
“But you don’t understand what’s been done.” His words were firmer now. “It’s not so simple as just giving the ring back. It needs to be protected.” He grasped her by the shoulders and held her away from him. “We can’t take the chance that there is a faerie spy within the royal circle.” He gave her a little shake. His eyes were dark, intense. “Don’t you see? If the truce is destroyed, there’s no going back. Ever.”
A surge of anger shot through her, and she jerked free from his grasp. “And don’t you see? I’ll never have another opportunity like this to get us out of Charing Cross. I have to pay the hospital, I have to find someplace clean to live. I have to find food for my family. I have to get that reward.”
Before Rieker could answer, Tiki turned and ran.
Chapter Nineteen
LEO rode low over Diablo’s neck, enjoying the wild rush of wind against his face. With weather like this, it was easy to believe the reports that a tornado had destroyed a barn and torn up several fields in Devonshire yesterday. His horse shied as the wind whipped the branches of a nearby tree from side to side in a feverish dance. Leo worked the reins with a firm hand, the bite of the cold air somehow sharpening his ability to think.
Tucked inside his jacket was a page where he had sketched the flowing lines and swirls he had seen on Elizabeth’s skin as he remembered them. There was one person who might know something about the strange mark.
Leo had known Mamie all of his life. His mother’s old lady-in-waiting was a fascinating woman, if a bit eccentric. She favored using herbs and flowers to tend to cuts and ills, and said the birds and plants spoke to her. As boys, he and Arthur had whispered that she was a witch, but a good witch. She had told them many interesting stories of faeries and legends of old as they were growing up, always as though the stories were true. There were a few, even now, that he couldn’t say were fact or fiction. If anyone would know if this mark meant something or not, it would be Mamie.
She lived at the far end of St. James’s Park in a cottage known fondly as the Birdkeeper’s Cottage, as her husband had for many years tended the black swans, pelicans, and other birds that lived in the park. Leo was pleased to see a feathery plume of smoke drifting from the brick of her chimney as he approached.
He pulled up to the small cottage and dismounted, tying the reins to the gnarled branch of a nearby apple tree. His knock sounded loud on the small wooden door, echoing in the still afternoon air. He shuffled his feet as he waited, nervous for no reason.
The old woman opened the door and blinked in surprise when she saw him standing there. “Prince Leopold?”
“Hello, Mamie.” Leo leaned down to kiss the remarkably soft skin of her cheeks. “How are you?”
“I’m well, dear boy, and you?” the old lady replied in a soft, melodic voice. She peered out the door and raised an eyebrow at him when she spotted the black horse grazing nearby. “Here on your own, are you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t think I needed an escort to ride in the park,” Leo said.
A corner of her wrinkled face lifted in a smile. “You always were one to do as you pleased, weren’t you?” She waved her hand at him. “Come in, come in. Did you see the hailstorm earlier?” She shuffled back inside. “Hail the size of chestnuts. It’s a message, sure as sure.”
Leo followed, ducking through the small frame of the door, debating whether to ask who would send a message of hail.
“Can I get you some tea, dear?” Mamie asked. “The kettle’s on. I’ve chamomile today.”
“Thank you, but no,” Leo said. “I can’t stay long.”
Mamie sank into an old wooden rocker with a worn floral cushion on the seat. The windows of the cozy room overlooked a long stretch of lake, with Buckingham Palace visible in the distance. Mamie reached for a delicate china teacup and took a sip, holding the cup and saucer cradled in her hands. “How is your mother?”
“She continues to decline. The doctors aren’t quite sure what to make of it.”
Mamie eyed the young prince. “Have you any word on the ring yet?”
A frown crossed Leo’s face. “Well, that’s getting to it straightaway. No, Mamie, there’s been no word on the ring. But there is something.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the paper, the page crackling as he unfolded it. He moved closer to the old woman, resting one knee on the floor to be at eye level with her.
“Have you ever seen a mark that looks something like this?” He held the drawing out for her to see.
The old woman set the teacup back on the little table and reached for the paper. She stared at the drawing in fascination and after a moment ran a crooked finger over the swirls. Without lifting her eyes, she asked, “Where did you get this?”
“I drew it.” Leo’s eyes moved from his drawing to Mamie’s face and back again, trying to decipher her reaction.
Her blue eyes searched his face. “You’ve always been an exceptional artist, Leo. Did you see this somewhere?”
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did.” His eyes flitted uneasily around the room. “It was a mark on someone’s arm. Very unusual, you see, and for some reason it caught my fancy, so I thought to draw it.” He gave Mamie what he hoped was a charming smile. “With your knowledge of nature and cures, you were the only one I could think of who might be able to explain it to me. Have you seen this mark before? Is it caused by some sort of ailment?”
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mamie’s voice had a hushed quality to it, as though the mark represented something sacred.
A surge of excitement blazed through Leo’s chest. “Yes. In a strange sort of way. But what is it?”
“An fáinne sí,” Mamie said softly. “The faerie ring.”
“A faerie ring?” Leo repeated. The sudden brightness he’d felt quickly turned to black despair. His suspicion that Elizabeth and the urchin had something to do with the disappearance of the ring flared
again.
Mamie looked over at him. “It is a mark of the fey.”
His stomach spiraled downward in a circle of dread as his worst fears were confirmed. Faeries. Arthur had been right. He stared down at the swirls and arcs that etched across the page. He could still see the same black lines dancing around Elizabeth’s thin wrist. He frowned at Mamie. “I thought a faerie ring was a circle of mushrooms growing in a field.”
Mamie smiled. “The fey do love to play jokes on mortals. The mushroom circle is one of their favorites.” She ran her fingers over the drawing again, a thoughtful expression on her face. “But a true faerie ring is not found on the ground. This particular mark is quite rare. It comes from a line of fey who were said to have died out centuries ago.” She raised her head to eye him curiously. “Who is it that bears the mark?”
Leo hesitated. “A girl at the masked ball. She was asking questions about Mother’s ring.”
Mamie frowned. “Someone at the party was marked?” Her hands tightened on the page. “Is anyone missing?”
“Missing?” Leo looked at her in surprise. “No. At least, not that I know of.”
Mamie didn’t release her grip. “You need to assign a guard to watch your mother at all times. And keep an eye on your sister. Baby is too young to protect herself.” She shook her head. “We’ve feared it for years, you know.”
“Feared what?”
“That the battle in the Otherworld would spill over into London again.” She was silent for a moment as her eyes traced the contours of his face. “You’re eighteen. Old enough now to know the truth.” She leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice. “There’s a spy in our midst, Leopold.”
Leo narrowed his eyes at the old woman. “A spy? What kind of spy?”
“Fey.” Mamie’s chin quivered. “We’ve never been able to figure out who it might be, exactly.” She sat back, a worried expression creasing her wrinkled face. “Until now, we thought we had stymied their attempts, but I’m afraid the ring gone missing changes everything. The stakes have been raised.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “There are some fey who will do anything to get the ring. Even murder.”
The Faerie Ring Page 15
