Midnight Falls: A Thrilling Retelling of Cinderella (36 page)

You are a murderer. As God is my witness, I will make you pay for betraying
…

Thurlow stopped suddenly, his body almost thrown forward from the halting of its momentum. He was alone but he still spoke aloud, his voice guttural and dejected.

“No!”

Gabriel Solange was dead. He was
dead
! Thurlow had seen the body with his own eyes. Those rejects from Kersley had found his body floating in the river. It was a fugitive they’d fished from the river; a criminal wanted for almost ten years for plotting an attack on King William. Conspiring a revolution that began with regicide. But Gabriel had escaped before he could face Thurlow’s judgment. The man had fled, his final tormented pledge still ringing in Thurlow’s ear.

I will make you pay for betraying my brother!

Benjamin Solange. Thurlow wanted to retch. He’d only met the younger brother once, but he was certain. He was named Gabriel. Thurlow began running. Where once three hours seemed a perpetual merry-go-round that would never end, it now was a clock that ticked like a stone rammed against his temples.

Seven of the Hussars, including Halsty, were drinking beer when Thurlow burst through the door, sweat dripping from his forehead. The men were startled. Not just because of their commander’s loud, unannounced entrance into one of the more pleasurable aspects of their conclave, but because it was Thurlow himself who had declared that he would have no more correspondence with the Hussars that night. He could not afford any suspicion by not remaining completely in the public eye during that night’s revelry.

“Commander,” Halsty exclaimed, setting down his tankard of rum. “What is it? Has something gone wrong?”

“Halsty,” Thurlow gasped, almost out of breath, “where are the other prisoners? The ones that we considered using tonight. Are they still in the lair?”

“Yes,” Halsty replied, perplexed. “Except for the Gypsy, who is being prepared in the dungeon, they are all still there. Why?”

“How many of them are there?”

“Sixteen.”

“All right. Listen to me carefully. Everything is still a go. Change nothing of our original plan. Halsty, you stay here and see that nothing goes amiss. I will be back shortly.”

“Where are you going?” a Hussar named Felix inquired. Thurlow did not reply. He simply turned and departed as rapidly as he had entered. Halsty quickly shared glances with his comrades and then went after Thurlow. As he caught up with him, Halsty had to carry out his query without slowing down.

“Sir,” he said breathlessly, “tell me what is going on. You can’t leave now. There are too many things riding on this night to have you run off now.”

“Don’t question me, Sergeant,” Thurlow snapped without pausing, “or you may find yourself without a chair when the music stops.”

“Sir?!”

“Listen to me, Halsty. There was a man, years ago, that tried to kill King William.”

“I know this, sir. Everyone knows this. You killed him.”

“I killed
that
man, yes. But there was another.”

“Who?”

“He had a brother, a younger brother. I had this man arrested as an accomplice to his elder brother’s attempted crime. He was imprisoned for a week in the lair but escaped. Each and every year, without fail, I sent a posse out to apprehend this fugitive and bring him back to me. For nine years, they failed. I offered a large reward for anyone that could offer information as to his whereabouts. Then, six years ago, some miscreants in Kersley stumbled upon a dead body floating in the river. They presented this body to me and claimed it was the fugitive, and that they had seen him several times before he drowned.”

Halsty stopped and aggressively took Thurlow’s elbow in his grasp, forcing the man to stop. “What are you saying, Captain?” Halsty demanded, his eyes as focused as Thurlow’s.

“It was him, Halsty,” Thurlow declared. “The dead body; it was that of Gabriel Solange. I know it. I saw it. But now…”

“Now what?”

Thurlow inhaled air he desperately needed. “Now I am not so sure,” he said, somewhat defeated. “I have to interrogate as many of those prisoners in the lair as possible.”

“Why?”

“Because there may be a chance that one of them knows for sure. The detainees are all grown men and one or more of them may know the truth about that body. I will make them tell me!”

“Sir,” Halsty sued, “stop and think about this! Have you forgotten what is going to happen tonight? This is the revolution. That is the only thing that matters. And you want to go and interrogate a bunch of grunts that probably know nothing about a man that may or may not even be alive? It makes no sense. Even if this Gabriel were indeed alive, why would he stay here in Gwent? He is a free man; if he wanted to stay free he would remain
dead
.”

“He has no interest in freedom.”

Halsty was taken back. He had never seen his commanding officer so shaken, so tremulous. Thurlow was a stoic, the rock of the Hussars. He never shied away from chaos. He instigated chaos and reaped the benefits of it gluttonously. For the first time in a very long time, James Halsty did not understand his master’s vision.

“Gabriel Solange, if he is alive, cares only about one thing,” Thurlow stated brazenly, “and that is avenging his dead brother. The man that I killed: Benjamin Solange. And if Gabriel is still alive, he might very well be posing as the Duke of Ebersol. Now do you see why it is of some consequence to me, Halsty? I have to know. My life existed long before I met you, Sergeant. I have my own demons, not just the ones I share with you all for the sake of our mutual beliefs.”

“Then let me kill him,” Halsty replied with zeal. “Even if he is your fugitive or just some overblown pompous prick pretending to be a duke, it doesn’t matter. I will kill him. First thing in the morning, I will hunt him out.”

Thurlow chortled. “I’ve learned that killing a person does not eradicate their legacy or undo the damage they may have caused,” he professed. “And killing an enigma only makes it that much more seductive. The truth is the only real weapon you can wield against tyrants like that. I will learn the truth one way or another. For if Gabriel Solange and the Duke of Ebersol are one and the same, it means there is one
more
person that knows this truth and therefore must die. It is something that I cannot be so flippant about as this particular woman is and always has been more alluring to me alive than dead.”

James Halsty looked intently at his commander. He struggled to understand. Thurlow broke the stare and proceeded, alone, down the remainder of the corridor. Before he vanished into the lightless basement of the castle keep, he hollered back toward Halsty.

“Nothing has changed; our revolution will still take place. I will return in time. And if you even think of countermanding me, Sergeant, I will inflict a punishment on you that will make you dream of death.”

I am sorry…I would tell you that I love you, but you already know that I do.

Gabriel waited, concealed, in the crisp moonlight. Fifteen years here, two hours there…what was the difference? It would all be over soon. His heart was dead; his body would soon be a relic of the same tragedies that plagued even the ancient parable of life itself. He had never considered his own story like that of Cain and Abel. For Cain loathed Abel and Gabriel loved his brother. But still he ruminated on whether the story of the gospel was all it professed to be. What if it had not been Cain that killed his younger brother but the devil, knowing that seducing Cain to murder Abel was not nearly as damning to the soul as his committing each hour of the rest of his life to getting even for it?

Gabriel was no fool. He understood God’s gospel, or enough of it. His grandmother had been a supremely pious woman. She always believed her spiritual resolve to be wasted on her youngest grandson but it wasn’t. Just because he doubted the strength of the higher power didn’t mean he denied it. But freeing himself from fifteen years of entanglement in the devil’s knot was impossible, even if the one that begged him to do it was an angel.

But the way he had dismissed his angel was unforgivable.

I am sorry…I would tell you that I love you, but you already know that I do
.

Ella was entitled to more than that. His life would not end, whether by Thurlow’s blade or his own sword in Thurlow’s heart, until she knew his love was the gospel truth.

Chapter Thirty-One

“Aislinn!” Isolda shouted through the door, “Come out here now! There is not much time.”

What was taking so long? Isolda could scarcely keep from running in place to quell her restlessness. Aislinn opened her chamber door. She was astounded to see her mother so distempered. Her hair was disheveled and a thin sheet of perspiration rested across her forehead. Even her gown hung awkwardly.

“Good, you’re still wearing your splendid dress. Fix your hair, child,” Isolda ordered, “right away. This is it! This is our chance!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Midnight. It will all happen at midnight! You will go back to the castle, looking as splendidly as you did this evening, and have your own rendezvous with Prince Leopold. Oh my goodness, it is almost too magical to be real!”

Aislinn felt a hint of excitement tingle her heart, but she was too tired and much too disconcerted by the contents of the entire evening, before and during the ball, to maintain it.

“I couldn’t agree more, Mother,” she said flatly. “It does seem a little too magical to be real, seeing as the prince didn’t even spare me a second glance tonight.”

“He was interrupted, darling. He’d barely a chance to speak with anyone.”

“Except Ella. He found time to speak with her.”

Isolda’s eyes became irate.

“Don’t question your mother,” she said brashly, “I will take care of my family. And I have ensured that you have the time with Prince Leopold that you are entitled to. That is all you need, Aislinn. Just some time alone with him to convince him you are the best woman to be his wife; that you are the best woman to take his side as queen. Don’t pay any more mind to Ella. She won’t even be there tonight. I’ve seen to that.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she will be otherwise engaged with the man that truly fancies her.”

“Who?”

“Captain Thurlow, that’s who. It seems he has his own plans with Ella tonight. Leopold is all ours!”

“Ella hates Thurlow.”

“Do you want to marry Leopold or not?”

“Yes, but I—“

“Stop wasting time, Aislinn! Just do what I tell you. Tidy yourself up and take the second carriage to the castle at half past eleven. That gives you just over an hour to get ready.”

“Where are
you
going?” Aislinn asked as her mother was already striding down the hallway.

“Just be there!” she called out from the beginning of her descent down the spiral staircase. “Don’t let me down, child.”

Ella’s head was resting against the cold window pane, one knee bent on the window stoop, the other leg dangling back and forth below her as she watched the wind rustle the branches of her favorite almond-leaved willow tree. She and her father had planted the sapling and though it was still fragile and small, it withstood the wind effortlessly.

She hadn’t cried. Not yet. She was still tracing her emotions back to her last conversation with Gabriel, remembering each single word she’d spoken. Had he even heard any of it? Ella was tired, but feared going to sleep. In the morning, there would be nothing but emptiness where her heart once was. There would be prayers rendered like chants to the heavens for the mercy of forgetfulness, the gift of indifference. Gabriel would not be there and with each new second she’d teach herself to forget him and accomplish the goal. She would buoy her spirits by reminding herself she could love again or that Gabriel was right: he did not deserve her. Complete success with each second, over and over again.

How had this happened to her?
Will those words be carved into my tombstone?
Ella squinted her eyes. Was that a carriage coming down the drive?

It can’t be? Please, let it be him
…