Missing Lily (Tales of Dalthia) (21 page)

Be wise, dear boy.

Your uncle, Myren.

Now I was even more confused. “He planned to kidnap the woman he’s in love with?”

“Apparently.”

“And what does my family have to do with it?”

“In reality? Very little. In Tobias’s mind? This young lady rejected him because he does not have a title, and the reason he had no title is because of the royal family and the men they choose to bestow titles on.”

“That makes no sense.”

He shrugged. “It’s Tobias.”

I skimmed the letter again. “Your uncle doesn’t think much of you.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

His dry remark made me smile. “The way he writes, it’s like he thinks of Tobias as a lad.”

Rhys leaned his shoulder into a tree. “Myren has always favored Tobias, and Tobias idolized him during his younger years. I think it’s Myren’s way of trying to maintain that relationship.”

I blew out a breath, trying to take it all in. The entire situation was utterly foolish, but from what I knew of Tobias, it made a twisted kind of sense.

“Well, I’m glad to know. That’s one less worry.”

“What are your other worries?” His brows were drawn together, concern in his eyes.

A sense of falling back in time left me still. I stared out at the setting sunlight slanting across the hazy air. Sunshine’s coat gleamed orange as she cantered across the far end of the pasture, her head held high. Rhys’s words were so similar to the ones I had spoken.

“Didn’t we have this conversation once already?” I asked, still gazing at the golden scene before me.

“Yes, but our roles were reversed. I complained to you about heavy responsibilities, never realizing how insignificant those worries must have sounded to someone in your position.”

“Perhaps my position allowed for a greater degree of empathy.” I looked over at him, hoping he would believe in my sincerity—then, as well as now.

“I never doubted your capacity for empathy.”

I smiled despite the stinging of my eyes and looked away from the intensity of his gaze.

“Tell me one of your worries,” he prodded quietly.

His unreserved attention made my heart pound, and I blew out a quiet breath to calm myself. All of my most immediate worries centered around him, so I had to think of another.

“I worry that my dismissal of Lord Wisen was unjust and unkind.”

“Could your relationship with him have been a lasting one?”
 

Could it? Perhaps if I had never met Rhys. But I had, so the answer had to be, “No. It would not have lasted.”

“Then I believe your choice was just indeed.”

I tried to think of something lighthearted or witty, but nothing came to mind, and as I stood there, feeling his eyes on me, heat started to claw its way up my neck. I pushed away from the tree. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Fallon.”

He bent his head in deference after a moment of hesitation, and I walked out to the fence to see if I could get Sunshine to come over. I was surprised when she answered my whistle, trotting over for some attention.

When I turned back, Rhys was gone and I let out a sigh. I stroked Sunshine’s neck for only a few moments before heading back to the castle myself.

When I drew close to the palace entrance, I saw that Rhys hadn’t gone inside, but stood on the steps, looking toward the gate. I turned to see what had caught his attention.

“Willow!” I shouted as I recognized my horse being led across the drive by a guard. I ran to her, stroking her head and allowing her to take in my scent. She pushed her nose into my shoulder, begging for more attention. “Where have you been?” I whispered in her ear as she nickered and continued to push into me. “What happened to you?”

She snorted in agitation and tossed her head toward a group of soldiers farther down the drive. A prisoner was held between them. I was confused until he took a sudden, menacing step toward me and was immediately brought to his knees by those holding him. I stumbled back, bumping into Nathaniel as he pulled me behind him before approaching the man. As I stared in mute horror, Willow stepped in front of me, blocking me with her shoulder. I fisted my hands into her mane, grateful for her presence as I leaned around her to see the prisoner glaring up at Nathaniel as the guards hauled him to his feet once more. My body started to tremble. This was the black clad horseman who had pursued me into the night.

He snarled at Nathaniel then turned his ugly glare to me. His eyes held malicious fire. I tried to look away, but was held transfixed until I felt a comforting hand on the small of my back. Rhys stood by me, his cold glare fixed on the horseman until he was dragged away.

Nathaniel hurried over to me. “Princess, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” My voice was distracted and weak.

“We should take Willow back to the stables.”
 

I nodded, staring after the prisoner. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes raking over me from hair to slippers before the guards forced him to face forward. I snapped out of my stunned horror when Willow nudged my shoulder. I stroked her neck in an effort to soothe myself as much as her.

“Shall I call a groom?” Nathaniel asked.

I shook my head. “No, I’ll take her to the stables myself. She needs some extra care.”

He bowed, and both he and Rhys walked a step behind me as I made my way to the stables, murmuring soothing words to Willow. I put her in her stall and looked her over myself, checking for any damage that might have been done during her time away from me. Satisfied, I took on the task of rubbing her down, allowing the steady stroking rhythm to calm my mind.

I stayed with Willow for a long time. I was vaguely aware of Rhys and Nathaniel’s presence. They stood in the stable doorway, speaking quietly. As I combed Willow’s coat, over and over, the different possibilities of what she might have endured marched through my mind, making my chest overly tight. How had the horseman been apprehended? Who was he, and what did he want with me? Why had he kept Willow, when she was marked as a palace horse? Did he not know she would be recognized? And what of Nathaniel? The man’s aggression hadn’t been for me alone, but for Nathaniel as well. I couldn’t make sense of it.

My musings were interrupted by the captain of the guard. Nathaniel gave him a sharp salute.
 

“We need your assistance with the interrogation of the prisoner.” The captain was never one to mince words.

“Of course,” Nathaniel answered.

“Might I be present?” The words left my mouth the instant I thought them.

All three men turned in surprise.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that man,” Rhys objected.

His concern was touching, but I kept my eyes on the captain, waiting for his opinion. He looked me over, then shrugged. “I don’t see any harm in the princess watching from the observation room.”

“Observation room?” Rhys asked.

“She will be able to see the interrogation, but the prisoner will not be able to see her.”

Rhys considered for a moment then nodded. “Do you have any objection to my observing as well?”

The captain shook his head and led the way out of the stable. Nathaniel and Rhys waited while I put away the brush I’d been using, then walked a step behind as I followed the captain.

The observation room shared a wall with the room where Nathaniel would be questioning the man, but the floor was several feet higher. There was a slit in the wall, covered by a grate that allowed us to see down into the interrogation room.

I looked through the grate to see the man already seated at a rough wooden table. He was large, worn down and filthy, with dull eyes and heavy shackles on his wrists. He didn’t fidget or move at all. Only his eyes shifted when Nathaniel opened the door and entered.

“Thought I might see you eventually.” The man’s voice rumbled from behind his beard.

Nathaniel sat, calm and confident. “You recognize me?”

His shackled hands clanked as he tapped a lazy finger against his temple. “Excellent mem’ry.”

“Well then, let me introduce myself formally. My name is Nathaniel. And you are?”

“Jon Barns.”

“Mr. Barns, why don’t you use that excellent memory of yours to tell me your reasons for attacking a member of the royal family.”

Jon gave a derisive snort. “Royal family. Always puttin’ on airs, thinkin’ their life be worth more than ours, thinkin’ the life o’ their child be worth more than the life of ours.”

My brow furrowed as Nathaniel spoke. “I’m surprised you would risk the noose when you have children that depend on you.”

“Didn’t say I had children.”

“Pardon me. You made it sound as though the royal family had somehow devalued the life of your child.”

His lip curled as he snarled, “Not mine. My brother’s.”

Nathaniel held his gaze, unflinching. “Was your brother one of the men who met my sword?”

“He were only trying to defend his own and you run ‘im through like he weren’t nothin’.”

“What of the other man?”

He shrugged. “Paid him a bit. Never knew his name.”

“You ambushed the princess. Why?”

“I’m loyal to me and mine, and my brother asked it of me.”

“Why did you steal the princess’s horse?”

Nathaniel’s abrupt change surprised me just as much as it surprised Jon Barnes. “I found that horse. Why not keep it?”

“You didn’t change its appearance at all.” I could see Nathaniel’s mind working. “Perhaps you wanted the horse to be recognized.”

“I’m not such a fool as that,” he sneered with a mocking tilt of his chin. “That horse was valuable and dead useful.”

“I find it curious that you have answered each of my questions thus far when you have been unwilling to answer the captain.”

His chains scraped together as he settled his arms across his chest once more. “He wasn’t the one I wanted to meet.”

“And I am?”

“Just wanted to see you face to face, to be sure you knew the kind of people you protect. Wanted you to know whose father it was you killed.”

Nathaniel leaned back, studying the man. “By all means. Educate me.”

“I suppose you think you’re right noble for protectin’ the royals. But they don’t care a nut for no one but themselves. My brother was a good man, a fine man. Wanted nothin’ but to take care of his wife and littles the best he could. So when his little girl’s foot was crushed under the hoof of his fool donkey, he rushed her, fast as he could, to the doctor. Then the royals come along. They was in our town for naught but frivolous reasons, I’m sure. And ’cause the royals think their lives is worth more, the doctor spends all his time pamperin’ naught but a cut on the wee princess’s hand ’stead of tendin’ to a peasant girl’s maimed foot.”

Everything settled into place and I understood what had happened. I had been eleven years old and we had gone to the seaside for a family holiday. I had fallen on the beach, my hand landing on the sharp edge of a broken shell.

Jon continued, his eyes unfocused, caught up in the memory. “Little Abby’s foot just sat there, bleeding and covered in muck. It were infected, and the infection moved up her leg so that now it pains her each step she tries to take. It’s been years and still, she can hardly walk, much less dance around whenever she has a spare minute, the way she used to. Like a little sprite she was, flittering here and there.” He shifted his angry gaze back to Nathaniel. “Not anymore. And it broke her da’s heart. The royals destroyed my brother as surely as they was responsible for my niece bein’ a cripple.”

“So you decided to reap your revenge on the princess?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “My brother thought a maimed foot would be fitting.”

I fled the observation room, unable to keep my emotions in check. I ran down the first corridor I came upon, wanting only to get away and ignoring the footsteps following after me.

A hand took hold of my arm and I spun to face Rhys. “It was a scratch!” The words spilled out. “It was nothing. But my parents insisted I be taken to a doctor. The moment we arrived, he focused only on me. I remember my mother asking if he had other patients that needed his attention, and he insisted that there was no one else. But there was! Some poor child was left suffering while the doctor cleaned and re-cleaned, treated and wrapped and re-wrapped a scratch that likely would have been fine all on its own. All because I was royalty. That man is right!” I shouted, jabbing a finger in the direction of the interrogation room. “My
comfort
was put far above the
life
of that little girl, and look what it did to her—to her father! He’s dead because of me.”

Rhys studied my face, sympathy written in his features. “Yes, the father was hurt. Yes, the child was neglected. But not by you and not by your parents. It was the choice of the doctor to put your needs above his other patient. Not only that, but that child’s father decided that your life meant nothing. That you should be physically punished for a situation entirely beyond your control. He got himself and some other poor fool killed, and his brother will likely follow, for the sake of a grudge that should have never taken root, certainly not against you.”