In truth, Peter had to admit that he rather enjoyed the dread of danger. He doubted he would ever admit it; after all, he was Peter, teller of stories, the trickster. Such a man was not to love cold-blooded terror, to find it pleasurable. Well, he didn't find it 'pleasurable', whatever that word was to mean. But King Cherdith's realm was a peaceful one, and days and days and years and years of only the problem of mischief took their toll on one's mind. He was a soldier, a guard, trained to protect. It was in his blood, and the rush of power through his muscles was terribly exhilarating, like fire inside of himself. A lifetime of laziness did not suit him. But Lord Orson was hardly cold in his grave and the servant girl Caroline was missing, possibly dead. Well, he still felt the protector. Discovering what happened to Caroline was his mission.
He was practically thinking a fantasy. He was not the hero of this story, he was a head guard devoted to protecting those in the palace.
His mind, at least, was ready for a happy ending.
He moved silently down the hallway, aware of every slight sound of mouse and footstep. His hand, now sweaty, gripped the handle of his sword. Years had passed since he had last used the sword for its true purpose, but hours of practice and playtime had kept warm his skills. Hopefully. He stopped once to focus entirely on listening. Nothing.
This was the northern hall, a well-used spot of the palace. Any other given time it would have been a most crowded venue, and the clear emptiness was eerie. Everyone had been instructed to remain in the ballroom, save the guards.
Peter hoped he wouldn't kill the first of his men to jump from around a corner.
His men. Where were they? He should have avoided the hypocrisy and waited for one of the boys. It was stupid for anyone to be alone at a time like this, even a guard. Though he was sure they could hold their own, even Hyrum. No, certainly Hyrum. He had appeared from nowhere only a few months before, and already he had proven himself to be everything. At least, he had proven himself in all the available opportunities. But he had shown chivalry when he insisted on going after Lake Miller.
Despite everything, Peter allowed himself a small chuckle. Hyrum was a stone on the outside, but he certainly had his soft spots.
He took a deep breath and resumed walking. Daylight dimmed through the windows with approaching sunset, and the occasional flaming sconce appeared all the brighter. Definitely eerie.
Peter closed his eyes for a moment. He had heard once that stopping one sense would increase the power of another.
He heard something, distant.
He almost smiled. This was getting exciting. Opening his eyes, he picked up his pace. The hall would soon branch out into various corridors. He had to select the right one. His sword readied itself.
The man jumped out with a pounding scream, metal glinting in the faint light. Peter pressed upwards with his blade, a screech accompanying the clash of swords, just enough deflect the blade past the face of his attacker.
His sword could do no further damage. In fact, Peter almost dropped it. "Your Majesty?"
"Peter?" Prince Isaac's face was red, a rather recent blast of color in an otherwise flushed face. His sword actually did hit the ground as his arms fell limp to his side. "I almost killed you."
As if the Prince had enough sword play to do that. Peter smiled inwardly. Then again, Prince Isaac was better than many. "I also was ready to use my sword, Your Majesty."
That was when the first blast of humiliation hit him. It would have been a very bad thing to kill King Cherdith's only son, and he and Prince Isaac were on friendly terms. "Forgive me, please."
Isaac nodded listlessly, his gaze on the floor. "No, you are fine. I just... I just need to catch my breath. I know you're a wonderful swordsman, Peter, so I fully recognize my brush with death." He forced a smile. Anything coming from Prince Isaac's face at that time had to be forced. He seemed more of a ghost than a living soul.
"That would have been a most shameful thing, my Prince." Peter took a deep breath. "You're supposed to be in the ballroom. Your father is there, and he insists upon your presence. We can't protect you if you're wandering around out here."
The first true expression arrived, and it was one of annoyance. "I would hardly refer to what I was doing as 'wandering', Peter. I have just as much reason to be out here as you do, perhaps more."
Oh? That was an interesting reply, and Peter had his suspicions ready. "Your Highness, why do we lock everyone up at the death of a servant girl and yet do next to nothing when a member of the court is killed? I mean, besides the obvious fact that the death of two individuals from entirely separate classes is something of a higher threat, but I think you have higher reasons."
Prince Isaac's mouth twitched upwards in a half-smile. "You know me too well, Peter."
"Years."
"Caroline's body has not been found. That means there is still hope she's alive." Now the Prince's eyes were locked on Peter's own, demanding that his statement was nothing but the entire truth. "It is my fault, whatever has happened to her. We were to meet, as I'm sure palace gossip has let you know. If I had not arranged this meeting, she might have been safe."
And that confirmed his Peter's suspicions. It was almost worthy a laugh, had the situation not been so grim. He leaned back, realizing that the entire time one half of each of his ears had been listening for any one else and had found nothing. "We have looked everywhere for Caroline."
Prince Isaac did not blink. "Not everywhere."
"A stranger would not know of the old passages."
But he just shook his head. "I insist they be searched. I will do so myself, if I must."
"So you gave all the gold your sister Lake spun to the poor and to the homeless? That is remarkably sweet." Andrea leaned her head against Jay's shoulder. Evening was nearly upon them, and they had not yet returned to the palace. Jay wasn't sure when Andrea was expected back at her duties, but it really wasn't a question that bothered him. They had found a fallen tree, riddled with moss, that made the perfect bench among the standing trees, tall like soldiers. He could stay there forever, it seemed, with her leaning against him, smelling so wonderful.
"Yes," he replied. "It seemed the only right thing to do. My sister had been blessed with a gift, and everyone knows that when a gift is given it should be used for the benefit of mankind."
She smiled gently. "How lovely."
Sadly enough, he didn't feel too much guilt in lying to her. A small part of his brain told him that he should feel guilt, enough to drive all the truth out. But it just wasn't strong enough a desire. People were people, and it wasn't always the most brilliant idea to go let the world know if one was a half-fairy. The story that Lake was the spinner had worked for years and Jay saw no reason to change it, even if it were a lie. People just weren't always accepting of the idea that one might be a half-fairy. His father had told him to never tell anyone about himself, and he agreed. The gold-spinning illusion had always been a family secret, and it was best that it stay that way.
Besides, soon enough he and his family would be gone, taking a fresh load of treasure to their stash in the cave, and Andrea would be nothing more than a fond memory. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea too much, but it was the truth, and he accepted this. He barely knew Andrea, after all. But he did like her, what he knew. He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders, breathing in the scent of her hair. "And now I guess you know the family secret."
Andrea shrugged. "I guess I do, though I'm not sure if I would call it a secret. Word spreads quickly around the palace, and we all knew that Lake Miller was spinning gold for King Cherdith. One can't keep that a carefully guarded secret, Jay Miller."
"I suppose you're right." He planted a kiss on her forehead.
She giggled and brushed his face away. Her fingers tingled on his cheeks. "Do you have any magical gifts, Jay?"
If that wasn't a question he had heard before. Sometimes all that was known was that William Miller had only a daughter, and sometimes a son was discovered wandering around the palace. It didn't matter, but on the latter occasions that question was sometimes pressed. If only they knew. "No, I'm afraid I don't have any." He was half-tempted to perform a small trick for her, something to make her laugh, like make a flower appear in his hands.
"How odd that only Lake can spin gold."
He laughed. Somewhere a bird chirped mirthfully, as if it had been listening in. "You find it odd that only one person can spin gold? Do you think that everyone can?"
"You twist my words. No, it is a miracle what she can do." She sighed and sat up, away from his side, though her hand lingered upon his own. "I wish I could do something like that. Not spin gold, though it would be useful to have some nice things. But we get by all right, my father and brother and I, better than many and I am grateful for that. But..." She sighed again and looked up into the graying sky. "I wish I were special. All the other girls have their gifts. Caroline is beautiful and charming, Kathryn isn't afraid of anything, and Hannah looks like a veritable angel." She grinned shyly. "Veritable. Do you like it? I hear the king using it. It has something to do with truth, I think."
Other people would have felt a twinge of guilt at that, Jay mused. But she was only showing off a vocabulary. So many other village girls were no where nearly that clever. "I love it. I think it's a great word."
"I do like to learn," she continued. "I try to read, when I get the chance. Everyone does. Can you read?"
Of course he could. Mary had taught Lake and him both from the start. "I enjoy reading."
She nodded, apparently glad. She looked so beautiful when she was happy. "I'm afraid I just don't enjoy it as much as other people do. Do you see what I mean? I'm just a quiet little servant."
He squeezed her hand. She had to be joking with him. "How can you be a quiet little servant girl when you talk so much?"
She met his eyes boldly. Surprising. "Jay, you talk much more than I thought you would, so I think it's hardly proper you say such things. The moment I first saw you that other night, I thought..."
Something in the trees rustled, cutting Andrea off as her eyes turned upwards. "What was that?" She didn't seem afraid, only surprised.
Jay glanced up as well. The leaves still wriggled faintly, energy remaining from what passed through, but that was all. "A racoon, perhaps?" he suggested.
Somewhere above a branch cracked. The sound was too big for a racoon or another animal.
"I've never been out here in the dark," Andrea whispered with the first hint of fear. "Not in the woods, and I know it isn't yet dark, but it's strange just the same. Do you think that was an animal?"
Jay shook his head. No, he did not think it was an animal.
She hopped from the log, hands clasped in front of her. "I should be getting back. It's terribly late and I probably have things I should be doing and Caroline is probably so worried."
But he didn't want her to leave, not yet. He pursed his lips and followed the shaking leaves. "That's not an animal, Andrea."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
He shook his head once more and hopped from the log with as much silence as he was given, which was plenty. Like a cat treading, he slipped through the trees, back to main path, Andrea at his heels.
More branches cracked, the sound echoing like ripples in a pond. One in particular was followed by an even stranger sound, a muffled scream. Human.
He walked faster.
"Jay," Andrea whispered, with nothing to follow.
Something was definitely above them, watching.
Then, with a horrible crack, two large portions of an aspen limb shattered to the ground, along with a young boy with skinned elbows. The boy scrambled to his feet, face red.
Jay almost laughed. "Timber Wood, you had be scared!"
"I didn't know it was you, Jay!" Timber stammered. "I thought it was the murderer! I was trying to get away, but then I fell and..."
"You were trying to run away through the tree tops?"
Timber shrugged. "I didn't think anyone would look up there."
He did have a good point. "But you sure made an awful lot of noise."
Another shrug. "Please don't tell my mama. She'll be furious that I'm out here this late. I didn't tell her where I was going, and I thought that..." His eyes fell upon Andrea. "Who's this?"
Andrea smiled warmly. "I'm Andrea, I work at the palace. You had me scared, as well. You're a very scary little boy."
Bad idea. The compliment puffed Timber up to the size of a pony. "Yeah, well, I try my best."
Rina Wood would not be at all pleased. "Your mother doesn't know you're here?"
"No. If I told her I was going all the way to the palace, she would have never let me leave!"
Jay rolled his eyes, though he understood perfectly that logic. "When did you leave?"
"Earlier today. There was a quiet spot at the tavern, so I headed out."
No, Rina would be worried sick, enough to kill Timber. Why did this have to happen while he was with Andrea? With one quick motion he grabbed the boy by the arm and threw him, kicking and punching, over his shoulder. "I'm taking you home." He didn't think it would be too much trouble; he could run back to Wheat Hill and back in very little time. Little pest, coming all the way up here.
"Put me down!" Timber shouted, sending a kick almost straight into Jay's stomach. "Put me down!"
Little brat. "No, I'm taking you home to your mother."
"But I know about the murderer!"
The murder of Lord Orson. Oh, yes. "Andrea, I'm sorry, but he belongs back at his home."
She nodded, understanding.
"But I know about the murderer!" Timber repeated loudly. "If you take me back home, I can't tell you about the murderer! And the girl knows!"
They had all told him that Timber was known for making up stories. "How could you possibly know about the murderer?"
"I saw him! Not an hour ago!" The boy was twisting now, desperate to escape. But Jay was no weakling. "He's a man. He's from another kingdom, and he was sent here to find a girl. A princess that ran away. But he found the wrong one, and now he needs to find the right princess."
Wow. What a story. "And what do you expect to do about it?"
"Put me down!" Timber screamed. And with that, a spark of flame hit the back of Jay's shoulder.
With a yelp, Jay let Timber slide to the ground. Andrea was already beating the flame out of his shirt.
"What was that?" she demanded of Timber. "You held no matchsticks, and yet I saw the flame appear... there, Jay, the flame is gone. But it came from nowhere!"
Timber stared up from the ground, face tight with anger. "I don't make fire a lot, but I can do it. I can make other things, too."
Jay stared. How could a boy make fire from nothing?
"And you can do it, too, Jay."
Jay shook his head. "I can't make fire. Not without tools."
"But you do other things," the boy insisted. "The wood chopping... most of the time you do it yourself, if the girls are watching. But I've seen you do it other times. You just talk to the tree, and the wood splits itself."
A slow horror began to fill Jay. No one was supposed to have seen those times. He shook his head. "Timber, I don't know what you think you saw or anything else, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
Face unchanging, Timber held up his hands. Flames sputtered from his fingertips. "Sometimes I help cook. And I think you've been doing stuff at the palace. I can sneak up here, too, just like you. I found out all about the murderer."
"How do you make that fire?" Jay demanded.
Timber's face finally broke into the familiar smile. "My grandmother was a fairy, and I think you have fairy blood, too."
"What?" Andrea asked. "Jay, is this true?"
"He's lying," Jay said at the same time that Timber gave an exuberant "yes". He turned to her, expecting her to see this as all a joke. But her eyes were serious.
Why did women become so dramatic and serious over everything?
"Andrea," he said. "He's a child. He's making up things."
"Am not!"
"You can do magic," she said softly. "I believe this boy. You can do magic."
Well, was it so horrible if she knew his secret? He took a deep breath. "Yes, I can. You've found me out."
"You admitted it!" Timber cheered.
"You lied to me!" she said, voice suddenly louder.
"I didn't lie!" he replied. "It's my secret!"
She shook her head. "I told you all about how I wanted to be special, and I asked you about your sister's gold-spinning, and you didn't say one word about yourself!"
That was true. He shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. "I didn't want to scare you."
"Did you ever do magic on me?"
The question took him back. "Why would I do magic on someone?"
Her beautiful eyes narrowed. "You can't answer with another question," she hissed. "I... I don't know how I feel about this. I'm going back." She turned and ran down the path.
"Sorry," Timber muttered.
Jay thought going after her, but he was too angry. Why was she so upset? Only somewhere deep in his mind did he recall that Timber had said something about a murderer.