Part 4

Chapter Nineteen

When she had thundered off into the wilderness, Annamaria hadn't anticipated getting lost herself. Get away front the palace, yes. Ditch Jared, sure. But get hopelessly lost in the middle of the woods? Absolutely not!

"Ohhh!" The princess cried out in frustration and threw down her handkerchief —wet with all of her crying— pounding it into the ground with her boot. "How unfortunate! How ghastly! How… unfair!" She wasn't one to normally throw a temper tantrum, but when you're alone in the forest, even princesses can get away with some things. "This isn't fair! This just isn't fair! Ohhh!"

The anger did little to comfort her, and she fell on her knees in tears. "Why me?" she sobbed pathetically—and she knew very well it was pathetic, "Why do these bad things always happen to me? I can never find happiness. There's never enough jewelry, the only person I ever loved is murdered, and now… now this!"

And then it got worse.

Annamaria looked over to see that her horse had found a bush very much to his liking and was nibbling away. She quickly ran over to him and pulled him away, not wanting the horse to get indigestion from the odd weed, "No, no, Evangeline. You'll spoil your appetite."

The horse whinnied in response and pulled on his bridle.

"No. Absolutely not! The last thing we need is for you to get sick!"

Evangeline whinnied again in protest and this time another whinny was heard in response. The princess stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide as they scanned the bushes listening for more. Another horse? Someone was nearby. As she listened more closely, she could hear some approaching hoof beats as the other horse whinnied again and hers replied.

"Shhh …" Annamaria stepped back from the bushes, watching as a horse rode by with two passengers, slowly trudging through underbrush. She worked quickly to silence her own stallion, not wanting to be seen. After all, there are robbers in the woods, among other dangers., and Annamaria was no fool.

One of the passengers was talking, "You know, it wasn't originally in my plan to go on like this. I just have this temper, you know? Lose it sometimes and then that's that. Not that any of that matters. No one really understands. It's so hard to get understood in this part of the country, you know? Well, of course. I forgot whom I was speaking to."

The princess listened earnestly. She could have sworn she had heard that voice before. She motioned for her horse to wait and drew closer to the bushes as the voice continued.

"You'd think a man could be free to make his own way in life, aspire, see his dreams come to a head, but no. No, no, no. Nobody ever listens to me; that's why it has to be this way. Really, it's nothing against you. Nothing against you at all. And when this is all over, you'll probably forget that any of this ever happened."

Annamaria paused, finally recognizing the voice. Of course! But what on earth would he be doing in this part of the forest? And who was that with him? She called out, "Eric?"

The strange horse stopped suddenly as one of the riders pulled on its bridle, "Who's there?"

Annamaria quickly got upon her own horse and cantered towards them. "Eric! It's me, Annamaria!" She soon made it to a clearing, so happy to see someone familiar that she was nearly gasping in relief. It actually surprised her that seeing Eric could ever make her this happy.

"Annamaria?" Eric looked at her in shock, as did his fiery-haired companion. It was the girl from the ball, Anna recognized her instantly, but she refused to let that spoil her relief over finding some help. "Anna, what on earth are you doing here?

"I went for a ride," she replied.

"Alone?"

"No, not alone. Jared went with me, but the two of us got separated a while back and when I couldn't find my way—" She sniffled, deciding that tears were the best way to get his pity. Princesses always got pitied when they were crying. Nobody wanted to see a princess cry. Absolutely nobody. Unfortunately, her plan didn't work out exactly as she had hoped. She had forgotten whom she was dealing with.

Eric looked at her sharply, "Shut up. It's nothing to cry about. Where were you headed?" She could tell he was suspicious of her story. Unfortunately, he knew her well enough to know she wasn't a complete weakling.

She quickly dried her tears with a handkerchief. "To your kingdom. I wanted to pay our parents a visit," she lied, knowing he would be angered if he knew her real plan.

"Mother and Father? Why?"

"Well, because they get awfully lonely now with you away and they enjoy my visits. Anyway, you can't expect me to want to hang around my own castle after finding that ghastly surprise in my armoire."

"What surprise?"

"Oh, Eric. Don't you at least read the newspaper anymore?" he didn't reply, so she continued, "Anyways, you really must take me to Valore. If I don't arrive soon, your parents will be worried."

"Fair enough," he nodded, sighing, "I was headed that way myself, anyways."

Annamaria still wondered what he was doing out there with that girl, "Well, then lead the way."

"Alright." She had expected him to stall, but he didn't. He instead headed off in one direction at a brisk canter and she followed in haste hoping that she would be able to break away from him before they reached the castle. She didn't really want to go there and it would be best if Eric's parents didn't know she was in town either. She was hosting her own investigation, after all, and princesses weren't supposed to be involved in such matters.

"How goes the investigation?" Annamaria asked several miles later, feeling that the air had grown too quiet and that she needed some conversation. Even if just with Eric and his lovely companion.

"Investigation?" Eric questioned.

"Yes, silly. You were looking into the murder of that violinist, remember? What have you found?"

Eric shrugged, avoiding her gaze, "Not much."

"Well then why don't you tell me what you do know?"

Eric tensed. He seemed to be growing agitated, "Drop it. I'll contact you as soon as I know anything solid, alright?"

Annamaria frowned, even more sure of her decision to get involved. It looked like maybe Eric wasn't keeping his part of the bargain after all. "Fine. If you must be that way—"

"I must."

"—just don't bother yelling at me anymore. You have a terrible temper and I just can't stand it. It's infuriating!"

She could have sworn she had seen him smile. "Yes, Milady."

He was mocking her. The princess growled in frustration, "Just hush up and ride, would you?"

And ride they did, straight into Valore.

…

Anthony Dare stationed himself at the tavern across the street from the Prince's apartment. He had seen the prince and the redhead ride off earlier that morning, but had seen neither sight nor hair of his sister or anybody else. It was maddening. He hated to wait, but as Eduard kindly reminded him that morning, 'good things come to those who wait.'

He did not believe it.

"Can I get you a drink, stranger?" The bartender crowded his end of the counter again eyeing his empty glass. Anthony had only taken water and could tell that his odd order, as well as the black mask and garb, were causing the old man both alarm and suspicion. He was sure the good manners didn't help either.

"No. Thank you." Anthony didn't remove his eyes from the building. Still no one coming and still no one leaving, and he had been on the lookout for hours. If only he could go in and get Clara out right now— but Eduard had warned him against it. Oh, curse you Eduard! Good things would not come until he began to fight back. Why did he have to wait so long? Clara needed him. He should have gotten her out of that asylum a long time ago; then none of this would have happened.

"You sure? We've got a special today on whiskey."

"No. Thank you."

Anthony moved his eyes to the reflection on the glass a moment to notice the bartender nod to someone in the tavern crowd before making his way back down the counter, cleaning it with a wet cloth. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but soon decided it couldn't possibly be anything to do with him. He had done nothing after all.

He looked back through the window.

The street stayed relatively normal. Still no one entered the apartment nor departed. Anthony was becoming more and more restless by the moment and almost wondered if maybe he should change vantage points? After all, there was more than one way in and out of a building, and if Eric suspected he was being followed, he surely wouldn't use the main ones for anything but to convey misleading material. Perhaps the boy hadn't really left the complex at all? He and the redhead could have left by the front entrance and then doubled around and entered by the back hoping to thwart the plans of his enemies. But was the prince that cunning? Well, he had gotten away with murder, hadn't he?

Anthony rose to his feet, determined to abolish that reasoning altogether. Prince Eric of Valore would not be getting away with murder. Not as long as he were alive.

"Leaving so soon?" the bartender looked towards him as he adjusted his cloak.

"Yes." Anthony nodded and dug into his pocket, handing over a few coins to the bartender. "For your trouble."

"I'm much obliged," the mustached bar owner actually smiled accepting the cash. "You come again real soon, hm?"

"Yeah…" Anthony headed towards the door, pausing to look once more at the crowded room. It was a small place, but even so, he couldn't help but notice the overwhelming sense of community condensed in that little space. He had felt it his whole time there. It was easy to notice he was a stranger. It seemed as if everybody there knew everybody; at least all of the usuals. Could it be possible that any of them knew the prince? He did live across the street.

"You know," Anthony looked to the bartender. "Maybe there's one more thing you can do for me," he began to approach the counter once more. A girl was at the counter now and smiled at him prettily as he reached them, but he ignored her.

"Sure, name it." The bartender didn't look up from his counting, but still seemed all ears.

"Are you much familiar with the man that lives in the apartment across the way?"

"You mean the prince?" the mustached man asked straight away, placing the change into his pocket.

"If that's who it is."

"Sure, sure. He's one of our regulars. We see him every week."

"And?" Anthony reclaimed a seat at the bar, waiting to hear more.

"Not much to say. He comes in, orders a drink, drains his glass, and then leaves."

He nodded slowly, "Does he live alone?"

"Seems to. Though, I've been seeing a lot less of him lately. Not too unusual I guess except for the fact that he seemed to like coming in here. Would always talk shop with me and Roselle here all the time. Pretty nice guy once you get past all the anger issues. Don't you think so Roselle?"

The pretty girl nodded. Anthony couldn't help but wonder why she didn't say anything.

He turned back to the bartender. "Did he complain much?"

"All the time." The man just shook his head, "Royal life, this. Rules and regulations, that. Shame his parents don't trust him more. He's actually a pretty bright kid. Make a good king someday providing his queen is alright."

Anthony nodded again, thoughtfully. Interesting. Prince Eric, it seemed, didn't always leave a fowl taste in the mouth of his acquaintances. If anything, it seemed like the members of this tavern liked him a great deal. "Just one last question, did Prince Eric ever mention the murder of that violinist? The one that was in the paper a few weeks ago?"

"I'll say he did!" the bartender replied, "Said something about wondering why the police didn't suspect that the boy did himself in. Funny thing, that. I sort of wondered the same thing myself."

Anthony nodded once more and then got up from the counter, slipping the big man a couple more coins in thanks. "Well, thank you. You've been a big help."

"Sure, sure…" The man scooped up the money and began counting it out again.

Anthony headed towards the door.

"Hey wait!"

The man in black turned, hearing the bartender call to him, "Why are you askin' all these questions about Eric? He's not in some sort of trouble is he?"

Anthony paused, knowing that his answer to the question was vital to the protection of his cover. After all, this man knew Eric, what if he told him someone had been asking about him? Not that the bartender had seen his face, but it could still raise suspicion and a suspicious Eric was never a good thing.

"Sir?"

Anthony sighed and turned back at the bartender, shoving his hand in his pocket. "What's your price?"