Chasing Shadows (26 page)

But, no. Sarah had propped herself up on the Spaniard’s chest, and his arms tightened around her. Will could not see her face from his vantage point, but the man beneath her was grinning broadly as he lifted his head. Will understood the look on the Spaniard’s face; he didn’t like it one bit.

His first instinct was a quick-boiling rage that filled him with the desire to rip the man out from under her and slam him against the wall until he could no longer remember his own ridiculous name—a thought that momentarily delighted Will. He had even advanced an unconscious step during their spill, preparing to reveal himself and invoke serious harm on the man if Sarah showed even the minutest sign of struggle.

But the longer it took her to pull away from Lisandro, the more the fight drained out of him. Robert’s words came to mind about moving quickly, and Will was struck with the painful realization that he was staring at the result of his own lack of haste. Sarah’s previous laughter echoed through his head, and he was forced to acknowledge the possibility that she would be better off with the Spaniard.

As much as Will wanted to spend the remainder of his days with her, what right did he have to impose his meager life upon her? She deserved a man with Lisandro’s position, someone she could be proud of and a man of influence who could give her all that she desired—wealth, standing . . . love.

He just hoped the Spaniard would someday be worthy of her.

Will looked again at the broken flower. It had seemed so lovely and pure when he had found it before, but now it looked small and plain and perfectly broken compared to the vibrant rose Damien had given her. When considered side-by-side, there was no contest between the two. The gifts of a lowly blacksmith could never compare, nor could the man, who had nothing of true worth to give except the love in his heart.

But it would never be enough.

His eyes drifted toward them again, willing them to separate, longing for her to look his way. But Lisandro’s arms were still tight around her middle, that obnoxious grin stretching across his too-brown face. Sarah didn’t appear to be struggling for freedom.

Quickly averting his gaze, Will squared his jaw at the forest, as though it were personally challenging him to let go of the one thing he had been desperately clinging to. His mind made up to do one truly selfless thing with his life, he slowly tipped his hand, and the daisy—the emblem of a fruitless hope—slipped from his grasp and floated softly to the snow. His throat burned, and he loathed the ironic symbolism of the flower as it lay there, its petals pristine but its stem bent at an awkward angle where his fingers had crushed it. It too closely resembled the broken relationship between Sarah and himself to offer him comfort. But it was just as well that the flower was ruined.

He wouldn’t be needing it, after all.   

Inhaling deeply, he allowed one final glance at what would never be before quickly dragging his gaze away before he caused himself more undue harm. And then he did the one thing he had sworn he’d never do again after she came back to him that day.

He walked away and did not look back.

****

Sarah pulled back from Damien, laughing at their clumsiness. He chuckled and leaned his head up to grin at her.

“Well, that was delightful,” he said, arms tightening about her waist when she tried to pull back. “Shall we play again?”

“Damien,” she admonished, a little breathless. From their fall, of course. “You can let me go now.”

He grinned unrepentantly, though he tried to look innocent. “Oh, I’m quite comfortable as I am, if you don’t mind.”

“And if I do mind?” she asked dryly.

His chest rose and fell with a regretful sigh. “Well, then I suppose I would have to be a gentleman and relinquish my comfort for yours.”

Sarah waited. He watched her in silence. “Uh, I’d
like
for you to let me go.”

Damien’s brows shot up. “Oh! You meant
this
instant. Of course!” He helped her stand while Sarah rolled her eyes at him—the man was ridiculous! But she could never seem to hide her smile when she was around him, however absurd his actions.

Rustling sounded near the forest’s edge. She squinted to make out the tiny shadow hopping along the ground away from them. “Was that a rabbit?” she asked curiously, though it was too far away to tell.

Damien grinned. “Shall we investigate?”

Slipping her arm through his, she nodded eagerly.

They wandered the yard, edging closer to the trees. Sarah’s gaze scanned the ground, searching for tracks. Her eyes landed on a white print in the snow, and she broke away from Damien and jogged over to it, expecting to find an animal’s trail veering off into the forest. But as she neared, the yellow and white colors of the flower became more distinct. Damien came up behind her as she stooped to collect it from the snow. The daisy bowed over as she held it up.

“Oh, it’s broken.” She frowned, showing Damien the severed stem. It was still beautiful, but it flopped around uselessly without support. “Where did it come from?” she asked him, rubbing her thumb over one of the pristine petals.

Damien shrugged. “It must be wild.”

“Hmm.” It was damaged, but Sarah was somewhat reluctant to toss it away. It seemed a shame to leave it behind, but it wasn’t like she had need of a broken flower. She placed it gingerly on the ground, exactly where it had been, and dusted off her hands.

“So!” Damien exclaimed as they walked back toward the castle. “What say you to supper?”

She looked up at him incredulously. “It’s the middle of the afternoon, if you hadn’t noticed.”

He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, rubbing his palm over it gently to generate warmth. The gesture wasn’t lost on her, and she felt heat spread through her chest that she was sure had nothing to do with their exertions.

Damien smiled down at her, and the corners of his eyes crinkled in pleasure. “Ah, ever the witty beauty. Actually, I was referring to this evening. I dine with the family every Saturday, or more often if I am able, and would like you to come as my guest.”

Sarah swallowed nervously. “Your family?” She hadn’t thought he had any left, except for his estranged father.

He looked surprised. “No, the royals. The nobles join them for the evening meal, a chance for all present to bow and flatter the egos of those of higher rank and standing. It is extremely tedious and dull, but it is expected.” He sounded bored just talking about it, but Sarah had already zoned out.

“Will the entire royal family be there?”

Damien’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Yes, they all generally attend.” He met her gaze, and he looked suddenly unsure of himself. “So, would you accompany me?” 

A thrill of nervous excitement drove through her veins, and she suppressed a shiver of anticipation and fear at the possibility of coming face-to-face with the king’s murderer. “Yes, I’d love to come.”

His expressive eyes brightened. “Wonderful! With your company, this evening will be most interesting.”

He had no idea.   

~Chapter 24~

“When is he coming for you?” Edith asked as she rifled through the wardrobe for a proper gown to attend supper in.

Sarah reflexively glanced outside to check the evening sun, but it was already dark; not having a watch left her at a serious disadvantage. “Um, I think din—
supper
—is in an hour, and he said he’d get me a few minutes before. Don’t worry,” she assured, misunderstanding Edith’s fidgety movements. “We have plenty of time to get ready.”

Edith emerged from the wardrobe with an elegant purple gown draped over her outstretched arms. Sarah turned back to the foggy looking glass that had been brought in earlier and was practicing piling her hair on top of her head when Edith muttered, “I care not for his patience.” The intensity in her words caused Sarah to drop her hair and spin around to face the older woman. Her expression was troubled, and a line had appeared between her knit brows.

Edith’s movements were stiff as she placed the gown on the edge of the bed and smoothed it out to prevent it from wrinkling. She turned around and caught Sarah’s mouth agape before she snapped it closed.

Expelling a heavy breath, Edith came up behind her and motioned for Sarah to face the mirror again. Deft fingers combed through her waves and mechanically arranged them at the back of her head. Sarah remained silent as she stared at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. From Edith’s strong reaction, something heavy burned her mind; she wasn’t one to overreact.

Edith tugged playfully on a strand of her hair, and Sarah glanced up at the older woman’s reflection in the mirror. The smile Edith gave her was small but filled with warmth. “Your face gives too much away, my dear.” Her smile fell away. “Forgive me for reacting so harshly just then. My issue was not with you, and I am sorry if it seemed that way.”

“What did I say that upset you?” Sarah asked, baffled. “It wasn’t about Damien, was it? Because he’s been a complete gentleman.” She thought of the way he had held her against him after they’d fallen in the snow, but the truth was, she hadn’t exactly minded or made much of an effort to pull away.

She ducked her head to conceal the guilty flush that stole over her cheeks.

“No, no.” Edith’s voice sounded distracted as she murmured her assurance. “If you trust the young lord, then so do I.”

Sarah looked up at the older woman, who diligently worked the tangled strands into compliance. “Then what is it?”

“I simply—” She halted, seeming to struggle for the right words before she schooled her features into the subservient mask Sarah had seen her use around the other lords and ladies. “I was surprised to hear that you would be supping with the royals, is all. But it will be quite an experience for you, I’m sure.”

Though Edith tried her best to hide it, Sarah detected the uncertainty and false assurance her words carried. “What’s really bothering you?” It couldn’t be that Damien had invited her to dinner. That hardly seemed like a reason to cause worry.

Edith pursed her lips. “It’s simply that there are quite a few . . . expectations,” she answered carefully, “for such an event. It can be intimidating for one so young.”

Sarah had discovered that hardly a decade separated them, yet Edith had taken over a mothering role, seeming decades older in both wisdom and experience and temperament. The harshness of this life had aged the woman and lent her a knowing gaze. Though Edith never spoke of it or complained, Sarah suspected she had seen more of the world than she cared to know, judging by the faraway look that occasionally flittered over her pale features when she thought no one was watching. 

Edith’s ministrations were no longer the practiced and efficient movements of the maid she had been a moment ago, but her fingers combed through the auburn waves like those of a mother comforting her child. Sarah’s heart sank in dread.

“Edith,” she said warily, watching her friend’s face closely when she averted her gaze. “What are you really worried about? You can tell me.”

Edith’s troubled eyes met hers. Placing her hands on her shoulders, she said, “I am concerned about you going, yes. But my real worry is that they will know who you are—you will no longer be just another faceless guest to them. If you are with Lisandro at that table, you are worth knowing.”

Sarah squinted her left eye, still unclear. “So you’re worried about me getting on their radar? Why?”

Choosing her words carefully, she replied, “Everyone is aware that the master Cadius can be prone to . . .
dark
moods.” Her shiver seemed uncontrollable. “We all fear him and what he will do if we make a mistake, and the guests are no exception—half are indebted to him for reasons unknown, and the other portion are politically ambitious and only remain because a familiarity with the royals can advance their position. If he knows who you are, he
will
be watching you from now on, wherever you go.”

Sarah swallowed, recalling Damien’s words from earlier. Could Cadius really have spies everywhere?

Edith’s expression softened at her look of surprise, though her voice was just as insistent. “And that begs me to caution you to remain silent on religious matters. I’ve enjoyed hearing you speak freely of God and
Christianity
”—she whispered the word, as though fearful someone might overhear—“but the notion of a single deity threatens the ego of a man like Cadius and his comrades. That sort of talk is just not expected from a lady, especially not a topic so controversial as the Christ.”

“I can’t lie,” Sarah remarked softly. Edith looked put out, and she hurried to add, “You told me that you and your husband raised your son to believe in God. Would you want him to lie about his faith?”

Edith winced, but her pained expression was fleeting. “If it would save his life, yes. And now I am asking you to protect yours. You know what you believe, so what is the harm in denying it if someone asks?” But Sarah was already shaking her head. Edith added quietly, “You told me He sees everything, so why would he punish you for protecting yourself?”

Sarah took a deep breath, thinking of a way to explain. “It’s not that I fear a reprimand from Him, but God is as much a part of my life as breathing—He’s the reason I’m alive. I can’t . . .
deny
Him. It would be like denying myself. Does that make sense?”

Edith nodded slowly, and Sarah went on. “I promise to not provoke, but if someone asks me outright, I’m going to tell them about God just like I have with you.”

“And if it was a matter of life and death, would you still speak up?”

Sarah winced. She wanted to say, “Yes, in a heartbeat.” But she hesitated.

“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “But I hope I would have the courage to stand by Him when He’s done the same for me all these years. You wouldn’t bury the crown jewels in the pumpkin patch when you could wear them for all to see, would you?”

Edith shook her head, looking a little dumbfounded. “No, I suppose not.” She watched Sarah’s face closely, seeming to spot something in her eyes that wasn’t there before. She smiled faintly in bemusement. “My lady, you have given me much to think on. I must admit that though your conviction astounds me, I do respect you for it.” Sighing, she added, “So have it your way.”

Her eyes turned haunted once more. “But I know first-hand what can happen if you make a mistake. Don’t give Cadius any reason to doubt your loyalty. Understand?”

Sarah nodded mutely. Her stomach had become a total mass of knots during Edith’s cautioning. She felt more concerned and less self-assured than ever. But she was also touched that Edith cared enough to warn her beforehand, especially since she ran the risk of being overheard revealing such secrets.

Spinning around in her chair, Sarah grabbed the woman’s hands in both her own and squeezed them gently. “I will be careful. I promise.”

Edith bobbed her head in acknowledgement. She released Sarah’s hands and turned to retrieve the gown before she could see the emotion pooling in her gaze. “I can have a tray brought up for you, if you get hungry,” she said over her shoulder.

“I can wait for dinner, thanks.” Sarah pretended not to notice that it took her a rather long time to smooth the dress out before bringing it to her; she didn’t want to embarrass Edith after all she had done for her.

The dress slipped over Sarah’s hair with ease, and Edith put a few last-minute touches on her cosmetics—some pink-toned powders made from dried berries and flowers—before placing a sudden vice-like grip on her shoulders. “Whatever you do,” she whispered, her voice wavering with emotion, “do not let him see that you fear him.”

Her first encounter with Cadius was sounding more ominous by the minute.

Sarah tried to swallow her fear, but the lump that dropped to her stomach only made her feel sick. “How am I supposed to act, then?”

Edith tucked an errant curl behind Sarah’s ear—the haunted look had yet to leave her eyes. “Just stay invisible. It is better if he doesn’t dwell on you for too long.”

Sarah watched her expression closely. Then, because she couldn’t take not knowing what had stooped her friend’s shoulders so suddenly, she asked hesitantly, “You sound like you speak from experience.”

Edith did not turn away or try to change the subject, as she had expected. She stared Sarah in the eye, and a single tear slipped over her lid and made its way down her pale cheek. She gave a pained smile that quivered at the corners. “Some ghosts are best left forgotten.” 

****

Sarah jiggled her leg anxiously, her apprehension increasing with each second that passed without Damien knocking on her door. She had thought she was too nervous to eat, but when one hour passed and then two, she was so famished that she devoured the contents of the tray Edith had brought in earlier. “In case you change your mind,” she had said. Sarah didn’t think she was referring to simply snacking before dinner.

The sun had set hours ago. Maybe she had heard wrong and supper wasn’t until later. And there was a definite possibility that interrogating Cadius in front of a room full of people was all a complete mistake, and sitting here was only making her question her decision. 

Jumping off her bed in one lurching movement, Sarah practically jogged to her door and threw it open. She would go mad if she stayed in this room another moment. Closing her door as gently as her nervous fingers would allow, her slippers padded across the hall, and she paused as a servant moved around the corner and out of sight before knocking on Damien’s door with a shaking hand.

Her foot tapped impatiently on the colorful rug as she waited for him to open the door. She pursed her lips and knocked again, harder, when he neglected to answer. The door creaked open under the weight of her fist, and she froze.

No sound came from within. Maybe he had already gone to dinner and forgotten to close the door on his way out. If that were the case, he had also forgotten to fetch her, which she didn’t think he would.

Sarah pushed the door open a few more inches and leaned in slowly, her eyes scanning the dark room as she gripped the doorframe. The low-burning fire cast eerie shadows over the enormous room, but it offered little light. “Damien?” she whispered, as if in fear of disturbing the unnerving dark of the strange room. There was no answer. She took a step inside as her eyes adjusted and then said more loudly, “Are you in here?”

Silence.

“Guess not,” she muttered and began backing through the doorway. A breathy shudder from the other side of the room caused her to jump as her eyes flew to the settee and the crumpled form convulsing there.

She gasped when the man muttered her name in confusion. “Ohmygosh, Damien!” She flew across the room and dropped down beside him. Tremors racked his body, and she could tell he was trying hard to contain them. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and his face was devoid of color. Sarah felt instant panic when he looked up at her with glazed, feverish eyes that didn’t seem to place her. “What happened?” Fear caused her voice to tremble.

He gave her a wavering grin that she assumed was meant to reassure her, but it looked more like a grimace. “You caught me at a poor time, my lady.” Now he really winced, and Sarah involuntarily mimicked the gesture. He choked past gritted teeth, “But I seem to be the one with the poor . . . timing.”

“Damien, what
happened
?” she asked again. Her eyes scanned the room, as though the answer were hidden in the rumpled sheets. It looked like he had fallen from bed and barely made it to the small couch before the tremors became too much for him. 

He looked up at her with a look she could only assume was his brave face, but his shivering body undermined the effort. “It’s nothing. Truly.” He gave her an imploring look. “Sarah, please—I don’t wish you to worry, and I can see you already are. Forgive me for—” His brow tightened and his eyes closed in pain as a severe tremor moved over his body, too powerful for him to control. He gripped his stomach, as if to quell the vibrations racking his frame.

Sarah watched in horror as the shaking increased. She had no idea what to do to alleviate seizures, or if she needed to hold him still so he couldn’t hurt himself. Indecisive, she could only stare, horror-struck and frozen in wide-eyed panic. When she could no longer stand watching his pain in helpless silence, she rose to call out for someone, but his arm snaked out and caught her hand. His hold was desperate, unbreakable.