Page 14

“Quit complaining and look for something you can afford with your coin.”

It took ten minutes for Russell to choose a bag of rock candy. Grace was relieved. Eating kept her brother quiet as they wound through the streets.

After ordering meat, linen, wax for candles, and some oil for their lamps, Grace spent a while staring at a deep-green dress with emerald embroidery decorating the collar and sleeves. It was beautiful. She knew the color would look good with her hair, and as an added bonus, it would work as camouflage in Sherwood Forest. But it was too expensive, and unnecessary. She was not the Rogue. So she moved on.

The sun was halfway through its descent to the horizon and Grace had gathered all the necessities, so she let herself wander in the direction of a stall she’d passed but hadn’t stopped by earlier.

Leaving Russell to eat his candy, she hovered near the booth selling quills and paper decorated with dyes. She had no desire for new writing materials, but the next stall over sold hunting supplies.

Hanging from the wall of the stall was a beautiful bow made of a wood stained deep brown. Carvings of vines decorated the upper and lower ends of the wood, and slick black leather covered the grip.

It looked sturdy, but to be sure, Grace wanted to hold the weapon and pull back on the string to feel the tension for herself.

As a child, Grace had watched in awe as her Mother leapt between tree branches, loosing two arrows at a time and hitting dead center with both of them.

Grace sighed. She and Jonathan had spent days practicing from lunch till dusk in borrowed verdure cloaks to prevent injury in case of a fall, but Grace was still just acceptable at the skill. Having her own special bow would be nice; a good quality weapon made it easier to excel.

But, like most things, it was too expensive and unnecessary.

So she scanned the stationery and risked a glance at the bow every once in a while.

“Must be someone important.”

For the second time that day, Grace turned in surprised to find herself in the presence of Garrick Clairmont.

“What...?” Grace stopped mid-sentence. She had meant to ask “What are you doing standing behind me?” but found her eyes drifting to the dress draped over his arm. Dark green with beautiful embroidery. He’d purchased the dress she’d been admiring.

Her eyes flicked his way. What was going on? The itch of fear prickled in her chest.

“The person to whom you plan to write. They must be important. You’ve been examining the stationery for quite some time.” Garrick made unexpected eye contact but jerked away as though offended by the familiarity of the action.

She looked back at the dress as she answered. “I’m not writing to anyone.” Was that a bag of candy he held in his hand?

Grace’s breaths were coming faster now. Something was definitely up.

“Oh?”

“Are you following me?” She felt a surge of pride when her words came out accusatory and not strangled. His father had to be behind this.

Rather than the blustery indignation she expected, Garrick hesitated, then chuckled nervously. “No… You and my cousin have the same taste, it seems.”

Grace crossed her arms, familiar anger bubbling in her at the mention of Willa. “And I suppose you want stationery for her too?”

Garrick shook his head. “My father.”

“Well, don’t let me stand in your way.” Grace did not believe Garrick. She hadn’t run into a single other Fidaran all day, and he just happened to go to exactly the same places she had? Hehadbeen following her, she was certain.

But why?

What could the sheriff gain from this? She couldn’t think of anything.

Could there be any other explanation, though?

Blood drained from her face. Russell’s comment about Father. It might have made Garrick suspicious.

“No, no,” Garrick said, “Please. Finish your purchase first.”

Grace narrowed her eyes. Well, if he thought he could follow her now that she was aware, he’d find himself mistaken.