Page 24

Chapter 24

Elliot

E lliot woke slowly at first and then quickly as he absorbed the sense that something was wrong. He didn’t know what, but he felt it as certainly as anything.

He sat upright, looking around their small camp. Mattie still lay peacefully sleeping inside her bedroll on the other side of the fire, but Avery was gone. And not just gone from her bedroll. The entire thing was gone as if Avery had never existed.

He bolted to his feet, his heart hammering as he looked around the small clearing they had chosen for their camp. Nutmeg still stood with the other horses, and a flash of blue and red pinpointed where Frank slept in a nearby tree. But there was no sign of Avery.

He scooped up his sword from the ground, drawing it from the scabbard. The action was an instinct rather than any logical thought, but taking action of some kind calmed him enough to notice details he’d missed on first examination.

Avery’s bedroll was gone from the fire, but it was rolled up neatly beside her saddlebags, not vanished completely. She must have woken up early and decided to start packing. There was every chance she had merely stepped into the trees to complete her morning’s preparations—an idea that was strengthened by the fact that he hadn’t been hit by any weakness or illness yet. She had to be close.

But as the minutes drew on, his confidence waned. He examined her saddlebags and bedroll more closely, his heart sinking when he found the lamp stashed behind them.

She had left the lamp behind once before when she was abducted, but the same scenario made less sense in their forest camp. If she’d had time to stash the lamp, she would have had time to wake him and Mattie. The logical conclusion was that she had left by choice, knowing she was going too far to take it with her. But where would she have gone?

He would have to wake Mattie and Frank and initiate a search of the surrounding forest. But even Frank wouldn’t be much use with the tree canopy blocking his line of sight.

Shouts and the crashing sound of running footsteps met his straining ears. He dashed toward the noises, not getting far before his knees weakened. He’d forgotten to grab the lamp.

Reluctantly he stopped and backed into the clearing again. If it was Avery he could hear, she sounded as if she was running toward them. He needed to wait for her where he had the strongest position.

He darted behind a tree only to change his mind and step back to the center of the clearing. If someone was pursuing Avery, he would show them that she wasn’t a weak target.

Avery dashed headlong between two trees, panting from her run. She slid to a stop, her head swiveling until her eyes fell on Elliot.

“Oh good!” she exclaimed between pants. “You’re awake.”

Elliot reached her in two strides, sweeping her behind him just as two rough men burst into the clearing in pursuit. The first staggered to a halt at the sight of Elliot and his sword, the second colliding with his back.

The second peered over his comrade’s shoulder, his eyes widening. “Who are you?” he asked. “You aren’t a Beast.”

Struck by the absurdity of the situation, some of the tension in Elliot’s frame unwound.

“Evidently.” He raised a single brow. “Is that significant in some way?”

“It’s not her,” the first whispered over his shoulder to his comrade. “She’s not the one the boss wants.”

“What are we doing, then?” the second demanded in strident tones. “I didn’t sign up for all this running!”

“Fools! Donkeys! Amphibians!” Frank burst from his branch in a flurry of inanity.

Both men took a wary step backward.

“My apologies.” The first man attempted a bow and nearly tipped over.

“Didn’t mean to disturb your sleep!” the second man said in alarmed voice as Mattie launched to her feet from full sleep with a roar, her hand clamping around the saucepan that she now kept beside her whenever she slept.

Before Mattie could settle on the source of the disturbance, the two men had turned tail and fled. Avery immediately bent double, and Elliot stepped toward her in concern, worried she was winded—or worse, injured.

A laughing wheeze escaped her, and he stopped. She was out of breath from laughter, not pain or exertion.

“Stand down, Mattie,” he said flatly. “It’s just Avery causing trouble.”

She straightened at that. “I wasn’t the one causing trouble! Those men were mercenaries just like we thought.”

“Where have they gone?” Mattie stepped forward, the saucepan held in front of her like a sword and a deadly glint in her eyes.

“They were awfully quick to run away,” Elliot pointed out dryly.

“That’s because they might be mercenaries, but we aren’t their target,” Avery said, wiping tears of laughter from the edges of her eyes.

Understanding made Elliot sigh. “And let me guess, your blasted curiosity sent you off to investigate, and once you were there, you decided to single-handedly rescue their actual target, thus drawing their attention?”

Avery looked over at him, clearly struck. “Yes, actually! That’s exactly it. How did you know?”

“Because I know you,” he muttered, finally replacing his sword in its scabbard, although he made sure to buckle it firmly at his waist. “Did you consider the danger for even a second? Someone is after you, remember!”

“Of course I did,” Avery said airily. “But I couldn’t leave Rosalie tied to a tree! I’ve met her before in Thebarton, and she’s not the sort to be engaged in shady dealings. Cutting her loose was worth the minor risk.”

“Minor—” Elliot broke off with another sigh. Avery had been traveling alone for nearly as many years as he had, so it would be presumptuous to start lecturing her on safety—even if the thought of her going after a group of mercenaries alone made his skin crawl.

“I notice Rosalie isn’t here professing her great thanks,” he said instead.

“That’s because she had somewhere important to be,” Avery said airily, apparently considering that normal. “There was some sort of time pressure. Hopefully she’ll tell me the full story next time we pass Thebarton.”

Elliot was struck silent by her casual use of we , as if she thought of him as a part of all her future travels.

“I figured I always had Frank if I needed help,” Avery said, oblivious. She turned accusing eyes on the bird. “But he was here sleeping the whole time.”

“I suppose I should just be grateful you didn’t need him.”

“Grateful is as grateful does,” Frank cawed, flying in to land beside the pack that held the food. He pecked at it, clearly unbothered by Avery’s recent close call or his absence.

“That bird…” Elliot muttered, but he went to open the pack and prepare them all some breakfast. The two men had been eager to be gone, but he still wanted to get back on the road as quickly as possible.

A fter the excitement outside Thebarton, the rest of the journey proved uneventful. But that didn’t stop the tension rising in Elliot with every mile closer to Bolivere. He knew both women—but especially Avery—could tell he wasn’t himself, but he didn’t know how to describe the tumult inside him.

If he’d been alone with Avery, he might have brought himself to confess everything. But with Mattie there as well, the words kept clogging in his throat. They would both find out the truth soon enough.

If the people of Bolivere were watching for Avery’s arrival, they must have been looking west, toward the river. Entering from the east, Avery, Mattie, and Elliot arrived in the town without fanfare.

It looked tired and subdued compared to Elliot’s memories, with none of the added shine he had been expecting given the distribution of his father’s wealth. The crack in the retaining wall of the dam—the same one he remembered from his childhood— made his hands clench into fists. What exactly had his father’s funds been used for?

As they walked the streets, the sight of the houses and buildings shook Elliot just as he had feared they would, flooding him with memories of his father. The familiar views cut at him, the small changes emphasizing how much time had passed since he had last walked the streets of his hometown. He caught sight of several missing buildings, but none of the new construction he had been expecting.

As they wound toward the center of town, he caught a glimpse of the manor where it perched on higher ground just north of the town. For an unthinking moment, his heart swelled with joy, and he was gripped by an unreasoning certainty that his father would be waiting for him around the next corner.

But reality returned, and his second sight of the stately home made his stomach sour. The happy years he had spent there were tainted by memory of his loss.

A youth running past slowed to look at them curiously. Elliot watched him cautiously, wondering how old the lad would have been when Elliot left Bolivere. Would he recognize Elliot?

But the boy’s eyes caught on Avery. They widened as his whole face lit up. Almost tripping in his haste, he turned and fled without a greeting, his voice calling the news of Avery’s return through the town.

People flooded out in response to his cries, converging on the travelers as they arrived in the central town square. Elliot had been planning to hang back as far as the lamp would allow—possibly even hiding himself between some of the buildings—but the crowd that surged around them made escape impossible. Quickly gathering the reins of the three horses, he positioned himself behind the two merchant women, grateful that Avery was the center of everyone’s attention.

“Has anyone run to the big house?” he heard several voices calling.

“Yes, two boys have gone,” one faceless person replied.

“I saw Corbett in town not twenty minutes ago,” another chipped in. “He’s probably still here. Has anyone seen him?”

Corbett? Elliot frowned at the familiar name. Why were the townspeople searching for the mischievous youth who had been the first to tell him the tale of the dragon in the cave?

But eight years had passed. Of course Corbett would no longer be a youth. He hadn’t truly been a youth even when Elliot left.

Elliot searched his memory and dredged up an old recollection. Just before he left Bolivere, his father had mentioned his steward’s plans to retire—and his intention to appoint Corbett in the man’s place. Elliot had been surprised to hear it—Corbett had been barely twenty-two at the time, and Elliot had pictured stewards as aged, solemn people.

He hadn’t protested, though. At thirteen he hadn’t involved himself with running the estate. And even he would have admitted that Corbett had steadied significantly since he had first told a four-year-old Elliot to be wary of the dragon.

But Elliot had forgotten his father’s words in the intervening years, and when Avery had shared the truth of Bolivere’s situation with Mattie around the campfire the previous night, he hadn’t thought of his old acquaintance. She had mentioned doing business with the steward without mentioning his name, and Elliot had pictured the ancient man who had served throughout his childhood.

Before he had adjusted to the thought of Corbett in such a position of authority, a man stepped forward, the crowd parting before him. Elliot stared at the face—at once familiar and unfamiliar.

There was no mistaking his identity. Despite the years, Elliot could clearly recognize Corbett. But his face held lines of age that hadn’t been there when Elliot left. Like the three buildings that had been pulled down, and the new front to the bakery, Corbett’s face reminded Elliot of all the years he had missed.

His gaze roamed over the rest of the crowd as he finally allowed himself to focus on each face. He found familiar person after familiar person, each with the same juxtaposition. Everywhere he looked, he saw recognizable features overlaid with new lines of age and maturity. Much had changed, and yet he knew these people. He recognized more than half the crowd, although he couldn’t have put a name to them all.

A strange sensation passed through him. It had been eight years since he had stood in a crowd of people and known more than a small handful of them.

“Avery!” Corbett exclaimed. “We thought we would get advance warning of your coming, but even so, we’ve been watching the river. But you came from the east?”

Avery smiled. “My journey didn’t go to plan.”

Corbett’s expression tightened. “But you got the lamp?”

Avery nodded, pulling it from her bag with a flourish. “As promised.”

Corbett relaxed, relief washing over his features as Avery held the lamp out to him. He took it carefully, gazing down at it for a moment before turning to the crowd.

“This scourge ends tomorrow! We will finally face the creature in its den and defeat it.”

The crowd cheered, their voices loud although the faces Elliot saw showed a mixture of relief and terror. They hadn’t forgotten that the battle was still ahead.

Corbett turned back to Avery. “I see you came with companions this time. You are all welcome, of course, and I’ll have rooms prepared for you in—” His words died as he turned his welcoming smile from Mattie to Elliot, shifting slightly to get a proper view of him.

His face paled momentarily, his eyes widening, and Elliot tensed, waiting for the words of condemnation and rejection. But instead, something that looked remarkably like joy and relief swept over Corbett’s face.

“Elliot?” He stepped between Avery and Mattie, the merchants forgotten. “I mean, Your Lordship!”