In her room at the Yellow Rose Inn, Natalie sat scowling at the wall until well after sundown. Blood had stained her new dress, and her face pulsated with pain. She was hungry, too. But what really hurt were Brago’s words echoing in her head: I’ve seen how happy you’ve been since you learned about their deaths—running around, buying pretty dresses; laughing and carrying on. You must feel so unencumbered knowing you don’t have to deal with them anymore.
She unfolded the sheet of paper Brago had left her. It was a map of the Ketterings’ estate. An arrow pointed to some hills five or six miles away. In the margin were faint words: “Secret vault. Below dungeon.”
Natalie’s stomach churned.
Would she give this to Sir Edris?
She had to—otherwise Artis was as good as dead. Besides, it was just a stupid harp. Certainly, Sir Edris and Reg would do the same thing, had their positions been reversed.
Maybe Brago was bluffing. Maybe he didn’t actually have Artis. After all, he hadn’t offered any proof. Maybe Artis would show up any minute, hungover and wanting to talk about his feelings.
The maybes disappeared as Natalie stared at Artis’s pack. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he had been kidnapped. Brago killed her family. He killed innocent children—Jeremy was only three years old, and Brago had burned him alive. He wouldn’t have hesitated to abduct Artis if it suited his purposes. Plus, Artis had probably been drinking all night. It would’ve been easy for somebody to drag him off into some dark alley.
She considered the folded parchment again.
What was she going to do? Sir Edris had been so good to her; he’d literally treated her like a daughter. Could she lie to him?
What other choice did she have?
She could tell Sir Edris about Brago.
And if you utter a single word about our little encounter here, rest assured I’ll hear about it, and you’ll never see your boyfriend, or Hadley, or Ida, or Henry again.
He’d known she’d gone shopping, and he’d known about Hadley and the others. Clearly, he had spies. Still, if she got Sir Edris alone and whispered into his ear about what had happened, maybe he could set some kind of trap for Brago. Or even kill him.
No. If Sir Edris began searching for Artis, Brago would know almost immediately. The bottom line was that Sir Edris had to lose this quest, or Artis would die.
Natalie put her face into her hands, heedless of the pain and the stench of blood. Then something occurred to her…
There was no guarantee Brago would actually release Artis, even after Sir Edris lost the quest. Why would he? That would mean he’d have to watch out for one more enemy. It’d be safer for Brago to simply kill Artis once he no longer needed him. So really, the only options were to either rescue Artis or kill Brago.
No. Rescue Artis and kill Brago. Rescuing Artis would only solve one problem. Brago would still be out there, and he’d be as angry as a kicked hornet’s nest. She’d have to do both.
But how?
First, she had to find Artis.
Where to look for him?
According to Reg, Artis had gone to drink at a place called The Goblin’s Head. From there, he would’ve probably left drunk and been overpowered by Brago. Brago was formidable, but he wasn’t a big man like Sir Edris, so she couldn’t imagine Brago carrying Artis very far, especially if Artis had been putting up a fight. And Brago wouldn’t have wanted people to see him carrying somebody away.
So, Brago would have hit Artis over the head, or wrapped a garrote around his neck, or somehow otherwise subdued him. But then what? He would’ve had to put Artis somewhere safe—somewhere Artis couldn’t escape and nobody could hear his calls for help.
Maybe some house out in the country? A farm, perhaps?
How would Brago have gotten him there without being noticed, though? No, he probably would have tied Artis up and hid him nearby. But where…?
A place where he couldn’t call out for help…
A basement?
Natalie’s head felt like it was splitting open. She couldn’t think straight.
Perhaps Brago had a house somewhere like Sir Edris’s. Somewhere he could go without being noticed. If he did, how could she find out where it was?
The evening was growing old, and Sir Edris was expecting her. Artis would have to wait.
Slowly, Natalie removed her torn, blood-covered dress and washed her swollen face.
Another beating. What else was new?
Wearing her other new dress, she descended the stairs to the inn’s common room, where several people gaped at her, faces contorted in both pity and disgust. Still, nobody said a word.
Outside, a familiar figure sat across from the Yellow Rose Inn, hat in hand, begging for money.
Natalie rushed across the street to confront him. “What’s your real name?” she asked. “Obviously it’s not Nathaniel.”
Upon seeing her, the boy grinned suggestively. “You can call me whatever you’d like. Nathaniel’s a bit unwieldy, but it’s good enough for the likes of me!” Then he shook the patched hat, jingling the three copper pieces he’d amassed. “Got any spare coins?”
“I know you don’t need any, remember? Not unless you’ve spent what Sir Edris gave you last night.”
Nathaniel shushed her, his misaligned eyes darting over to the people passing by. Slowly, his smile returned. “Let’s just keep that little tidbit to ourselves, shall we?” He dumped the copper into his pocket and plopped the hat onto his head. “So, what can I do you for?”
Natalie followed him as he ambled up the street, glancing casually into the store windows.
“I want to find Brago’s house,” she said.
Nathaniel’s stride faltered ever so slightly, but his smile didn’t dim. “Sure! Sure, Nat. Anything for you. But aren’t you leaving tomorrow?”
Natalie studied Nathaniel. Something wasn’t right.
Reg appeared from around a corner. “Nat!” He stopped short. “What the hell happened? Nat, who did that to you?”
Natalie felt her swollen eye. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Nat, what happened?”
“Looks like you two have things to discuss.” Nathaniel took off his cap and gave a sweeping bow. “I’ll see you all when you need something!”
Natalie wanted to stop the boy, but he’d already disappeared into the bustling crowd.
“Natalie, where’s Art?” Reg asked. “Did he do this to you? Was he drunk?”
“What?” His question was a quick and easy out, but she refused to take it. “No, of course not. Art would never do that to anybody, especially a woman.”
“Then—?”
“I was robbed,” Natalie said quickly. “I…I was walking back to the inn this morning and, and three men jumped out of an alley and tried to grab me. I fought them off, but not before they did this.” She pointed to her face. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Let’s just go. I’m sure Sir Edris is waiting for us.”
She headed for the Old Quarter, Reg hot on her heels.
“Nat, where’s Art?” he asked suspiciously.
“Home.” She corrected herself. “He’s going home, I mean. We talked. He knows how I feel, and he doesn’t want to be around me anymore. He’s gone.”
“Then why don’t I believe you?”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “He didn’t hit me, okay? Trust me. Art is the sweetest, gentlest guy there is; he’d never hurt a fly.” Reg’s expression harbored something other than concern. Envy? Disappointment? Or was it just her imagination? “I was robbed, okay? Let’s go. I have to give something to Sir Edris.”