“You are both so brave.” Roary fluttered and skipped as they walked toward the Fel door, her feet at odds with the horror coating her face like icing. She offered her arms. “Lean on me, dear Evie. You too, Gisa. I’m afraid this has all been quite shocking. I don’t think I could manage going to the castle now.”
“Does the guard do that often?” Evie asked as they stepped through, her voice a little too thin and the lurch in her stomach not only from magic. It was one thing to tell stories of pirates and thieves and escaping from the gallows at the last minute, but just as it had been with the robbers, Evie didn’t much like the real version. That boy couldn’t have been older than she was, wasn’t even big enough to carry something away worth his life. The guard in Paline had been much too busy brushing their mustaches and helping old Lady Gensh across the street to hang anybody.
“Once a month.” Gisa looked over at her, the maid’s voice husky and quiet. When she looked at Roary, it hardened a little. “I’d forgotten it was today.”
“A most horrible mistake. I never would have dragged you two down here if I’d remembered.” Roary waited for Gisa to wipe the tears from her cheeks before offering her arm again, this time with a force that brooked no argument, and Evie couldn’t help but notice the shrewd gleam in her eye as she looked the maid over. After a moment, Gisa stepped forward and let Roary link an arm through hers. “I’m glad for the reminder to behave. Now, Evie, I think I’d like that story of yours. How is it you came to be locked in my kitchen?”
Evie, still shaken, glanced over at Gisa. “It’s not the sort of story that’s going to make anyone feel better.” She wished Cece were there, because Cece would have known exactly what to say and it probably would have had something to do with being eaten by ticks or proper costuming for one’s own demise. “I’m here because of a Fel.”
Gisa looked up, interest flooding through the dread on her face.
“A Fel?” Roary raised an eyebrow, not quite looking at Evie. An odd sort of smile perked at her lips, as if she wished to laugh but wanted to hold it in so Evie would continue speaking. “You met one and it sent you here? To be our baker?”
“No, of course not.” Evie shook her head, still unable to let go of the image of the boy. “It started because my friend Cecily … well…” She bit her lip. Evie wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the robbers. Roary wouldn’t have anyone to tell Evie’s story to, so there couldn’t be any harm in sharing, could there? And Gisa …
It was hard to believe Gisa was in league with the robbers at that moment, tear tracks still fresh on her face.
Evie breathed in deep once and then twice. She had to get to the castle to talk to the Fel. Maybe Roary would change her mind about going to the castle if she knew. “Cece and I got into a bit of a tussle with some bloodthirsty robbers is all.”
“Robbers?” Roary’s eyes went wide and wicked. “That’s all?”
Gisa’s back went very, very straight, her white, white brows puckering together. “The ones trespassing in the forest? There’s a Fel working with them?”
Evie nodded. “The robbers made a deal with it. Probably so they could use its magic to escape from the queen’s guard. And I caught them out there—none of the guard has been able to do it before, so they’re worried the robbers will come after me. Captain Garry hauled me up here to hide.”
Gisa’s steps dragged. “And you’re not supposed to leave the kitchen? So the robbers can’t track you down, right?” She twisted around, looking back toward the market. “Evie, do you know what they look like?”
Roary’s cascade of curls was suddenly in the way, so Evie couldn’t see Gisa. “What’s that you keep grabbing in your pocket?” she asked as they turned onto the street that led toward the Hollows’ house. Strings of servants and nobles and everyone in between tripped along the cobblestones between carriages.
Evie looked down at her pocket, her hand gripped tight around the Robber Lord’s knife. She’d almost forgotten it was there. Flashing the black edge of the blade toward Roary, she said, “I stole it off the Robber Lord. He grabbed me and I—”
“Evie!” Gisa’s voice cut through the story. She twisted forward, her cheeks hollow as she pointed behind them. Evie turned to look and her tongue tangled to a stop when she caught sight of the man behind them on the road.
It was the Robber Lord.
He stopped when her eyes settled on him, pulled the unlit cigar from where it hung out of the side of his mouth, and patted his jacket for a match. As if he was just another of Reinstadt’s city folk, out enjoying the last moments of fall with no intention of doing anything but strolling and perhaps spoiling the crisp autumn air for everyone else with his cigar smoke. How had Gisa known?
“What’s the matter?” Roary asked. “You can’t leave it at ‘and then the Robber Lord grabbed me.’” How did you get away?”
Panic leapt like flames in Evie’s chest. She linked her arm through Roary’s and began walking, adding a little fire to their heels. “He’s following us.”
Roary looked over her shoulder. “Who is?”
“Don’t look.” Evie pulled Roary around to keep walking. “We’ve got to think…”
Kicking her large skirts out in front of her to keep up, Roary’s devil smile flickered across her mouth. “Is it your robbers? Maybe the Fel itself?”
“Fel can’t come out of the forest,” Gisa hissed just as Evie said, “It’s the Robber Lord.” Evie chanced a glance back. The Robber Lord was still fiddling with his matches. But then he looked up and saw her watching.
It was hard to tell with the widening distance, but Evie thought he smiled.
Gripping the black knife in her pocket, Evie looked to the side streets, the houses large enough to have gates blocking the alleys between them. The Robber Lord couldn’t drag her through Reinstadt all the way to the Old Forest with so many people watching, so staying on the main road was probably smart. They could run back toward the house, but that would take the Robber Lord straight to the Hollows’ kitchen door. If he didn’t know where she lived yet, then Evie wouldn’t be the one to give it away.
“How far is the guard station, Roary?” she asked.
“Up by the castle? It’s only a few minutes’ walk.” Fear now decorated Roary’s face, but it seemed to be nothing more than a mask to cover a wicked smile just underneath. “What do we do? Do you think he’s planning to kidnap you?”
“I don’t want him to get away.” Evie bit her lip. If the guard arrested the Robber Lord now, she’d be able to go home without having to eavesdrop on Captain Garry or find the Fel King or any of it. Her memories of the eerie song in the Old Forest and the way everything hummed left the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, an echoing hum coming from the castle. “The Robber Lord’s after me, not you, so maybe you can run for help while I distract him. Let’s try to lead him toward the station. We’ll be safe in these crowds so long as he doesn’t call up help from his Fel and magick us to a wagon wheel.”
“Even if we bring the guard, they won’t be able to see him properly,” Gisa hissed.
“What do you mean, Gisa? He’s right there.”
“But—”
“I thought Fel could only magick things they can see.” Roary’s eyes danced. “And what does that have to do with wagon wheels?”
“I don’t know. The robbers are the ones who keep stealing them.” Evie tried to swallow, her throat so dry it wouldn’t comply. “I’ll pretend nothing’s wrong and keep walking. You and Gisa run for the guards.”
“Run? In these skirts?” Roary gave her paisley brocade a shake.
“Do you have a better idea?” Evie let go of Roary, wishing it were Cece at her side.
“Well, I suppose not. But if I rip this skirt, Mother will kill me.” Roary blinked, thinking for a moment. “All right, I’ll do it.”
They decided to separate where the road turned a corner around the palace wall, not more than a hundred yards from the guard station. Roary would be able to run without the robber seeing for a moment, and Evie would have time to think of something suitably distracting that would keep him from melting into the crowd.
Gisa looked back at the robber one last time, peeling Roary’s fingers off her arm one by one. “I’ll stay with Evie. To protect her, you know. Roary, you’ll have to go fast.”
“I’ll do my best.” Roary smiled her beautiful, devilish smile. “You tell me when to run.”
The moment they rounded the corner, Roary took off, skirts lifted clear to her knees, scattering plumed ladies and bespectacled gentlemen to either side of her as she raced toward the station’s cream-colored walls.
Evie started walking faster, one hand around the knife in her pocket, the other gripping Gisa’s fingers tight. Before she could even check to see if the Robber Lord was still following, he was there, crossing the street toward them. Evie’s heart pounded so hard her bones began to rattle, but she stopped and squared her shoulders, because that’s what people in stories did. They were brave. They said clever things. They never ran away.
“You’ve got something of mine,” the Robber Lord called out. “Where’s my knife?”
Gisa’s fingers pressed hard against Evie’s. “The knife is yours?” She turned to look at Evie. “You really did take that knife from him in the forest?”
The Robber Lord stepped closer, ignoring the servants and nobles pottering by. He grabbed at Evie’s arm, but Evie pulled away, extracting the knife from her pocket and brandishing it at the Robber Lord. A passing servant squawked in alarm, taking a few running steps to get out of her way. He didn’t give the robber a second look. Not even a first one.
They won’t be able to see him properly, Gisa had said. The Trouvani herself skipped back, the spark returning to her eyes. “You aren’t supposed to go into the forest at all,” she growled at him. “No one is.”
Cocking his head at Gisa for a second, the robber shrugged and turned back to Evie. “We’d have found you much sooner if I hadn’t dropped the knife in your lap. I’d like to tell you all about it. Outside of town, maybe?” His smile was icky, made from turned berries and ant-infested sugar. “Come quiet and I won’t hurt you.”
Evie was about to inform the robber he was hurting her at that very moment with his unoriginal repartee when a passing servant jostled her arm. He gave her a quizzical look, as if there was something odd about a white-haired maid and a baker trying to escape a scruffy murderer, then walked on. He didn’t even look at the Robber Lord, passing by so close it was almost as if he couldn’t see the man.
The threads of bravery masking Evie’s fear began to fray. She fell back a step when the robber pulled a knife from his pocket, a good three inches longer than the one she held, the edge gleaming wickedly in the morning sun.
“Evie! Evie Baker!” Roary’s voice screamed down the hill.
The Robber Lord started toward Evie, a cruel grin on his face as if he knew he didn’t have to try to win this fight. Gisa darted forward, spinning between the robber and Evie just like the Trouvani had done down in the square. The Robber Lord stumbled in surprise. Leaping toward him, Gisa rapped her fingers against the robber’s wrist, sending the knife clattering to the ground.
“There she is!” Evie turned to see Roary’s large skirts billowing about her. She was teetering back and forth like a ship at sea as she ran, trying to keep the flounces out from under her feet.
Behind her, there were four men of the queen’s guard who all looked less than enthusiastic, except for the smallest of them. When he set eyes on Evie, Gisa, and the Robber Lord, he began to run.
It was Max.
The robber dove forward, grabbing Evie’s wrist and wrenching her toward him. She swung her blade wildly at him, thinking she might just be able to cut the awful grin from his face. He made a grab for the knife, swearing when Evie swiped at his fingers with its keen edge, then threw her to the ground. She fell, landing on her wrist with a sharp snap.
“I tell you, I don’t see a thing! There’s no one there!” one of the guards yelled from up the hill.
“Of course there is, didn’t you hear?” Roary was giggling. “There are robbers everywhere!”
“Stop!” Evie could hardly hear Max through the pain in her wrist. “Halt, in the name of the queen!”
The Robber Lord swore one last time, then ran.