“I’ve told you a thousand—” He came up short and skidded to a stop in front of Ray and the half-turned garden bed. Mr. Rockwell’s thick brow furrowed as he surveyed his work, his eyes going from the garden bed and up to Ray and back again.
“Can I help you with something? I’m a bit busy at the moment,” Ray asked, gesturing toward the garden bed.
Mr. Rockwell cleared his throat. “I was coming around to see how these beds were doing.”
“Well enough, unless Lady Thornton has changed her mind about their placement?” Ray asked. It was a shot in the dark. But he’d take any chance he could get to go and speak with her. There hadn’t been enough time in Faery to explain everything to her between the wolf and the Twilight Court fiasco.
“No. No, she hasn’t,” Mr. Rockwell said as he scratched the stubble on his chin. His bushy brows were drawn together. It must have been hurting his pebble-sized brain to comprehend Ray actually doing work. Or maybe he’d glamoured him too many times. It did have an adverse effect of addling human minds.
“I haven’t seen her Ladyship around the garden in the past few days. I was hoping to ask her about her preference of flowers,” Ray said. He was pressing his luck without the glamour, but it wasn’t as if he had many other options.
Mr. Rockwell studied the flowerbeds. There wasn’t any indication anything Ray had said had filtered through the gravel in his ears.
“I haven’t seen her out for usual walks as of late,” Ray said.
Mr. Rockwell’s head snapped up. “Don’t be getting any funny ideas. Lady Thornton is above you, and you’d be best to remember that.” He jabbed a meaty finger at Ray.
Ray gently pushed his hand away. “I wouldn’t dare to forget my place,” he said behind gritted teeth. He never would have dared say such a thing to him in his prime. And maybe once he was rescued from this damned exile, he would come back here and teach Mr. Rockwell a lesson.
Mr. Rockwell nodded his head, apparently pleased by his answer. “I’ll be back in a few hours, and these beds better be done by then.”
Ray scowled after him. Any desire at pretense had evaporated out of him. He tossed the shovel to the ground once more. What was he thinking actually doing manual labor? Waiting on her to come to him as if he were some inferior creature waiting upon her beck and call. Whatever power she had, at the end of the day, she was still human.
He abandoned the flowerbed and headed for the manor house. The thought of entering that building of iron and wood made his skin crawl. It would be even worse in his weakened state, but once he explained to Lady Thornton, the two of them could escape to the Thorn Court together. If it weren’t for the Twilight Queen’s meddling, he would have taken her there straight away. But soon, his troubles would be over; even Father couldn’t deny the significance of finding someone like Lady Thornton.
The white owl sat perched upon the roof of the pagoda as Ray came up the garden path. Her large golden eyes studied him. He often caught glimpses of her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t try to hide her spying now. Had she sensed Lady Thornton’s power as well? Or had word gotten back to his father already?
She said nothing as he passed by. Across the lawn, Mr. Rockwell worked, back bent in the vegetable garden. Ray kept to the path with one eye on Mr. Rockwell in case he turned in his direction. Luck was on his side for once. The pathway wound around and headed toward the kitchen right past Mr. Rockwell. Ray hid behind a shrub and waited to make sure Mr. Rockwell was distracted.
The kitchen yard was busy, and the back door open. Cooks’ shouts drifted out. A kitchen maid carrying a basket on her hip headed for the garden. Mr. Rockwellstood up to greet her. They spoke for a moment, and then she walked among the rows of spring vegetables. Mr. Rockwell turned his back to the door as he talked with her while she worked. Seeing his opportunity, he bolted for the kitchen door and slid inside in a blink.
Pots banged in the kitchen, and maids chatted together in the servant’s dining hall as they darned socks. The weight of iron made his skin clammy and his limbs weak. The quicker he went in and out, the better. He crept down the hall past Mrs. Morgan’s office, which was closed. This must be a sign from the Great Tree. The bottom step creaked as he stepped upon it, and he froze, half expecting all the humans to come running and demand to know what he was doing there. But none came running, and he eased his way up the stairs.
It had been years since he’d ventured into the main house and never before in the daylight. Sweat dripped down his forehead. The iron knob on the door taunted him. Touching it would burn. Footsteps approached, and he pressed his back against the wall. If he were caught, there would be questions he couldn’t answer. He licked his lips and pricked his ears. What could he say that wouldn’t arouse suspicion? He held his breath as the footsteps passed on by. He sighed and turned to face the door once more. No more waiting. He grasped the iron knob and turned. The iron seared his flesh, and he pulled it back with a hiss. The door opened a sliver, and he kicked it open the rest of the way.
Damn humans and their insistence on using iron in their homes. He grasped his wrist and looked at the throbbing red skin of his palm. He supposed it could have been worse. He peered out into the hall; there was no one about. Another stroke of luck. Now, where would Lady Thornton be? When he’d snuck in decades ago, he’d gone straight to his lover’s bed. Somehow he doubted Lady Thornton spent her days lying provocatively in her shift.
The hall he had exited onto was lined with closed doors. He could try each one, but each wrong choice would be another burn and further weaken him. The fatigue already made his feet feel leaden.
“Has he taken it?” Mrs. Morgan’s voice approached from down the corridor.
Ray sunk back into the shadows of the stairwell. By the Great Tree, don’t let her come down the stairs, or all would be ruined.
“He has, but the tonic is losing its effects. It’s a new moon tonight, and the symptoms are getting harder for him to control.”
New moon? How had he lost track of time? Father’s deadline. That must be why he had sent his messenger to see if he’d found the killer. He’d been so preoccupied with Lady Thornton he’d nearly forgotten. There was no time to find the killer. Bringing Lady Thornton to his father would have to be enough to appease him instead. But first, he had to find her.
“If everything goes to plan, he won’t need it ever again...” Mrs. Morgan’s voice faded away.
Ray waited for a few beats before stepping out of the stairwell and into the hall proper. He had no choice but to go in the opposite direction of where Mrs. Morgan and the man had gone. He hurried along the corridor, which ended on a sunlit room, which ancient’s blessed, was open. Ray stepped inside and found Lady Thornton sitting beside an open window, her gaze fixed on the forest. A gentle breeze rustled through her hair, and light illuminated golden beams in her brunette locks. It was brief, but for a moment, she reminded him of someone he thought long buried in his memory.
She turned to look at him and stood abruptly. The book in her hand fell to the ground with a thump.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes wide as her gaze darted to the doorway behind him.
He couldn’t risk them being found alone together, and he shut the doors behind him. She backed up, eyes darting around in the same frightened way she had when he first brought her to Faery. But he thought they’d come to an understanding. What had changed? Was this why she had avoided him for days since their return?
Ray held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Lady Thornton, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been waiting to speak with you to explain about your powers.”
