They were nearly to their destination when she caught the attention of a couple thugs who looked her up and down menacingly. If Ludwig were there, he would have provided her with a change of clothes from her silk and brocade that screamed “rob me”. Then when their eyes slid over to Erich, they seemed to lose interest, and she was glad she’d brought him along after all.
She found Knoll’s Apothecary at the end of a street deep in Onyx Gang territory. Paint peeled off the sign, but Knoll’s was still legible. Like most buildings on that street, it looked abandoned. Age had faded the exterior, and cobwebs gathered in its grimy windows.But when Liane tested the door, it swung open onto a silent crypt-like shop. Glassy-eyed creatures floating in murky liquid stared vacantly at her as she approached the dusty counter.
“Hello?” Liane said.
No response.
“I don’t think anyone is here,” Erich said from the doorway to the shop, nose crinkled as he peered into a murky jar sitting by the door.
“You’re supposed to stay outside,” Liane said.
“This place gives me a bad feeling. I won’t ask about your business but at least let me stay close.”
She should send him out; letting him get this involved was a risk. But she couldn’t bring herself to dismiss him. The quiet and stillness had set her on edge as well. Then she heard shuffling footsteps coming from the back room behind the counter. The door was ajar, and leaning over the counter, she tried to peer through it.
“I think I heard someone. Wait here,” Liane said to Erich as she leapt over the counter. With her foot, she eased open the door, which creaked ominously. “Anyone—” Liane swallowed her words.
A trail in the dust marked the tread of the shopkeeper, but it had been disturbed; footsteps seemed to indicate a struggle. Inching closer, she found a man lying splayed on the ground, his throat cut and crimson blood stained his cream shirt. Stumbling backward, she crashed into a shelf, and an object near the top teetered before crashing onto the floor, releasing a putrid, acidic stench. Liane covered her mouth, but it did little to lessen the smell.
Erich rushed over to her, grasping for an empty sheath as he surveyed the scene before kneeling down beside the corpse and dipping two fingers into the blood.
“It’s warm. This happened recently—”
A clatter of objects falling from a shelf cut him off, and Erich signaled for her to stand behind him before scooting around the shelf. Heart in her throat, Liane followed him and saw a fallen crate lying overturned on the ground. As Erich inched closer to investigate, it groaned and wobbled.
“Watch out!” Liane shouted.
Erich leapt out of the way before falling shelves and stock cascaded down where he’d been standing. A person wearing all black darted between shelves, hobbling toward the back door. Climbing over debris, she chased after them as they exited out onto the back alley. Their black hood and average height and build gave her no clues as to their identity, but she was certain they were connected to Heinrich. They turned the corner out of the alleyway, and Liane noted the pronounced limp of their right leg. She intended to follow the culprit, but a hand grasped hold of her shoulder. Liane spun around, hands raised to defend herself.
“Don’t bother chasing him. A man agile on a bad leg isn’t someone you want to fight,” Erich said.
She didn’t like it, but he was right, and seeing as they’d killed the apothecarist, Heinrich was already covering his tracks. Though she’d failed to capture him, she’d gained a critical clue. She had to find the limping killer, and she thought she knew where to look.
19
Dragging his lead feet up the townhouse steps, Erich sighed. That’d quite possibly been the longest night of his life. Or should he say day, as the midday sun burned down upon him. It’d been a full day since he’d left the embassy for the opera. If he weren’t committed to his ruse, he would’ve denied Prince Mathias’ request, and if he weren’t a damned fool, he wouldn’t have traipsed all over the city after Liane. As he reached for the door handle, it swung open and Erich, thrown off balance, stumbled over the threshold. Catching the door frame, he saved himself from landing face-first onto the marble tile.
“Welcome back, your majesty,” the servant said in a monotone greeting. There were dark circles under his eyes.
“Didn’t sleep either?” Erich asked. He’d spent a restless night in the palace, jumping at every creak of wood and footstep passing by. No one was being let out that night, and he’d been lucky enough to get a private room rather than sleep in the entry hall with the other guests.
“I was awaiting your return, your majesty,” he said with a stiff nod.
Guilt struck him like a blow to the gut. He hadn’t considered the servants whose job it was to greet him, in case he came stumbling in drunk late at night.
“Forgive me; I should have sent word,” Erichsaid, rubbing a palm over his face.
“It is an honor to serve the future king of Sundland.” He bowed his head.
A crawling, uneasy feeling skittered across his skin. He’d never go back to Sundland, even after he was cured. After they stole the sword tonight, he’d leave the city as fast as possible before rumors of him reached his father.
“Either way, you should get some rest now. I’ll be in my room.”
“You humble me, your majesty, but I must see your needs are met first. Is there anything I can get for you?”
Erich was about to refuse when the aroma of baking bread wafted down the hall. There hadn’t been time for breakfast or lunch, and if he wanted to steal the sword tonight, he’d have to eat something and perhaps change his stained clothes.A bath and a shave wouldn’t go amiss either, he thought, rubbing his stubbled chin. After tonight such luxury would be scarce. With the time he had left before sundown, he might indulge a bit.
“I’d like a bowl of warm water sent up to my room, and some soap, if you have it?” Erich said.
