He shook his head. “Simone has already questioned each one of us and we have thought hard about their disappearances, but none can remember seeing them leave.”
Disappointed but not surprised, Horland made his way along the road toward the Forest of Uther.
Chapter 3
Before Bree could think about floating in the darkness of time, she landed with a thump and fell to her hands and knees. She kept still, waiting for her molecules to stop buzzing around her body and brain. She shivered. She would never get used to the feeling of travel and wondered if Dianne or Mark ever did.
Once her sight cleared and she focused on her surroundings, she sat back on her heels and flung her arms in the air. Dianne had distinctly told her she would arrive close to the king’s location. She assumed that would be in the castle, but here she was, in the middle of nowhere.
She looked from left to right. On one side was a road, a hole-filled dirt road, and on the other was a forest so jammed with trees she could not see in. She got up on shaky legs and peered up and down the road, but couldn’t see any signs of a castle, not one turret or tower.
She didn’t even know if she was in Great Briton, let alone Cornwall. No. She had to be in the right country—that was where her father lived, and she knew the coordinates were set correctly. But she should have arrived in King Pradwick’scastle, not in the middle of who knew where. She regarded her surroundings again and spotted a small army of horsemen round a corner and disappear off in the distance.
She sucked in a noisy breath.Unless King Pradwick was here, and I’ve missed him. That’s what happened to Izzy. Her contact, the duke, had just left the commerce area of Fleet Street as she arrived.
“Just my luck. Now what am I supposed to do?”
She sat down on the grassy road edge, crossed her legs, and put the orb in one of her black cloak’s pockets. With a long-drawn-out sigh, she rested her chin in her hands and stared at the ground. Spying a pretty, yellow flower, she tried to pull it out of the ground, but it wouldn’t budge. “Fine, then I’ll cut you out.”
She felt around in her many pockets for her tool kit but couldn’t find it. She searched the area around her but then punched her knee. She’d left the kit on the bench.
Staring at the flower, she laughed. “You look better there than in my hair anyway.”
Sounds of wheels crushing the rocky dirt sounded behind her, and she turned. A wagon rolled across the ground followed by three men on horses. The skinny, gray-haired driver pulled up the horses beside Bree and waited for the men to circle her.
“Lookie here. The gods must be smiling down at us today.”
Bree breathed a sigh of relief. Even though the driver spoke English it wasn’t comforting. He leered at her.
Two of the men dismounted and one of them, a dirty red-haired brute, hauled Bree to her feet and said something in some archaic language. Bree guessed it was Cornish Celtic because it had a different feel to the Scottish Gaelic her cousin, Abby’s husband, spoke. If it was Cornish at least she was in the right country. She frowned. What if it was Welsh or Irish, even?
Even though she didn’t know exactly what he said, she definitely got the idea by the way he leered at her.
Thoughts raced through Bree’s mind. She was alone on a deserted road surrounded by four dirty, gross men. Her heart sped up and her nerves shivered through her as she tried to squirm out of his grasp. “Let me go.”
“Get her in the cage,” the driver said.
The other brute on the ground, a small curly-haired man, hurried to the back of the wagon and pulled off the cover, revealing said cage. Bree turned away, ready to run, but Big Red grabbed her arm. Nearly pulling it out of its socket, he tugged her to the back of the wagon while the smaller man unlocked the cage door.
Bree twisted and squirmed, but his hold was too tight for her to escape his grip. She lifted her boot up and slammed her heel backwards into Big Red’s shin. He squealed but instead of loosening his grip, he squeezed her so hard, pain shot up her arm. She cried out.
The dark-haired man on his horse said something to Big Red.
Big Red answered, his tone sounding sullen to Bree.
The small man nodded and laughed.
The horse rider flicked his hand at Big Red, and said,“Kowel, saha.”
Red answered tightly,“Mynnav.”
Bree frowned at their conversation. Definitely Cornish. She knewmynnavmeant yes andkowelwas either the verb or noun in the horse rider’s sentence.
The mounted man sneered, exposing a missing front tooth. The tone of his voice when he spoke made no mistake: he was giving orders.
So Toothless was the boss then. Bree shivered. He looked meaner than the other two combined.
Big Red picked Bree up and slammed her onto the wire-bottomed floor of the cage. She grimaced.Kowelobviously meant cage.
