“Hey!” the man cried in surprise. But we were divided by his wide table. I ran my fingers down the column, scanning the day’s entries, and flipped one page back. A man and woman had checked in late the night before.
“Terrible penmanship,” I reproved. To Otto, I said, “Upper north corner,” and set the ledger back on the desk.
“You can’t do that,” the innkeeper growled.
Otto shrugged in apology and put another coin on the table.
“Two floors up on the left side.” The man sighed, dejectedly collecting the second coin.
We knocked on the door and waited. The ceilings were low, and Otto’s head nearly touched one of the wooden beams that crossed the hall. After a few moments, when no one had answered, I knocked again.
“Simeon,” Otto called, loud enough to be heard on the other side.“Open the door.” When we were met with silence, he knocked, more forcefully. After a long moment, he stepped back. “Perhaps they are here no longer.”
Our journey up until that point had been hypothetical. Everything a long shot. And felt a long shot still. But we stood in front of the door we had sought, and I would not just turn around. I would not give up. Not when I was sacrificing so much, to come this far. Not when I had not followed Lucy. If they were inside, I would get through.
“Elin,” I called, banging more loudly. “Elin, it is Ethel. Open up.”
Another door down the hall yanked inward, and a man stuck out his head to see what the commotion was about. “Pipe down,” he called, scraggly eyebrows knit into a scowl.
“You pipe down,” I retorted.
“You—” He eyed Otto, standing beside me. His sword in its scabbard. The man slammed his door.
I turned back to banging on the wood in front of me. “Elin—”
The door opened. She stood on the other side of the frame, fully dressed. “Hello, Stepmother,” she said, evenly. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be barricaded in a room at an inn a two-day ride from home.
Still, I felt immediate relief, seeing her in front of me, in one piece, with no marks on her skin—a picture, at least, of bodily health. I tried to see around her, inside the room, but could make out only the end of a made bed and an oversized chest. “Did you marry?” I demanded.
“Where is Simeon?” Otto nudged beside me.
Elin pulled the door open an inch farther, and then stopped herself. She was surprised to see Otto with me, the confusion plain on her face. “Hello, Otto,” she said, politely. “How do you do?”
The girl had run away from home, defied every rule of proper behavior, and was still acting as though we were dropping by for tea unannounced. “Did youmarry?” I repeated.
“No—” she began, and my relief surged. She pursed her lips.“Simeon is not here. He will be back soon. He ran out of coin and is off to get more.” She paused, hesitant. “He said not to let anyone in.”
I worried, from the way the door wavered in her hands, that she might push it shut in our faces. “He meant strangers,” I said, quickly. “You’re traveling, after all. It’s wise advice. But I am family.” The invocation of the word felt false, but I pushed forward. “Otto is Simeon’s closest advisor.” I took a step toward her, willing her to let us in. “We’ve come to take you home. Surely, you must see something wrong with this situation. Why would a prince run away with you? With no guards and no retinue?”
She fidgeted with the trim on her kirtle, and I saw her cuticles had been gnawed ragged. “To marry me!”
“And yet”—I lowered my voice—“you are staying with a man alone in an inn, and you are not married. What would your book of virtues have to say on the subject?”
“He means to marry me. And it is a woman’s duty—a wife’s duty—to do as her husband wishes.” She swallowed and began to sway on her feet. “You do not think he means to marry me?”
“Please listen to us.” I lowered my voice. “Otto is Simeon’s own man. This situation is not right. Surely you can see that. Surely all your dreams of being swept off your feet did not look like a flea-infested room at an inn.”
“I did not see any fleas,” Elin protested. But she bit her lip and took a step back. I pushed through the doorway. Inside, I saw the room was simply appointed, with a table and chairs, the oversized four-poster bed, and a wash basin. A mirror leaned on the mantel above the small fireplace, and I could see in its reflection that Simeon was not present.
Elin sagged against one of the four posts of the bed. I looked around for smelling salts, but she steadied herself and turned to me. “You have not heard what he has said to me. The kindnesses. The words of… my nature!”
I reached for her. “Compliments are not kindnesses.”
“He means to marry you,” Otto said, coming into the room behind me. “And that is the problem.”
Elin’s face clouded further.
“Just come with us and hear what we have to say.”
