Gwen hesitated. ‘I told Isobelle we’d sit down with everyone and try to figure out what’s going on in this town, so we could go back to Darkhaven.’
And then what?Gwen asked herself – but she had no answer.
‘Right, then,’ said Orson, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll go fetch Tabitha, she’ll know how best to approach defeating a legend populated by potentially fictitious necromancers and the ghosts of witches.’ He paused, and added, ‘I might check with Sylvie too, she’s a surprisingly good strategist.We’ll make a plan and we’ll all discuss it tomorrow, together.’
Gwen looked up at him, past the dirty-blond stubble on his chin and the ragged, grown-out hair, seeing once more that shining Sir Awesome who had been Darkhaven’s hero before the mysterious Sir Gawain had swept in and stolen the county’s hearts. She hoped Isobelle had been right about him and Tabitha – he deserved someone.
She staggered to her feet. ‘Orson …’ she said, forestalling him as he turned towards the door. He glanced back at her, and she mumbled, ‘Thank you.’
He grinned. ‘Anytime, Sir Gwen. Us knights have to have each others’ backs when we break down sobbing in the middle of the night.’
Gwen rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, I take it all back: get out.’
17
Tonight, there would be magic
Isobelle was the last to breakfast the next morning. She woke from broken sleep with a heavy exhaustion she’d never felt before – not after the worst of her nights on the road, sleeping on the ground or sheltering from the rain.
Now, she was simply empty, strangely disconnected from herself. Hilde left her only long enough to fetch herself some fresh clothes, and then braided Isobelle’s hair for her while she sat quietly.
‘Come,’ Hilde said, linking an arm through hers. ‘We will go downstairs.’
When they arrived in the little room the innkeeper had set aside for them, Sylvie, Jane, Tabitha and Orson were already there, serving themselves from the pot of porridge stewing over the hearth. Isobelle watched them as if from a distance, and moved to take a seat, ignoring the breakfast offerings.
Then Tabitha stepped aside, and Isobelle saw Gwen.
Gwen looked up at that moment, and when their eyes met, a jolt ran through Isobelle’s whole body, her stomach twisting itself into a knot of distress.
Then Gwen turned back to the cup of tea she was making, and something inside Isobelle curled up as if to brace against a blow.
‘Here,’ Hilde said, setting a bowl of porridge down in front of Isobelle, who immediately nudged it away with one finger. Hilde shot her a startled look of alarm – an Isobelle too upset to eat was an Isobelle none of them had encountered before.
‘So,’ said Jane, dropping into a seat opposite. ‘What’s the plan for today?’
‘We figure out what’s going on in this town,’ Sylvie said, joining her. ‘What kind of spell or curse is in play.’
Everybody looked at Isobelle, waiting for her to take charge. Isobelle couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She wanted to go back to bed, curl up under the covers where nobody could reach her, and wait for the sleep that would free her from the need to deal with any of this.
The silence drew out as Orson took a seat beside Sylvie, Tabitha on his other side, and then Hilde brought over her own porridge. Only Gwen remained standing, focused on the tea she was making as thoughitwas what would save the town from enchantment.
Eventually, when it was apparent that Isobelle wasn’t going to say anything useful, Sylvie sipped her tea andtook over instead. She was clad in one of her usual black dresses, though it was cut fetchingly and she was certainly wearing a hint of colour on her lips that wasn’t strictly a part of the average widow’s wardrobe.
‘It’s time for a council of war,’ she declared. ‘We can’t just meander around, asking people what they think, chasing the fairytales that people tell their children. We need to find out more about whatreallyhappened here. Old Gargery was helpful last night. His lordship, on the other hand, clearly doesn’t think there’s much of a threat.’
Isobelle folded her hands in her lap, wishing they weren’t so cold. Some part of her was grateful that her friends were here to carry the load when she was tired. The rest of her was too numb to think properly.
Gwen finally came to join them at the table. The others had left the chair next to Isobelle’s free out of habit, and she was painfully aware of the other girl’s presence as she moved behind her, her skin prickling at Gwen’s nearness.
Gwen sank down into her chair, and then set down the cup of tea she’d been making so carefully, sliding it over until it rested in front of Isobelle.
In her surprise, Isobelle forgot herself, and looked up. Gwen’s green-eyed gaze was waiting for her once more, and though it was guarded, it wasn’t hostile. Then she looked away again.
Isobelle lifted the cup, taking a careful sip. It was loaded with cream and an exorbitant amount of honey, exactly as she liked.
The warmth of the tea spread inside her, thawing her insides.
Gwen had said they’d figure out what was happening here in Galanty-Uponne-the-Sea, and then she’d take Isobelle back to Darkhaven.
