This didn’t feel quite like Gwen doing the absolute minimum required for her honour. This felt … like a gesture.
Isobelle took another tiny sip of the sweet tea, and let the warmth of it reach her limbs, along with a tiny, tiny flutter of hope.
Sylvie, not noticing the seismic upheavals happening inside Isobelle, was running through their intelligence by counting points off on her fingers. ‘There was a witch,’ she began. ‘A sorceress, as people called her. She controlled the local beasts, sent them mad, had them attack those who lived here. Perhaps she summoned actual monsters, though we don’t know that.’
‘Gwen literally just chopped one to bits,’ Jane protested.
‘We know there wasamonster,’ Sylvie granted her. ‘We don’t know if it’s connected to the sorceress. We can’t assume anything. Except …’ She glanced at Tabitha. ‘Do you know if your mother … was she a witch, like you?’
Surprise flashed across Tabitha’s features as she looked from Sylvie to Isobelle to Gwen, and back. ‘I don’t know,’she replied finally. ‘I was so young when she died, I barely remember her at all. My aunts never said anything, and my father had left long before that.’
Hilde got up and switched seats, so that she could sit next to Tabitha and reach out to take her hand. ‘Last night we spoke to Gargery and learned that it wasn’t just the sorceress the paladins dealt with … they took all the witches who lived here in Galanty-Uponne-the-Sea.’
Tabitha stared blankly at Hilde’s gentle face. ‘I don’t understand. Took how?’
‘Well …’ Hilde glanced over at the others. ‘We think they may have killed them. They were led away and never came back. So—’
‘So if my mother was a witch, she may not have been one of the sorceress’s victims at all. She might’ve been killed by the very men who were supposed to come here and protect her?’ Tabitha’s eyes burned with a sudden, intense fury. ‘What was it Lord Bingleton called them? The “shining paladins”?’
‘We’ll find out why, Tabitha,’ Sylvie cut in, her voice cool but firm. ‘We’ll find out what happened. Let’s focus on what we know.’
‘We know Bingleton’s spread the story that the sorceress had a lover,’ Orson said, picking up the list. ‘His lordship said he’s hiding out in the tower, trying to bring her back from the dead.’
‘Perhaps Lord Bingleton was closer to the truth than he knew,’ Tabitha suggested. ‘‘Perhaps her lover was real, and he has already raised her to attack the town that let the paladins murder her.’
‘A justifiable motive,’ Orson agreed, and Isobelle could have sworn she almost saw Gwen smile. It seemed Gwen was hopping on the same ship bound for a romance between Orson and Tabitha.
‘We’re speculating again,’ Sylvie pointed out, drawing all eyes back to her.
‘There is another thing we know,’ Hilde said, swallowing a healthy mouthful of porridge. ‘We know that somebody doesn’t want us poking around what happened here. Isobelle’s room was ransacked last night.’
Every pair of eyes around the table swivelled to Isobelle, who took a gulp of her sweet tea.
‘What did they want?’ asked Tabitha, her gaze intent. ‘Did they take anything, leave any clue?’
Maybe they wanted to ruin my life? If so, job well done.
Isobelle fought the need to look at Gwen, and instead made herself shrug. ‘They didn’t take anything. Not even my jewellery, which they left right out in the open.’
Sylvie leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. ‘It could be an attempt to drive us away, if they think we’re getting close to some truth they want to hide,’ she suggested. ‘We could go to the tower, but Bingleton has assured us there’s nothing there but an old ruin awaitingrenovation. Doesn’t it seem more likely that one of the townsfolk is behind all this?’
‘We could leave.’
All eyes turned to Gwen, whose voice had cut through the chatter. She sat gazing towards the window, its thick glazing distorting the view beyond so that the grey sky and greyer sea melded into a single monochromatic ripple.
Isobelle’s heart sank. Gwen wanted to go back to Darkhaven, to relieve herself of Isobelle, to have the space she so clearly desired. Isobelle clung tightly to her teacup, praying it wouldn’t shatter in her hands.
‘You want to run away?’ Orson broke the silence, frowning at her.
‘From what?’ Gwen eyed him, her manner with him much easier than it had been the last few days. ‘From a town that doesn’t want us here, and a few people who find it difficult to speak about an old tragedy? We’ve killed their sea monster and sampled the town’s offerings for their tour-ists. I can give it my seal of approval, which is why we came. It seems someone wants us to leave, so why not go?’
No one spoke. Not one person in the little gathering seemed to know what reply to give to the idea that Gwen, of all people, wanted to run.
Gwen rose to her feet, dipping her hand into her pocket and drawing out a much-folded piece of paper. ‘I’ve had a letter.’
Isobelle’s throat tightened so abruptly she nearly choked on her tea. Was Gwen really about to share the gory details of what had happened the night before? But no, the letter from her parents was still on her dressing table, in her room, and this …
Gwen had continued speaking. ‘It was waiting outside my door this morning. It’s from Darkhaven’s master-at-arms, Master Grimshaw. Evidently, it has occurred to Lord Whimsitt that he sent us off to a fun, relaxing travel destination, and that we might accidentally be having a good time, which, obviously, is not to be borne. Grimshaw writes that we are to return within a week or he will send the castle guard to fetch us home.’
