Page 107 of A Wayward Movement

He shrugged. “Because, as I warned might be the case, the double transfer weakened the linking enchantment too much. My best guess is that its range has been significantly reduced. You could still feel where she was if she were within a certain distance of you. But she must already be out of reach.” He coughed apologetically. “Our intention was always for the one carrying this end of the enchantment to stay close to the target, and follow as soon as the target was taken.”

“So why did we stay here all night, letting them get further away?” Xavier demanded in frustration.

“Well, Your Highness, without knowing which direction to go…” The man trailed off, clearly seeing that Xavier wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.

“The point is, we need to get close enough to wherever they’ve taken her to allow the linking enchantment to work,” Xavier said.

But where? He didn’t want to pick the wrong direction and get further and further away. He needed to think. If only his mind wasn’t so sluggish. He’d been unable to sleep at all.

“They transported her somehow,” he said. “A carriage, a cart, something. I know none of her close neighbors saw anything, but someone else might have seen a vehicle moving through town last night. Now the sun is up, we can start questioning.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the craftsman agreed. “Captain Mitchell has already started that process.”

Xavier nodded, although he didn’t feel hopeful. It hadn’t even been late when Alina had been taken. There could have been any number of vehicles still on the streets at that hour. But they had to start somewhere.

A servant appeared a moment later with a fresh basin of water. Xavier dashed some on his face, then followed the craftsman downstairs. He found Captain Mitchell coordinating a group of investigators. The captain took in Xavier’s state with one swift glance, then dismissed his team to their tasks.

“You have to sleep, Your Highness,” he said, turning to face the prince.

“I’ll sleep when we find her,” Xavier said curtly.

“I take it the linking enchantment hasn’t sharpened with time,” the captain said.

Xavier ran a hand down his face. “I’m going to join the questioning.”

Ignoring the captain’s protests, he made his way outside. He’d forgotten that it was a market day. It was inconceivable to him that life was continuing as normal when Alina had been snatched away from him, but people were already gathering in anticipation of the day’s activities. Xavier saw a group of women clustered by a small fountain that adorned the square outside the inn. Frowning at the group, he realized he recognized one of them.

He strode across the square, taking in the furrowed brows and somber air of the women.

“Good morning,” he greeted them.

They started, hastening to attempt curtsies. Xavier focused his attention on the one called Ellen. Alina had called her the town busybody.

“Your Highness,” one of the other women said in greeting. She looked at her fellows then blurted out, “Is it true young Benji was taken last night?”

“Yes,” said Xavier, noting the dismay on all their faces. “And Alina as well.”

A couple of small gasps and clucked tongues told him this gossip was new. He watched Ellen, seeing that she looked very ill at ease. She kept straightening the shawl she wore over her head.

Xavier examined the garment, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“That’s a very fine shawl,” he said abruptly.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” She patted it, distracted from her concern for a moment.

“Is it new?” Xavier pressed.

This time she didn’t meet his eye as she acknowledged it. Xavier’s scrutiny moved critically over her whole form, taking in every detail of her gown’s embroidery, the buckles on her shoes, and the floral scent that wafted faintly from her.

He straightened. Thanks to the questionable way he’d spent much of his time for the last ten years, he knew a great deal more about women’s fashion than most men. Certainly Ellen moved in different circles from the ladies of the court. But Xavier had spent enough time in the region to know what was normal.

And Ellen was wearing the finest garb available locally. It was a subtle but significant difference from her attire when he’d first seen her.

“What do you do for work?” he asked her. “Ellen, isn’t it?”

She shuffled her feet. “Yes, Your Highness. I keep chickens.”

“Ah yes,” Xavier said pleasantly. “You supply eggs to the refinement site, don’t you?”