Blooms of Consequence (Dusk Gate Chronicles - Book Four) Page 24

  “What about it?” Ben’s voice startled her – she hadn’t even heard him coming up behind her. He must have been what had made the noise earlier.

  “That,” she said. “The fact that we don’t know who might be out here, who might overhear us at any time. Is it really safe to be calling me anything that might give away information we don’t really want to be sharing?”

  “She’s right, Father,” Ben said, coming to kneel beside the fire. When Marcus finished pouring water from the kettle into two metal mugs, Ben reached for a nearby water container to refill it.

  “Yes. It’s a very good point, milady,” Marcus said. “Be careful with this now; it’s hot.” He stretched across the circle to set a steaming metal mug on the ground in front of her. Carrying a cup of his own, he retreated to a large rock. “What are you suggesting we call you, then?”

  “Just Quinn would be fine with me, at least while we’re traveling.”

  Both men looked uncomfortable. “How about Lady Quinn?” Ben asked. “It’s an appropriate title for a guest of the castle or even a lesser princess, which you would be anyway by virtue of your marriage to Prince William.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “Fair enough, Lady Quinn,” Ben said, the edges of his mouth almost quirking up into a smile.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of William exiting their tent. He smiled, but walked in the opposite direction from them, into the thick trees. Very soon, she was going to have to take a similar trip, but she could wait a bit longer. “What is the status of everything after last night’s storm?” she asked. “Was anything damaged?”

  “No, there’s been no damage, milady. At least not to anything other than our progress at traveling.”

  She nodded. “We should get back on the trail as soon as possible this morning. How far are we from Cloud Valley now?”

  “Not far enough.” This time the voice that was much too close to her ear was unfamiliar. Her blood ran cold as Marcus and Ben rose instantly, both pulling swords from the sheaths that hung on their belts.

  A scream caught in her throat as a hand wrapped around her upper arm, but Ben was fast. She wasn’t sure how he got around the fire so quickly – he might have stepped over it – but an instant later she was behind him, away from the man who had grabbed her. She backed up quickly until she was sandwiched between Ben and Marcus.

  The fair-haired man on the other side of the fire circle was well-built and imposing; the sharply shaved edges of his close-cropped beard somehow made him even more intimidating. But although the firm lines of his muscles were visible through his linen shirt, his stance and the inelegant hold he had on the hilt of his sword betrayed his lack of training and skill. He was no match for either Marcus or Ben.

  Or he wouldn’t have been, by himself. A movement in the trees behind the man alerted her to the fact that he wasn’t alone. She surreptitiously nudged Ben with her elbow. His head didn’t move, but she saw his eyes sweep the perimeter of their campsite.

  “Five,” he breathed.

  How Marcus could communicate without moving or changing his expression at all, she would never know, but she saw him acknowledge the information.

  Suddenly the weight of the leather sheath on her leg was comforting, as was the knowledge that she’d have no problem hitting her mark at this distance if she needed to – not that she wanted to. She couldn’t stop staring at the man; something about him was familiar, although she had no idea why. She was almost certain she didn’t know him.

  “What are you doing here?” the man asked, at the same time she heard one of the tents rustling and someone stepping out. She didn’t look to see who it was.

  “We’re just passing through,” Marcus said, his voice completely level. “Who are you?”

  The man shook his head. “You first.”

  “Weston Cook.” Everyone turned at the sound of Nathaniel’s voice. Two of the men in the trees moved forward, drawing knives; she noted with relief that the man who’d tried to grab her was the only one who had a sword.

  Nathaniel stepped away from his tent and walked down toward the fire. He moved casually, seeming relaxed, but she saw the wariness in his eyes. He nodded at Marcus and Ben, and then stepped toward the man.

  “Doctor Rose?” The man frowned, looking carefully at all of them.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “What are you doing out here? What is all of this?”

  “These are my friends; we were on our way to Eli’s clinic in Cloud Valley last night when we got caught in a rainstorm. We don’t mean harm to you. Could you and your friends put away your weapons?”

  The man – Weston Cook – relaxed his hold on the hilt of his sword, but didn’t let go. Now that she had a name, she realized that the man was, indeed, familiar to her. His daughter – Katie, she thought her name was, had been treated in the Cloud Valley clinic for shadeweed poisoning the last time Quinn had visited there.

  William must have been waiting in the trees for an opportunity to move in safely, because he came running into the clearing just then, coming to stand right next to her. “Mister Cook?”

  Weston turned to look at him. “Prince William?”

  “Yes, it’s me. How is your little girl – Katie, right?”

  The man relaxed a little more, taking a step closer. None of the others came out of the trees, though. “Yes, that’s right. She is doing well – no thanks to whoever is planting shadeweed around these parts and trying to poison our children.”

  “Well, it isn’t us, Weston, if that’s what you’re thinking, though I don’t blame all of you for being concerned when you find intruders out here. We want nothing more than to put a stop to it ourselves.” Nathaniel said.

  “But that’s not why you’re here, is it? You didn’t come out here to put a stop to it.”

  “Directly? No. We have reason to believe that the source of the poisoning is coming from Philotheum.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “We know it is, or at least some of us do. Though there are some who believe someone in the kingdom is doing it to our own citizens.”

  “I think that’s what Hector and Tolliver want us to believe.”

  “What we don’t understand is why Stephen isn’t doing anything about this situation in Philotheum.”

  “He is, Weston. He’s closed the borders.”

  “And what is that accomplishing, except preventing some of us from traveling and being with our families? And escalating a battle between our kingdoms? He could end this and restore peace.”

  “What do you want to see happen, Weston? The king hand off his daughter to Tolliver – give in to Hector’s demands?”

  “It would solve the problem.”

  “Would it?” Quinn asked, fighting back her anger at his callous statement. “Do you really think that would be the end of Tolliver, if he thought Stephen was so weak?”

  “Who are you?” Weston asked.

  “Lady Quinn,” she said. “We met once before, when I visited the clinic in Cloud Valley with Prince William and Nathaniel.”

  The sound of a snapping twig distracted her, and she looked over in time to see two more people stepping out of the trees, a man and a woman.

  “Lady Quinn?” the woman said.

  Quinn looked at her. She was a young woman, maybe a few years older than Quinn herself. She had light brown hair and brown eyes. Her clothes and demeanor suggested that being in the woods and carrying a weapon like the knife at her belt wasn’t new to her. The way the man’s body moved with hers told her that they were a couple.

  The man, actually, was much more muscular, and moved with more skill than Weston. She wondered why Weston was the spokesman for their group, when there were clearly members who were more qualified.

  “Do I know you?” Quinn asked.

  “We’ve never met,” the woman answered. “But I know who you are. My name is Eloise Bennett, and this is my husband, Gene. We have a son, Elliott. He is being cared for right now
by Gene’s brother. I believe you met him.”

  Quinn sucked in a breath. “About seven cycles old?”

  “Yes. My sister-in-law tells me you saved his life, pulling him out of that tree house – that you even injured yourself in the process.”

  “I don’t know if it was that big of a deal, Mrs. Bennett…”

  “Eloise, please. I’ve been hoping ever since I heard that I would have the chance to meet you. I don’t have the words to tell you how grateful I am – we both are,” she said, looking at her husband, who nodded.

  “We think it’s a big deal,” Gene said.

  She looked at him. “Your sister-in-law told me that you two were in Philotheum…”

  “We were. We’ve only recently returned.”

  “Why?” she asked, more than a little suspicious. “What were you doing there? Are you from Philotheum?”

  Eloise glanced at her husband, and then over at Weston. He shook his head, but the woman shrugged, almost defiantly before reaching up to the collar of her shirt and drawing it back.

  She heard Marcus’ sharp intake of breath when the tattoo came into view. “You’re taking a very big risk showing us that.”

  Weston’s hand was on his sword again.

  “I know I am,” Eloise said. “But something tells me we can trust you.” Her eyes were on Quinn again. “I take it you all know what this means?”

  “We do,” said Quinn. “All of you?”

  The look that Weston shot her could have withered a tree, but Eloise nodded.

  “You hid it well,” Quinn said, looking at Weston, “with all your talk of compromising with Hector.”

  “Hiding it is the point,” he spat, his gaze still on Eloise. “I guess now is the time to really hope it’s true that Stephen is sympathetic to our cause?”

  “He is more than sympathetic,” Nathaniel said, pulling back his own collar. “Stephen is a Friend of Philip, as well.”

  Weston put his hand in the air and waved. The two other people who’d been hiding in the trees stepped out; both of them were men, one maybe Simon’s age, and another who appeared to be closer to Nathaniel’s.

  “All of you?” Weston asked. Marcus, Quinn, William, and Ben all pulled back their collars.

  “So does Stephen have a plan, then? Some direction we may be able to take?”

  “He does,” Quinn said. “Maybe you should all come sit down and we can explain.”

  20. Responsible

  “Should you be doing that?” Mia’s voice surprised Thomas enough that he nearly dropped the sword he’d been practicing with.

  He turned to face her. “I have to do something to keep my mind occupied. Might as well be this, in case I ever get my hands on the person who took Linnea.”

  Mia’s eyes widened. His younger brother, Josh, who had been practicing with him, walked away from them, suddenly busying himself organizing the weapons along the far wall of the gymnasium.

  “You wouldn’t actually hurt someone, would you, Thomas?”

  “Would I want to? No. But if I had to, Mia…”

  She sighed. “I know, Thomas. That wasn’t what I meant, anyway. I meant, should you be flinging a sword around so soon, with this?” She placed her hand over his chest. Even through both his shirt and the thick bandage, her touch made him flinch. She dropped her hand instantly.

  “I don’t have time to be sensitive about it, Mia. I knew what I was getting into.”

  Yesterday, after Linnea had been taken, and Quinn and William were preparing to leave, Thomas had gone to his father. He’d been willing to compromise before on waiting until his sixteenth birthday to join the Friends of Philip, but he wasn’t anymore.

  To his relief, his father hadn’t objected at all; the only difficulty had been the close timing. It wasn’t an ideal time to be recovering from the painful procedure. But he was determined that it wasn’t going to slow him down.

  “Yes, you did,” Mia answered, “but it’s only been half a cycle for me – I still remember what it was like.” She put her hand over her chest, where her tattoo was.

  “I’m fine, Mia,” he said, kissing her on the nose. “I would be more fine if I was out searching for Linnea, but I understand why it’s better for me to stay here right now.”

  “Have you had any news?”

  “No. It would have been difficult with the rain last night, but I’m hoping sometime soon.”

  With the connection between his bird and William’s, Thomas was best equipped to maintain the lines of communication between the castle and William’s group. William’s move to Philotheum was going to be a challenging transition for the birds. Eventually, he was sure, one of them was going to be short a companion bird – probably him – the birds would be likely to both follow their offspring to Philotheum.

  For now, though, they seemed to be tolerating the traveling. Thomas had the large doors to the gymnasium open, listening for the birds. He expected Aelwyn to come sometime soon with an update from the travelers. Most of the other seeker birds in the castle were busy tracking Linnea’s bird, Zylia, to see if she could find her master.

  Thomas’ bird, Sirian, though, was being kept at the castle in case they had a message to send in a hurry.

  “I hope so, too,” Mia said. “Will you let me know if you hear anything?”

  “Of course.”

  She nodded. “I need to get back to the children. But I wanted to come and check on you.”

  “Thanks,” Thomas said, pulling her into his arms, and kissing her. As he pulled back, he caught a glimpse of something through the doorway that stopped him short. “I’ll see you in a little while?”

  “Lunch in an hour. I’ll have some sent up to the common room. For you too, Josh,” she said. Thomas hadn’t even realized his little brother was still in the room.

  “Josh, have you seen Maxwell today?” Thomas asked, after Mia left.

  “No. I’m not sure I remember the last time I saw him, actually. Why?”

  “No reason. Can you watch for Raeyan or Aelwyn for me for a while?”

  “Sure.”

  Leaving Josh behind in the gymnasium, Thomas ran back into the castle and dashed up the stairs. He reached Maxwell’s room just in time to see his brother touching the doorknob.

  “Where in the hell have you been, Max?” he spat. “Everyone is frantic with worry, William and Quinn are on their way to Philotheum in the middle of a splicking war, and you’re what? Off with your girlfriend?”

  Max pushed the door open and held his hand out, gesturing Thomas inside.

  Once they were in, Thomas noticed that his brother didn’t look right. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. Of course, they probably all looked like that right now.

  “Seriously, Max, what is the matter with you?”

  Maxwell closed his eyes, putting his hand on his forehead. “Thomas…I think I’ve made a big mistake.”

  “Aside from the obvious, you mean? Abandoning your family when something like this is going on? Look, I know you haven’t agreed with all of Father’s decisions, and that you’re upset you weren’t told about Quinn, but this?”

  Max looked stricken. “I know, Thomas. I’m sorry. I was so stupid…”

  A sick feeling settled in Thomas’ stomach. “What’s going on?”

  “You know Catherine and I have been getting closer lately…”

  “I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

  “I should have realized it…should have noticed. I liked her, Thomas, or I thought I did…we had our issues, but she understood my frustrations with what was going on, and she understood how I felt. I should have noticed, paid attention. She’d been asking so many questions lately – never all at the same time of course, but a few at a time – about Quinn and William, about what’s going on between Eirentheos and Philotheum…about the castle.”

  All of the blood drained from Thomas’ face. “Max…no.”

  “Yeah, I think so. I realized last night that I hadn’t hear
d from her since right after the wedding, that she left early, said her brother was coming to pick her up…and all of the pieces started coming together. I went this morning, rode out to her family’s home, and they’re gone. Nobody is there. And it doesn’t look like they’re coming back.”

  “Max, we have to go. We have to tell Father, tell Simon and Luke.”

  Luke Willoughby, Mia’s father, was their father’s head guard, now that Marcus had gone. They had all left the castle early this morning to follow up on some leads about where Linnea might have been taken.

  “I already sent a message; I don’t know what to do until they get back.”

  * * *

  Quinn was the first one to see the bird circling overhead as they rode. “It’s Sirian,” she called, and Marcus, who was leading the group, immediately stopped.

  “It’s too soon for Aelwyn to have gotten a message to the castle and Sirian to have gotten here already,” William said. “Maybe they’ve heard something.”

  “It’s my brother Thomas’ bird,” he said, addressing the newcomers in their group as he dismounted and made his way to where Sirian had landed gracefully a few feet away from them. The bird held out his leg so that William could open the silver canister.

  “What is it?” Nathaniel asked, climbing down and walking over to him.

  Quinn, too, dismounted from Dusk when she saw the alarmed expression on William’s face.

  “They think they know who might have taken Linnea,” he said, handing the note to Nathaniel.

  Everyone was off of their horses now.

  “Who?” Marcus said.

  “The family of Maxwell’s new companion, Catherine Whittier.”

  “Whittier?” Gene said, a strained sound in his voice. “Is her father Edmund Whittier?”

  “I’m not sure,” William said, “but that sounds right. Why?”

  “Their family and Hector’s go way back. His father was from Dovelnia, and shortly after Jonathan’s death, Hector brought them over to Philotheum. Edmund’s father, Callum, has been the head councilman of our village for many cycles.”

  “You don’t like him,” Quinn said, judging the expression on his face.