Page 15 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

Hopefully conniving enough to see them through this mess.

“Before I decide anything, there is one more witness I need to speak to,” Night said.

Malcolm slunk forward in his seat, disappointed he still needed to wait. Hope had sparked inside him. It churned through his gut. He didn’t know what he’d do if it got snuffed out. This was bad. Unrest in the north of the Lunar Province made it worse. The king needed to keep people calm. Guilty or not, simply hanging the witch could prevent more fighting.

But surely his king was too noble for that.

Break her free,Solis said, floating near his shoulder.Kill all who get in our path, and run away with her.

And abandon everything? His father’s estate? The workers and tenants who depended on him, and the king he swore allegiance to? Malcolm couldn’t do such a reckless thing. He certainly shouldn’t for a murderess. Between what happened to Harrow in her woods and the strange attack on the village, she wasn’t looking particularly innocent.

Gods above, but he couldn’t let anyone harm her either, even if she earned their vengeance.

Night left the desk and opened the door. He spoke with the warden from the threshold. Solis melted into the floor, doing his best impersonation of an appropriate shadow. Minutes later, Mr. Barrows returned with a villager, a human woman with ebony skin and long hair tucked beneath an intricately patterned scarf. She dropped into a low curtsy to honor her king, a shorter curtsy to honor the marquess, and then a chair was given to her, centered in the small office. Barrows stood by the door.

The woman fidgeted uncomfortably, then folded her slender hands in her lap over her skirts. “Thank you for seeing me, Lord King,” she said, bowing her head.

“Your name, girl?” the warden asked.

“Lindiwe Zuma,” the woman said, lips forming into a firm line of irritation.

“Miss Zuma, I’m told you were nearest the witch when the attack occurred,” Night prompted gently.

“Yes.” She wrung her hands in her skirts. “Hrafn saved me. She protected me with her wings. You cannot believe she caused all this. I know what they’re saying, but she couldn’t have done it. Harrow too—he’s alive because of her, but still he shouts against her. I can’t understand that. The worst of the attack came down right on top of us, and she kept us safe.”

Barrows scoffed. “You’re the first to come to her defense. The entire village believes the way Harrow does.”

“She was hurt, too! Why not spare herself from the attack entirely?” Lindiwe said, voice strengthening. “If she called those birds, why be so brave for a stranger like me and a man like Harrow who was so rude to her at market? I’ve always considered myself an excellent judge of character, and I’m telling you she didn’t do this. Right away I recognized the good in her.”

“What did you speak of with her before the birds came?” Night asked.

“Trade mostly. She keeps a smelly hawk for a pet. He’s beautiful, but he stinks like a sulfur pit.” Her nose wrinkled.

“The men that brought her in,” Malcolm asked the room, “were any of them harmed?”

“None were harmed, but Harrow had iron on him,” Barrows said dismissively. “She wasn’t given much of a chance to fight them.”

“I felt her strength as she protected me. When the men came for her, she could have hurt them. She shouted her innocence, but she surrendered. Why not fight to free herself? Why not use the power that called upon the birds to chase them off? That’s what I would have done. Wouldn’t you?”

“We’re only interested in what you saw, Miss Zuma,” Barrows said. “Not your speculation.”

“I won’t pretend I know much about magic, but I didn’t see her cast any spells.” She paused then. “There was only one thing she said that seemed strange to me at all.”

The room filled with silence. Muscles in Malcolm’s neck and shoulders went taut as he waited for Miss Zuma to gather herself.

Lindiwe worried her upper lip and straightened her skirts down over her knees. “Moments before the attack, I heard her say, ‘the monster is free.’ I don’t know what she meant by that.”

The hope sparking in Malcolm’s gut brightened. If some monster was responsible, then his mate might yet see the light of day once more.

“Barrows,” Night said, “please see that Miss Zuma has something to eat. She’s been waiting here to speak with us all day.”

Barrows’ mustache bristled, probably at the notion of being turned into a servant in his own prison, but he didn’t put up a fuss. He guided Lindiwe out into the hall like a gentleman.

When they were alone again, Night folded his arms across his chest, wrinkling his royal sash. He studied Malcolm for a time, fingers skating across the stubble on his cheek. “She’s under arrest. She’sremainingunder arrest. I can’t just hand her over to you to do as you please, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Sure you can,” Malcolm said. Solis lifted off the floor, thickening into his wraith-like form. “You heard Miss Zuma. Some monster is the one responsible.”

“The witch would not speak with me,” Night mused. “Fae do not like to lie. I’d feel better about all of this if she’d simply state her truth.”

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