Page 87 of Edge of the Wild

“I ain’ttalking to you. Are you Amelia Drake, or not?”

As covertly as she could, Amelia searched the trees around them. A leaf rustled; a branch vibrated. “We’re surrounded,” she whispered. To the girl, she said, “Yes, I’m Amelia Drake–”

“Lia,” Malcolm hissed.

“I’d be grateful if you’d spare my men. They aren’t nobles, and anything they’ve done has been on my orders.”

Behind her, she heard the scrape of a sword leaving a scabbard.

“Don’t,” she ordered. “No weapons.” She passed Shadow’s reins beneath his neck, and pressed them against the back of Malcolm’s hand. “Take him, please.”

“Lia–”

He gripped the reins, though, and Amelia stepped forward, empty, gloved palms help up to show she meant no harm, breath steaming in the chill air.

“Is it the Sels?” she pressed, as she took another step, and another. “Are they encroaching on the forest?”

In the shade of the cloak’s hood, she saw a flash of dirty teeth, a nasty grin. “They tried. The ones who did – they didn’t leave the wood.”

“Good for you. We have common cause, then, you and me. Perhaps I could arrange a commendation for your service to the crown.”

A low, ugly laugh. “Ididn’t do nothing. Go over there.” Her head tipped toward a large beech tree at the edge of the forest – from behind which a similarly cloaked and hooded man stepped, a length of rope in his hands. “Don’t struggle.”

“I won’t,” she promised. “But I wish you’d tell me what this is about. I want to help.” Slowly, she moved toward her would-be captor, already running scenarios through her head. The Strangers weren’t known for kindness nor leniency – but she knew that she was a valuable hostage. “My mother is rich, you understand. She’ll pay handsomely for my safe return.”

She was close enough now to see the girl’s face – to see the youth in it, and the fear and consideration in her eyes. The desperation. This wasn’t a power play; the girl wasn’t gloating over her capture. There was something here, Amelia decided; a point of weakness she could exploit.

But nothing was ever so easy. Behind her, Malcolm shouted, “If you take her, you have to take all of us, fucking wood rats!”

The hooded girl’s head snapped around. Her hand flexed.

“No!” Amelia shouted.

But with a softthwap, the arrow flew.

~*~

“I promise I feel fine,” Tessa said for the fourth time.

Olaf, one of his eyes greatly enlarged behind the lens of the monocle he’d pressed to it, hummed and clucked and passed the candle flame in front of her face again. “Follow – good. Hm. Pupil response is normal.”

“I didn’t take anything, and I haven’t been drinking,” she said, trying not to huff, but, really, this was all so ridiculous.

Rune had not been content with an assurance that she would seek out the physician on her own if she should start to feel poorly. He’d insisted on escorting her there himself, gripping her elbow to support her – and nearly dragging her down the great staircase with him when his weakened knees threatened to give out. At another time, she would have laughed at the picture they must have made, clutching at each other and trying to keep their feet. Now, all her dizziness gone and her strength returned, Rune slumped down pale-faced on a stool and looking downright ill, she wanted to snap that, of the two of them, Olaf should have been treating the prince as a patient, not her.

The candle finally withdrew, and Olaf let the monocle dangle from its silver chain. He continued to frown. “This light you said you saw. It was blue?”

“Yes. Vivid blue.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t the sky.”

“Yes, I’m sure – but it was nothing. It couldn’t have been anything.”

Olaf stroked his beard, contemplative, then turned to his workstation. When he set the candle down, she saw that a thick tome lay open beside it; he scanned the page with a fingertip. “I keep careful case notes on every new patient I treat, and – ah. Here we are.” When he turned back, he managed to look triumphant with his brows furrowed; it was a particular sort of gleam in his eyes, she thought. “It’s as I first suspected: Oliver – er,LordOliver – described a great blue light when I was treating him for his marsh fever.”

Her pulse gave a little jump. “Yes, but Ollie was feverish. He was hallucinating.”

The shaggy white brows went up. “Yes. He was.”

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