Page 56 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
It was a very quick search to determine that the red bag was, in fact, gone.
Brownie turned back to Saryl, bending down on one knee to be at eye level with the page girl.
“Listen, Saryl.” Her voice was soft and her face calm. “This is not your fault. Things go walking at events like this all the time, and you did the right thing telling me right away. The duke should be proud to have such an honest page.”
In fact, this was exactly why Brownie kept her red bag to begin with.
A blush creeped into the distraught girl’s cheeks. She looked down at the ground. “But itismy fault. I was supposed to make sure you and Mister Moray were properly attended.”
“Mister Moray?” Brownie asked, hoping to distract the girl from the threatening tears.
Saryl nodded. “He’s the baker His Grace hired for today’s cake. Mister Moray is really nice.”
“How about this; I’ll stay here, and you can inform the housekeeper about what happened?” Brownie worried that if she left the girl to her own devices she’d actually go and tell the duke. The bard wanted Duke Wyldon to remember her as an excellent musician, not as the contract worker blaming his staff for losing a small bag.
“Alright, I’ll tell Madam Brillabelle. But it might take a while … she isverybusy.”
“I’m not going anywhere for quite some time, especially since I’m Commander General Rufus Triever’s ride, and his next appointment isn’t untiltomorrow. I’m just going to get changed into something more comfortable.” Brownie carefully hung her lyre harp in its case on the coat hook.
The page bowed again, sniffed once, and quietly excused herself.
Brownie changed into comfortable leggings and a long tunic, belt and pouch, and comfy shoes. She reapplied a bit of makeup around her eyes and some glitter on her cheeks, and was thinking about going out to visit Donna to make sure the mare hadn’t gotten into any more trouble when there was a knock at her door.
She opened it to find a very, very short human, his brown skin weathered, and his salt and pepper black hair tied back in a low ponytail. He looked up at her, and his eyebrow twitched. “Minstrel Bronwynn?”
“Yes?”
The man shoved a small silver platter with a domed cover toward her. Brownie took it, but just stood there holding it, confused. “I didn’t ask—”
“Saryl was in the kitchen earlier. Upset,” the man started. He scratched his cheek and looked uncomfortable. “She told me what happened, so I promised I’d bring you a treat. These are just some leftover pastries from the party, and I know they won’t replace your stolen bag, but I hope—”
It was Brownie’s turn to interrupt. “Oh! Are you Mister Moray? This really isn’t necessary, but I wouldn’t say no to a snack.”
“I am, and take it. There was plenty of extra for the staff to enjoy.” Mister Moray nodded. “I’m sure the duke will reimburse you for whatever was taken. There’s no excuse for something like that happening.”
“It’s really alright. It was just a bag,” she protested.
“Still …” He looked like he wanted to say more, but trailed off into silence. They stood there a moment longer until Mister Moray coughed. “Well, have a nice day, Minstrel Bronwynn.”
“Thank you.” With Mister Moray gone, Bronwynn sat down on her bed, lifting the cover off the silver plate. There were two markle berries stuffed with caramel, a roasted pistachio cream pudding, and a palm-size slab of crunchy peanut brittle.
“Wow.” The food tasted as good as it looked. Brownie made appreciative noises and savored each dessert slowly. Saryl wasabsolutelycorrect; Mister Moray wasreallynice.
She was basking in the afterglow—and a little sad that she’d finished everything—when another knock sounded at the door. This time, they didn’t wait for her to open it. She was barely off the bed and standing presentably by the time her room was full of knights.
Three knights to be precise, all in full armor. The first one to enter, an elf with darker hair and skin, asked, “Minstrel Bronwynn?”
“Yes?” Brownie raised her hands in the air. “If this is about the stolen bag, I’m serious! It’ll be alright. If you want to pay me for a replacement, that’s fine, but—”
“You are under investigation for the attempted poisoning of Duke Wyldon Holst,” the elf interrupted. “We are to escort you to the holding cell for questioning. Please come quietly.”
CHAPTER 31
Assassins Have Rights Too, You Know!
Rufus
Pjori leaned against the wall behind Lady Tate and stared at me with a hint of amusement mixed with shock.
