Page 112 of Charmless
“Yes, I did.”
I gaped at him. “But that is impossible. He can’t be the Great Mercato. That alarming old man with the wizard staff and the long white beard is?—”
“Merely an actor that Greenleaf hired to play the part.”
I pressed my hands to my brow, my head starting to reel again. How I wished I had more of Delphine’s Rueful Morning After potion because none of this made sense. The majordomo was the real Great Mercato, the builder of the infamous aura chamber? How could he have perpetrated such a deception for so many years with no one the wiser?
And yet my mind traveled back to my last meeting with Withypole at the Winking Goblin. During his drunken ramblings, the fairy had tried to tell me something about the king’s wizard.
“You must understand something about Mercato. He’s a fake.”
At the time, I had been more concerned with learning the history of the orb and the missing heir before Withypole passed out. Now I wish I had tried harder to get the fairy to focus, explain what he had meant about Mercato. Except it seemedrather obvious. Withypole must have been the only one in Arcady aware of the wizard’s identity.
Well, no, not the only one.
I lowered my hands, regarding Horatio with a troubled frown.
“How did you discover the truth about the majordomo? And how long have you known?”
Horatio sighed. “About six months after I took up my post in Midtown, Withypole told me that the majordomo was really Sidney Greenleaf, and I should not trust him. At that point, I did not know how much I could trust Withypole either. Then one night I heard a noise coming from the Aura Chamber.
“It was dusk so the room should have been closed and locked. When I crept in to investigate, I surprised the majordomo collecting the memory shards. No one was ever supposed to do that except for the king’s wizard. The majordomo tried to make some excuse. Resting his hand on my arm, he stared deep into my eyes. His gaze was strange.”
“Almost hypnotic,” I filled in, remembering how I had once experienced the same eerie sensation.
“If he was trying to mesmerize me, it didn’t work,” Horatio said. “When I accused him of being the real Mercato, he stopped denying it and admitted the truth.”
“Then what? You allowed him to continue his deception, keeping his secret from everyone?”
I didn’t mean to sound accusing. I had told Horatio so many lies, I had no right to feel disturbed that he had kept this secret. And yet I did, perhaps because I had always believed Horatio to be so honest, one of the traits I loved best about him.
Horatio sighed. “You have got to understand, Ella. I was new to my position as commander of the garrison, but I was already dismayed by the harshness of the laws I was expected to enforce. Greenleaf offered me a pact. If I kept his secret, we could worktogether to mitigate some of the king’s cruel excesses. It has not been easy, but we have often succeeded.”
“You were not able to save the Hanson and Bafton families from exile, even after the wizard promised they would be pardoned,” I reminded Horatio.
“That was not Greenleaf’s fault.” Horatio insisted. “He obtained the pardon, but then the king fell deathly ill. While Sidney fought to save his majesty’s life, Prince Florian gave the orders for Midtown families to be banished, even though he had no right to do so.”
I slumped back in my chair, hardly knowing what to think. “You call himSidney?Despite all this wizard’s deception, you trust him. Do you consider him to be your friend?”
“If not for Greenleaf, we would have all ended up locked in King’s Royal Prison. Instead, he sent us here.”
“Surrounded by guards.”
“Ones that Sidney knows and trusts. Only think, Ella. If Prince Florian was vengeful before, what he is going to be like when he recovers and remembers what happened last night?”
Horatio leaned forward and gathered my hands into his. “Sidney is our only hope of coming through all this unscathed.”
Horatio looked so earnest, I nodded in reluctant agreement, but I was troubled by the memory of what Withypole had said to me.
“No matter what happens, Ella, you must never, ever trust Sidney Greenleaf. Even if he pretends to be your friend.”
I had never had a chance to tell Horatio all that I had learned from Withypole Fugitate that afternoon in the Winking Goblin. But before I could do so, I heard a herald’s trumpet blare in the street below.
When I stiffened in alarm, Horatio gave my hands a reassuring squeeze.
“That is probably Sidney. He promised he would come here this morning to advise us what we should do next.”
Horatio rose from the ottoman and hurried to the window. I followed more slowly, still a little unsteady on my feet.
