Page 63 of Charmless
I shook my head numbly. My quiet father friends with someone as strutting and arrogant as the Great Mercato? The wizard who had abetted our tyrant king in his repression and cruelty? There had been a time I would have scoffed at such a suggestion, but I wondered if I had ever known my own father at all.
Could Mercato have been the third person in that late-night meeting with Hiram Hawkridge and my father? The man I had been unable to remember? My head throbbed painfully as I struggled to recall. I was dimly aware that Horatio was speaking, but I did not look up until he rapped his knuckles against the desk to regain my attention.
“The important point is that this morning Greenleaf inspected the treasury room again and realized that someone had switched the king’s orb and replaced it with a fake. The only one who could have possibly done that was you.”
“Yes, I already admitted that I did.”
“Why would you do such a thing, Ella? I would never have taken you for a thief.”
“I am not! That orb did not belong to the king. It—” I choked back my words before I declared that the orb had belonged to Mal’s grandfather. I had already made a huge mistake by admitting as much as I had. I did not want to make matters worse by betraying Mal.
I swallowed and continued, “That orb was not the king’s rightful property, and I wanted it back.”
“During the ball, when I caught you down in the forbidden hall near the treasure chamber, I suspected you were up to something. You claimed you were there looking for your sister and I believed you. What a lucky coincidence that must have been for you, her turning up drunk. Unless Amy faked her inebriation to distract me, and she was in on the plot with you.”
“No!” My heart leapt in panic at the idea of my little sister being arrested as well. “Of course, she wasn’t. You carried Amy back upstairs. You could tell how drunk she was.”
“Then you claim to have acted entirely alone in this burglary.”
“Yes!” I struggled to hide my fear behind a show of defiance.
Horatio’s gaze drilled into mine. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then what are you planning to do? Torture the truth out of me?”
“You must know I would never do a thing like that,” he replied impatiently.
“I never thought you would clap me in irons either.” The chain rattled as I held up my hands, displaying the manacles weighing down my wrists.
Horatio stared at them for a moment before swearing under his breath. He stood up and marched around the desk. Fitting a small key into the lock, he removed the manacles from my wrists. The heavy iron had already chafed my skin. I started to rub the sore spot, but Horatio seized hold of my hand. He lifted my hand to his lips and blew lightly against my wrist.
I would have found this behavior odd, but he had done this once before when I had been injured by Iggy Burt in Misty Bottoms seeking to rob me. I had barely known Horatio at that time and had been astonished when the gruff commander took my hand so gently and breathed against my skin. He had told me he had learned this trick of blowing the pain away from his mother. Surprisingly it worked.
“I am sorry,” he said. “It was not my intent to hurt you. I only wanted to scare some sense into you.”
“You certainly managed to do that.”
“I sincerely doubt it.” Horatio heaved a deep sigh. “Do you know Ella, I don’t mind so much that you keep trying to make a fool out of me.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Yes, I do mind quite a lot, but that is not important now. What matters isyou have gotten yourself into such deep trouble, I can’t help you. Especially if you persist in lying to me.”
I withdrew my hand from his grasp. “I am not lying. I?—”
“Don’t!” Horatio brought his fist down upon the desk with such force that I jumped. I watched him struggle to master his anger and frustration.
“Don’t, Ella,” he said in a quieter tone. “If you tell me the truth, there is still a chance that I can save you. The king knows nothing about the theft. Greenleaf told me he would be willing to overlook what you did, for the sake of your late father and because of the prince’s love for you. All you must do is return the orb to him.”
It was an incredibly generous offer, and I would have leapt at it except for two reasons. I did not trust the Great Mercato the length of his ridiculous beard. Hadn’t the wizard promised that he would see that the Hansons and the other Midtown citizens were pardoned? And now they were all being exiled. Mercato’s word meant nothing.
The second reason obviously was Mal. Recovering that orb had meant so much to him, he would not willingly surrender it. Neither would he allow my life and freedom to be put at risk. He would be bound to come up with some reckless plot to rescue me that would end up getting him killed.
What was I going to do? I felt like an eel caught in a sniggler’s trap, desperately trying to find a way to wriggle free. As Iconsidered my options, I was silent for so long that Horatio grew impatient.
“I don’t see why you are being so hesitant, Ella. Just give the orb back.”
“It is not as though I have the blasted thing with me,” I protested.
“Where is it then? Back at your house? Hidden in your bedchamber?”
