Strike at Midnight(43)

The weight on the kid’s shoulders looked immense, and the more I thought about all of this, the more it seemed like we weren’t going to get his brother back. Or at least it felt that way.

And wasn’t that a damn shame.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

No Rest for the Wicked





The Crickets’ lands had proven to be a waste of time. No one of Billy’s description had worked there, and all of their staff had been there long-term. Apparently, it was a family affair, because most of the staff had been related somehow, and they had made it very clear what they thought of outsiders working with them.

It had been the closest, though, so I had ventured there first. Now I was on my way to the lands of the Camemberts.

There was more of a distance between them than I’d realized, so Jessie and I made a stop on the way. She was a playful horse as she pranced around the small meadow we had discovered on our route, and I could see why Rem had called her “Majestic.”

With every movement, her head was poised in a regal position that defied the actions of a general nag who would pull a wagon. She had most likely been stolen along with her counterpart, but she seemed happy enough with her lot. She had listened to my instructions with ease and we seemed to have gotten off on the right foot. It was going to be a bastard if I had to give her up, but I would work that out later. If there was any way I could keep her as my own, I would do so. Maybe it was time I had a bit more responsibility.

Once we were back on track, it took us another hour to get to the Camemberts’ lands. When we got there, I wasn’t expecting guards at the gatehouse, but there they were, stepping out of their shadows for me to see them clearly as we cantered towards the gate.

“Can I help you, miss?” the taller one asked. He had a graying beard and a look that was supposed to intimidate me. It didn’t.

“I’m here on business to question some of the staff. May I pass through?”

He quirked an eyebrow at my expectation of just being let through the gates with such a weak excuse, but I held my own and dropped down off Jessie’s back.

“I’m a renegade hunter,” I said, unable to meet his height, but I could certainly match his attitude. “I’m on business for a Knight of the First Order. I suggest you let me enter.”

“Or what?” he sneered, and the younger guard with kind eyes stepped forward.

“Miss, I’m afraid no one is allowed through these gates without prior permission from Lord or Lady Camembert. It’s the rules, I’m afraid.”

“All right,” I said, not happy with the situation, but I understood why. At least someone knew how to be a people person. “But I’m on the lookout for a young man called Billy, about yay high.” I raised my hand about half a foot above my head. “He has sun-kissed skin and hair to about here,” I put my hand at the top of my shoulder this time, “and a scar on his hand that looks like an X.”

“That’s none of your business,” the older guy said, and I was ready to kick him in the balls. But then reason came to order and I tried a different tactic. “Did you not hear that I was on business for a Knight of the First Order? A knight who is an acquaintance of your Lord and Lady Camembert. If you need me to seek permission beforehand, then I will make sure it comes with trouble for you. Your choice.”

He didn’t look perturbed by my threat, but the younger one did.

“There was a staff member of your description, miss,” he said quickly, and he ignored the scowl the older guy was throwing his way. “But his name wasn’t Billy.”

“Then what was it?” I asked, hope flickering in my chest that we were actually onto something.

“Iain,” he said. “Iain Weatherby.”

“Is he still here?” I had to ask.

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “He left about two months ago.”

“How long did he work here?” I asked.

“About two weeks. Then after Lord Camembert’s accident, he didn’t turn up. We figured it’s because he didn’t want to get into trouble, as he had handled his horse that day.”

“Accident?” I said, my ears pricking up.

“He fell of his horse,” he confirmed.

So, Billy—or Iain—had handled the horses the day that Lord Camembert had an accident and fell off his horse. That put him straight in the firing line of suspicion.

“And were there signs of foul play?” I asked.

“That’s enough,” the older guard said, but thankfully the younger one liked to talk and ignored him for the second time.

“No, not at all. No one was pointing the finger, and Lord Camembert said that the horse had been startled by a small animal and it had thrown him off.”

This was just getting better and better.

“Was Lord Camembert different after the accident? In any way at all?” I asked as I tried to keep the rising excitement out of my voice. I was almost certain we had found another connection to all of this.

“Not really,” the young guard said. “But there were rumors that he was more, erm, affectionate with his wife after that. His near-death experience changed him.” His eyes flickered to the older guard. “Or so they say.”

“Did Lord Camembert come back of his own accord after the accident?” I asked.