Stepsister(95)

Felix ushered them into the workyard. Then quickly took Nero around the side of the shop to the stables at the back. After giving him a drink and putting him in an empty stall, he returned to the workyard and locked the gate. Moving quickly and quietly, he led the two girls through the workshop and up a narrow flight of stairs to his room. After he’d put his candle down on the small wooden table in the centre of it, he snatched his breeches from the footboard of his bed and awkwardly stepped into them.

“Sit down,” he said, motioning to the pair of rickety chairs on either side of the table. Ella did so, gratefully, but Isabelle couldn’t. She was too agitated; she paced instead.

“You’re bleeding,” Felix said, pointing at Ella’s bare foot.

A cut snaked across the top of it. He got her a rag and some water to wash it, then handed her a pair of battered boots.

“My old ones,” he said. “They’re too big for you, but they’re better than nothing.” He turned to Isabelle. “So what did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“Because you always got into trouble and Ella never did,” Felix said, taking an oil lamp down from a shelf.

As Ella, exhausted, closed her eyes for a few minutes, and Felix removed the glass chimney from the lamp, Isabelle told him what had happened. Anger hardened his expression as he listened.

“After we escaped from Volkmar, we made it up the path and rode through the Wildwood,” she said, finishing her tale. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t go back to the LeBenêts’. Cafard’s men may be waiting there for me. I’m sorry, Felix. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

“Don’t be,” Felix said. “I’m glad to help you and Ella. I just don’t know how.” As he spoke, he tipped his candle to the lamp’s wick.

“I don’t know what to do, either,” Isabelle said, sitting down across from Ella. She moved things aside—chisels, knives, wooden teeth—leaned her elbows on the table and rested her forehead in her hands. “We’ve got to get the maps I stole, and Ella, to the king’s encampment,” she said. “We have to prevent Volkmar from attacking Saint-Michel. But how? Soldiers will be out looking for us.”

“Volkmar’s men?” Felix asked.

“I don’t think so,” Isabelle said. “He won’t risk showing himself. Not yet. Not until he wipes out Cafard’s troops. It’s the grand duke we have to worry about. No one knows that he and Cafard are in league with Volkmar. No one but Ella and me. He may have ridden out of the Devil’s Hollow back to Cafard’s camp to send out search parties. If he finds Ella, she’s done for.”

Felix trimmed the lamp’s wick, now burning brightly, then replaced the chimney. As the light illuminated the large attic room, Ella gave a little cry. Not one of fright or horror, but wonder.

“What is it?” Isabelle asked, lifting her head.

And then she saw them.

Standing on the narrow shelves that lined the walls, on the mantel, on a dresser, in rows under the narrow bed, and jumbled into several crates and a large harvest basket, were carved wooden soldiers.

“My goodness, Felix. There must be hundreds of them,” Ella said, standing up to admire them.

“Just over two thousand,” said Felix.

Isabelle walked to a shelf and picked one up. He was a fusilier, complete with a torch. He looked war-weary and haggard, as if he knew he was going to die.

“These are beautiful,” said Ella.

Felix, who was now heating up a pot of cold coffee over some glowing coals in the small fireplace, shyly thanked her.

“You must’ve been working on them for years,” said Ella.

“Ever since I left the Maison Douleur.”

“You put a lot of emotion into them. I can see it,” Ella said. “Love, fear, triumph, sorrow, it’s all there.”

“It had to go somewhere,” Felix said, glancing at Isabelle.

Ella winced, as if his words had cut her. She abruptly rose from her chair, cupped her elbows, and walked to the window. The she whirled and walked back again, as if she was trying to get away from something.

“Ella? Are you all right?” Isabelle asked.

Ella started to reply, but her words were cut off by the sound of hooves clopping over the cobblestones. It carried up from the street and in through the open window. Felix, Isabelle, and Ella traded anxious glances.

“Soldiers,” Isabelle said tersely. “What if they’re going door to door?”

Felix risked a glance out the window. The tension in his face softened. He smiled. “Not soldiers, no,” he said. “But maybe saviors.”





One Hundred and Eleven


Isabelle was out of the door and down the stairs in no time.

She’d rushed to the window to see what Felix was talking about and had spotted Martin. He was pulling a wagonload of potatoes. Hugo was in the driver’s seat. Tavi was sitting next to him.

Isabelle ran in front of them, waving her arms. “Why are you in the village so early?” she asked. It wasn’t even dawn yet.

Tavi explained they had to go to the army camp first, deliver the potatoes, return to the farm, milk the cows, and then bring another load to the market.

“Colonel Cafard was so furious when you took off that Tantine made him a gift of the potatoes. To help the war effort. And to keep him from throwing us all in jail. My mother was up fuming about it half the night. Thanks a lot, Isabelle,” Hugo said.