Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(68)

“Apollo—”

“You could have been hurt.”

Okay, I had to admit, it was sweet he was worried about me.

So I decided against throwing more attitude and whispered, “I wasn’t.”

“You could have been killed,” he bit out, his handsome face still suffused with rage.

I swallowed because after sitting room swordfights, it hit ridiculously late that that was what was causing his reaction.

“I wasn’t, baby,” I said gently.

He pierced me with a glower then went back to searching the man’s pockets, muttering grouchily to himself, “She seduces me with this word. She also thinks she can use it to get away with madness.”

It was then I decided quiet was in order so I gave him that.

He stopped searching the one dead body and was moving to the other when a knock came at the door.

He went there, unlocked it, yanked it open and I got one look at the maid outside, who got one look into the room and her face paled in a way I feared she’d pass out.

Luckily, Apollo started issuing orders so her eyes, and attention, shot to him.

“Send someone for the constable immediately. And send a man to the room with ropes. One of them is still alive and I want him bound. And find these men’s horses. If they have possessions, I want them in this room without delay.”

She visibly gulped, nodded and ran away.

I didn’t blame her.

Apollo slammed the door and moved to the other body. I kept my silence as he searched his pockets then ran his hands along the inside of his cloak.

I watched his body suddenly still and then he straightened to his feet, his head bent, his fingers engaged with unfolding a piece of paper.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Bloody code,” he bit out, sounding frustrated.

“Can I see it?” I queried and his gaze sliced to me.

“You can battle foes and decipher code?” he asked wryly.

I decided to let that slide and made a mental note that Apollo got grumpy after a swordfight.

“Can I just see it, honey?” I requested softly.

He gave me an annoyed look but he finally stormed to me, his cape wafting out behind him and we’ll just say, grumpy Apollo after a swordfight was still hot.

When he got to me, he didn’t hand me the note. He moved to my side and held it up so we could both look.

I stared down at the paper. It said:

C, E at K – Tr, Br, L, Le, C, Da, Z, Fe, Fah, Te

U, I at TL, V – Be, Gr, St

Yep. Code.

Crap.

I was handy with word puzzles, what with having a drug dealer husband, zero friends or family because my husband was a drug dealer and no one liked to hang with drug dealers (or their wives), no job because my drug dealer husband thought it reflected poorly on his ability to give me a good life through dealing drugs, so I had to find some way to spend my time and I wasn’t a fan of soap operas.

But this wasn’t like a crossword, hangman, find-a-word or any of the puzzles I was used to solving.

Still, I kept staring at it, screwing up my eyes and trying to make the letters speak to me.

I continued to do so when a knock came at the door, Apollo grunted, “Come!” and I heard the door open. Apollo then commanded, “This one. Tie him up. Has the constable been called?”

“Yes, sir, and we’re searching for the horses,” a man’s voice replied.

“Good,” Apollo muttered but he sounded distracted and I knew the note had his attention again.

But as all this went on, somehow, some of the letters seemed to make sense to me, but mostly because they couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I think…” I began but trailed off.

“What?” Apollo asked.

“I think…” I repeated but said no more.

“Madeleine, what?” Apollo clipped, impatient.

“I, well, could this mean…?” I lifted a hand to point at the note, the tip of my finger sliding under the bottom line. “Ulfr, Ilsa at Treeburn Lodge, Vasterhague. And then the three other groups of letters. I don’t know…” I looked at the men on the floor then up at Apollo. “Maybe initials of first or last names of our attackers?”

He held my eyes, his jaw hard, then his gaze went back to the note.

Mine did too and they did this with me muttering, “But the top line. I don’t—”

I stopped talking abruptly and it felt like a cold hand squeezed my heart when it jumped out at me.

I knew Apollo got it at the same time, because he barked, “Leave him! Saddle our horses, now!”

“Sir?” the employee who was tying up the now groaning man on the floor asked.

“Horses. Immediately,” Apollo commanded and when the man didn’t move, he roared, “Now!”

The man jumped up and ran from the room.

My heart was now tripping over itself as Apollo grabbed my hand and yanked me into the bedroom.

“But…I don’t have a saddle,” I stupidly told his back.

He bent to pick up his scabbard from where I dropped it on the floor and let me go to buckle it on, stating, “It’s in the back of the sleigh.”

Oh.

Well then.

Still.

I felt frustration build, all of it concentrating in my neck, making it tight because, seriously, this world was awesome but there were times when cellphones would come in handy.