The Witch Hunter (The Witch Hunter #1)(11)

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Caleb says. “First the necromancer, now this.”

I crack open an eye to look at him. “Just having a bad day.”

“But it isn’t just today,” he says. “Lately you’ve seemed a little…”

“A little what?”

“Unhappy.”

I blink in surprise. I didn’t know he paid enough attention to me to notice.

“What makes you say that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You just don’t seem yourself. You’re so quiet. Normally, I can’t get you to shut up.” He smiles. “And you say I never come to see you, but it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten an invitation.”

“You used to not need one.”

“Yes. Well. We were kids then. I can’t exactly show up at your room without an invitation now, can I? I shouldn’t even be here now. What would people think?”

I know exactly what they’d think. My hand goes to my pocket again.

“Anyway, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You used to be able to tell me anything.”

I was able to tell him anything—once. But that was before he grew tall and I stayed short, he got handsome while I stayed cute, and he opened all the doors I wanted to keep shut.

“I’m fine, Caleb. I’m just tired. I’ll feel better in the morning.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“If you say so,” he finally says. “Can I at least help you to your room?”

I nod. He slips his arm around my shoulder and I lean into him, and for a second, it feels as if it’s just us. As if it’s always been. I think for a second that maybe I can tell him what’s happening with me, what’s happening to me. I’m trying out the words in my head, and I actually open my mouth to say them. But when I look up, I see he’s looking over my head and frowning.

I turn around just as he steps out of the shadows: one of King Malcolm’s guards, standing next to my door in his crisp black-and-red uniform, holding his pike.

Oh no, I think. Not now.

A flicker of surprise crosses Caleb’s face.

“Richard.” Caleb nods. “Are you looking for me?”

Richard clears his throat. “No. I’m here to, ah, you know.”

“No, I don’t.” Caleb’s surprise turns into a scowl. “Care to tell me?”

Richard glances at me but doesn’t reply.

“Elizabeth?” Caleb looks at me. “What is Richard doing here?”

I shake my head, too horrified to speak.

Caleb releases me and starts toward Richard. I slump against the wall, pressing my cheek against the cool stone. I hear his footsteps tap the floor as he moves down the hall.

“I’ll ask you again: What are you doing here?”

Again, Richard doesn’t reply. But I know Caleb won’t let it go until he does.

“Answer me!”

“Caleb, stop.” I peel myself off the wall. Start toward him. I don’t make it more than a few steps before everything starts spinning out of control again. I pitch forward wildly and tumble to the floor in a heap.

“Elizabeth!” Caleb rushes to my side.

“I’m fine,” I mutter. But I’m not. Every time I open my eyes, everything goes topsy-turvy. The air is dark and suffocating, and the walls feel as if they’re closing in on me.

“Let’s get you inside.” Caleb pulls me to my feet. We start toward my room again, but Richard steps forward to block us.

“She’s to come with me,” Richard says.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Caleb snaps. “And if you don’t get out of my way, I swear to you, you’ll be sorry.”

I wince, waiting for Richard to yell, maybe throw a punch. Instead, they both go quiet. Caleb releases me. I open my eyes to find him crouched beside me, clutching a bundle of herbs. I recognize them immediately: purple spiky pennyroyal, yellow flowering silphium. My hand goes immediately to my pocket but I already know it’ll be empty.

He gets to his feet. “Elizabeth, where did these come from?”

“Her pocket. They fell out of her pocket.” Richard’s eyes are wide. “I saw them.”

Caleb turns them over in his hand. Examines them closely. Frowns.

“This is pennyroyal,” he says. “And silphium. Women use these if they’re, you know”—I can hear the discomfort in his voice—“trying to prevent a baby. They’re witches’ herbs.” He looks up at me. “Why would you have these?”

It’s a long, silent, dreadful moment before he speaks, as he works out what he knows against what he wishes he didn’t.

“Baby,” he repeats, his face going pale. “And you… you’re going with him.” He jerks his head at Richard. “At midnight. To see the king.”

I shake my head. Look for a denial. An excuse. Anything. Only there isn’t one.

Caleb spins on his heel to face Richard.

“You didn’t see anything,” he says. “She was never here. She never had these. I’ve got money. I’ll pay you to keep quiet.…”

Caleb starts pulling coins out of his pocket. But Richard is already backing away, his thumb placed between his first two fingers: the old sign against witchcraft.