Page 69 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

He shrugged. “By all accounts Ewan never raised any suspicions. He worked hard, obeyed his master without complaint, and never showed up late.”

“The blacksmith’s wife reported seeing him conversing with a shady fellow a few weeks before he attacked you,” Niamh added. “She couldn’t tell us what they spoke about, but mentioned that it was a heated conversation.”

I scoffed. “That’s what you found out?”

Maxence’s satisfied smirk faded. “You try getting these people to talk.”

“They’ve all heard what the King did to Ewan,” Niamh pointed out. “They’re terrified that one wrong look at the castle staff could get their own heads torn off.”

I groaned. “Mordric didn’t tear his head off, and what about what Ewan did to me?”

“What did I say about not killing the messenger?” Maxence asked.

“And if the messenger is useless?”

“Why don’t you trot along and investigate for yourself then?” Niamh challenged. “Instead of criticizing the ones doing your dirty work.”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything,” I snapped. She huffed. My eyes flitted down the narrow staircase, which thankfully remained empty. “And you know why.”

“Of course,” Maxence drawled. “His Majesty doesn’t want his shiny new plaything dirtying her hands with the common folk anymore.”

Maxence yelped as Niamh punched him in the shoulder. The scornful look she gave him reminded me of Adele. I clenched my teeth. Either she was on my side, or not. I didn’t need her defending me out of pity.

I kept my thoughts to myself.

Maxence batted away her hand. “Alright, I’m sorry. Seriously, though, what exactly is your plan here, Finn? The man is dead, and there’s no trace of the girls.”

I sighed, leaning against the cold stone wall. This information had gotten me nowhere. “I’m not sure exactly,” I said. “I just feel like there’s more to this story.” I glanced at Niamh. “Any idea who this shady fellow could have been?”

“Not a clue.”

I rubbed my temples. “Thanks for trying, I guess.”

“We’ll let you know if we hear anything else.” Maxence turned to head down the stairs, leaving me with far more questions than answers. Niamh lingered for a moment, biting her lip as if to keep words from tumbling out. I stared at her expectantly. I didn’t want her to leave, but pride had tied my tongue in knots. I wasn’t sure if I was angrier with her for scolding me about my magic all those weeks ago, or for being just as stubborn as me.

“I, er,” she began. “Oh, never mind.” She turned and scurried down the staircase after Maxence.

My eyes pricked as I watched her leave. I turned on one heel, stomping back toward my bedchamber.

The following evening, I traipsed up a winding path that led into the forest to the north of the palace, trailing after the prince. If I turned my head, I would be able to see the glass aviary tucked into the manicured gardens, and beyond it the stone towers of Valnar Castle. As spring neared, evening came later and later, and the sky was a dusty blue in the dwindling light. I panted slightly as I scrambled up the path behind Enhart, who showed no signs of slowing his pace. We maintained a comfortable silence, neither of us eager to speak of the incident in the courtyard yesterday evening.

“Where are we headed again?” I finally asked as the path came to an end.

“There.” He pointed to a large clearing just ahead of us.

I peeled off my overcoat, rolling up the sleeves of my chemise as sweat stung the skin of my chest. As I scanned the clearing for any sign of wyvern hatchlings or some other beast that the royal family might be breeding up here, I scraped back my hair, allowing the cool breeze to tickle the back of my neck.

The clearing, however, was empty. I imagined that in the summer it would be dotted with wildflowers—a tapestry of purple harebells and mountain pansies the color of the golden sun—but in late winter, it was barren. “Why did we have to hike all the way here, exactly?” I asked as I twisted my tresses into a thick braid.

“The path is too steep for horses,” explained the prince. “Also, we need to be outside of the wards to do this.”

“Wards?” I parroted.

He nodded. “The castle grounds are enchanted for the King’s protection. We can perform almost any kind of magic there, except phasing.”

I had never considered that there were enchantments laid upon the grounds, but I supposed it made sense. Especially if the King’s enemies could wield magic. “Why is the castle only warded against phasing?” I asked.

“I never said that it was only warded against phasing. Not to mention a palace devoid of magic would be no fun for our conniving courtiers.”