Page 68 of The Beautiful Pretender

They seemed to be ignoring Endlein and walking on by, as Avelina plastered herself against the wall inside the room so they wouldn’t see her.

The men were soon gone, their footsteps growing fainter.

Where would Lord Thornbeck be at this time of day? “Please let him not be in the Great Hall.” She didn’t want to face all those people.

Endlein was staring at her.

“Don’t tell anyone about those men and what they said.” Avelina looked into her eyes to make sure she understood. Those men would kill her if they thought she might tell someone what they were plotting.

“Very well.” Endlein stared back at her with that vacant look.

Avelina turned and took two steps before pain shot from her ankle up her leg, reminding her to walk slower.

She limped, her heart still pounding, heading toward the stairs. Perhaps she should tell Magdalen so she was not the only one who knew of this treachery. The two of them could split up and find Lord Thornbeck faster.

She limp-hopped through the long, winding corridor, making her way from the west wing to Magdalen’s door and knocked. She waited. Then she pushed the door open and called softly, “Magdalen. Magdalen, are you here?”

No one answered, and there was no sound.

Avelina closed the door and hurried away as fast as she could, painfully making her way down the stairs, holding on to the railing and walking down sideways, leading with her good foot.

First she would try Lord Thornbeck’s library. If he was not there, she’d try the Great Hall, then the chapel. Then she’d risk asking someone for help. But if Geitbart was able to take over Thornbeck, they were all doomed. Avelina—and Lord Thornbeck—would be at Fronicka’s mercy. There would be nowhere to turn for help, like staring down into a deep ravine from a balcony with only a broken railing to hold on to.

22

REINHART PULLED HISchair away from his desk and sat staring out the window at the snow-covered forest. From this secluded alcove behind a curtain, he was all but hidden from the rest of the library, should anyone come in to look for him. He should be in the Great Hall, feasting with his guests, but he was not in a festive mood. Let them feast without him.

Because of the snow, all of his guests were staying at least one more night, in the hopes that the sun would burn away the clouds and melt the snow. But when should he send Avelina home? Should he wait until her ankle was better enough that she could walk on it? Or should he send her home tomorrow on a cart?

His chest still ached every time he thought about her. But when an arrow had struck a warrior, he did not wait to pull it out. He immediately took hold of it and yanked it out. Just so, it was not wise to keep her here. He should send her away as soon as possible. The longer he waited, the more painful it would be.

He would never do what his brother had done—ask for the love of a servant who was obligated to do as she was told. Never. But he had to admit, even though he was still very angry with her, Avelina could be a temptation to him.

He still wanted her.

And he was no closer to choosing a bride than he had ever been.

A shuffling sound came from near the door, then moved closer. A rat, perhaps. He would have to have the servants set some traps for it.

“Lord Thornbeck?” someone called softly.

This was the problem with having guests. One could never get any peace with so many people around.

Reinhart carefully pulled the curtain back a bit to see who was there.

“Lord Thornbeck? Are you in here?” It sounded like Avelina’s voice.

He pulled the curtain back some more. She was turning to leave, limping on her injured ankle.

He should just let her leave. She was nearly to the door.

“What do you want?”

She turned around. “Lord Thornbeck, forgive me, but I must speak with you.” She was still talking in a hushed tone. She limped toward him. When a bit of light fell across her face, he saw the urgency of her expression—or perhaps it was pain from her ankle that made her face so tense.

He stood. “What is so important that you would walk on your injured ankle?”

“I overheard . . . Are we alone?” She glanced around the room.