Page 4 of Bloodgrove

Perhaps this was a good opportunity to learn more about Bloodgrove.

“I boarded at the station before the last.”

As she spoke, Will studied the peculiar mixture of ordinary elderly lady and something harder to name, something threatening. Her eyes did not gleam with friendliness, but watched him like a predator.

“I thought the only stops were the Capitol and Bloodgrove.”

“He made an exception for me.” She smiled, but it did nothing to soften her face. “Our King is exceedingly well disposed toward my family.”

The sun sank lower, and its long rays struck one side of the car, soaking in the shades of red from the stained glass and flooding the dining room with shimmering light.

Will did not question her further. He knew the subtle game by which she attempted to impress him with the importance of her family.

“How did you hear of me? Are you familiar with my work?” he asked instead, slipping seamlessly back into the role of salesman for his own trade.

“Forgive an old lady’s curiosity. I learned your name from the conductor, but we are all wondering what brings you to Bloodgrove.” Lady Wilkinson leaned forward in her chair.

Before he could answer, the door to First Class slid open, and a tall man entered. Will recognized him immediately, even without the broad coat and hat. His walking stick struck the floor with every step until, in one fluid motion, he lifted it and caught it at the center. Only now did Will see the silver handle—a wolf’s head with its jaws stretched wide.

Slowly, his gaze traveled along the gentleman's arm, clad in a perfectly tailored, if unfashionable, suit, and upward to the sharp features of a man around Will’s own age.

His face was as angular and precise as his clothing: high cheekbones, hollow cheeks, a nose straight as a knife, and dark brows shadowing pale eyes. Now, in the light of the setting sun, they appeared almost red.

“Do not let Duchess Wilkinson interrogate you. She is an incurable gossip,” the stranger said in a velvety voice, tapping the wolf’s head against their table as he passed.

He did not pause, but continued to the farthest and final seat, where he sat down.

The shiver still lingered in Will when he turned back to his companion. He was irritated with himself for having overlooked the signet ring on the duchess’s hand.

He had no idea how many nobles Bloodgrove possessed, but establishing first contact within their circles would certainly prove useful. After all, these were the people who had money to spend on interior designers, and he could not afford to return empty-handed.

And there was probably some truth to her claim that her family was close to the king.

“Who is that?” he asked in a low voice, although he suspected the mysterious man could hear every word in the silence of the dining car.

The train had become unnervingly quiet as it glided through the countryside, the pounding of the locomotive reduced to a distant vibration.

“That is Mr. Eric Arcos, the Red Ambassador,” Duchess Wilkinson murmured.

She let the words hang in the air as though Will ought to know what they meant. After taking a sip of red wine that stained her lips, she read the blankness in his expression and sighed.

“The royal ambassador to the Capitol.”

Will’s eyebrows rose slowly, and he dared another glance over his shoulder.

What little he had managed to uncover about the secluded city-state was that it, too, was a monarchy, ruled by a king no one had seen in decades. But secrecy came easily when most residents of the Capitol believed Bloodgrove itself was nothing more than a legend.

“You have beautiful hair, Mr. Frank,” Duchess Wilkinson said as the waiter began serving their meals.

At the beginning of the journey, Will had been invited to choose from a menu, and he was not certain what he had expected when he stared down at his plate.

A bird lay before him with its wings spread wide, their pitch-black feathers hanging over the rim of the plate and revealing a plucked, roasted body. The beets inside its head shimmered purple in the light of the table lamp and the last echo of sunset.

The raven stared at him with its beak open and its eyes clouded as Will hesitantly reached for his silverware.

“You aren’t eating?” he asked, but the lady shook her head.

“I will eat once I am home.”