Page 77 of The Champion

She nodded in understanding. “I came here for the same reason.”

Kit stood up and offered her his chair. She smiled at the gesture as she took his vacated seat. He was ever a gentleman.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“Looking for the murderer.” He combed his fingers through his hair as if aware he had somehow mussed it.

“Have they any ideas?”

“Nay. I know they’ll not find the assassin. ‘Tis an evil force at work here. I can feel it.”

“You sound like Zenobia.”

“Someone call my name?”

They both looked at the door to see Zenobia entering. Kit quickly made his excuses and left.

Zenobia frowned at his hasty exit. “Why is it he runs every time I draw near?”

Rowena shrugged. “Kit is rather shy with most people.”

“Hmmm...” Zenobia frowned as she moved to sit in the chair across the desk from Rowena.

“So, how goes the search?”

Zenobia sighed wearily. “Much like Nassir, ‘tis ever frustrating. No one knows anything other than someone wearing a cloak, like Stryder’s, was seen leaving the tent. Again.”

Zenobia stood up and opened one of the drawers on Stryder’s desk. “Where is the note you found in Cyril’s tent?”

“The one in Arabic?”

Zenobia continued to open drawers. “Aye. Stryder had it last night while we were in here speaking of Cyril’s death.”

Both women searched the desk, but found nothing.

“Maybe one of the men took it?” Rowena asked in hope.

Zenobia’s frown deepened. “Perhaps. But I can’t imagine why. I saw Stryder place it in the desk myself just before we took our leave.”

A bad feeling went through Rowena as she remembered Stryder’s torn tunic. “Do you think the murderer might have taken it?”

Zenobia’s eyes mirrored the horror Rowena felt.

“Who is this person?” Rowena asked.

“I know not, but we had best find him soon. Otherwise, someone else will pay a price most foul for our inadequacy.”

Ganymede paused as he reread the note he’d stolen from Stryder’s tent.

“I am a fool,” he breathed as he studied the script. It was flowing and elegant.

A woman’s hand.

And all this time, he had assumed the Jackal, like him, would be a man. He should have known better. Just as he should have recognized her face earlier.

Though to be fair, their captors hadn’t brought them together often. Only at certain banquets and feasts where they were made to perform for the benefit of others...

His stomach tightened as rage gripped him anew. Somehow, he would repay his captors for their cruelty.