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Fin sat back in his chair and sighed. He was getting nowhere, and that was a situation that was not going to change unless he could develop another lead or get Marcus to talk. He did not want to have to go back to Westmarch Hall empty-handed, with the would-be assassin still on the loose. He did not want to have to return to Col and tell him he could not find the man who tried to murder his wife.
“So, what are we goin’ tae do?” Hollis asked.
“Not sure yet,” he replied. “Have a drink and hope for the best?”
Hollis chuckled. “I daenae if that’s goin’ tae help us,” he said. “I daenae fancy goin’ back tae Col without a man he can hang.”
“Yeah, I was havin’ the same thought.”
Fin ran a hand over his face and grumbled to himself. He was frustrated and angry that they had gotten nowhere in finding the would-be assassin. He felt as if they were still stuck at the beginning with no idea where to go.
“All right, I’m goin’ tae see if I can get anythin’ out of Marcus,” he said. “I’m goin’ tae put some more pressure on him and see if he cracks. If he doesnae, I may just kill ‘im.”
Hollis looked up, an expression of alarm on his face that made Fin erupt in laughter. Hollis’ expression turned sour, and he shook his head at Fin’s inappropriate jest.
“All right then,” Hollis said. “I’m goin’ tae thae kitchens t’find somethin’ tae eat. I’ll catch up with ye in the mornin’, eh?”
“Aye. We’ll talk in the mornin’.”
Hollis left the office, leaving Fin alone with his ale and his thoughts. Thoughts that increasingly turned to Ivy. Indeed, she seemed to have taken up a permanent residence in his head. Not that he minded. There were certainly worse things that could have been occupying his mind.
Fin drained the last of his mug and left it on the desk as he got to his feet. He tried to focus on something other than Ivy — like the reason he was in York, to begin with. Fin stalked the halls of the castle, wrestling with the problem. With the household staff bustling about, it was soon too stuffy and noisy for him inside, so he left the keep through a side door and stepped out into one of the many courtyard gardens.
The wispy clouds looked like red and orange slashes across the rapidly darkening sky as the day gave way to dusk. The light was already dimming, and thick, inky shadows began to slither out and reclaim the world. Fin stopped beside a flowering bush and breathed in deeply, savoring the heavy floral aroma of the courtyard garden. And as he stood there, he became aware of the sound of muffled voices.
Curious, he crept along the dirt path, winding around through the tall trees and bushes that filled the garden, the voices growing closer with every step. He paused when he caught sight of two figures up ahead. He sheltered behind a tall screen of bushes, peering through the thick foliage. The two men were huddled close together, talking low so their voices could not be heard.
To Fin, the whole scene looked suspicious. Something about the way they stood and the pitch of their voices made him believe they were up to something. The two men, cloaked in the encroaching shadows and partially hidden by the thick bushes of the garden, looked to be conspiring with one another. But from where he stood, he could not make out who it was, nor could he hear what they were saying.
He gritted his teeth, frustrated. Fin wanted to creep closer but knew he could not do it without giving himself away. Just when he was about to do it anyway, though, one of the men turned his way, seeming to be searching the oncoming darkness for anybody out there. And at that moment, there was enough light for Fin to see that it was none other than Castor, the Baron of Elix.
“What in the world is he doin’?” Fin whispered to himself.
Not knowing what was happening, but determined to find out, Fin took a step backward. His foot came down on a dry twig, and it snapped with a noise that in such a quiet, confined space, was as loud as a cannon shot. Fin sucked in a breath and held it, his eyes wide and focused on the pair of figures ahead. Castor and his mysterious counterpart both paused, and Fin saw their heads turn his way.
He stood as still as a statue, confident they could not see him through the screen of bushes and the growing gloom of dusk. But then the second man turned and fled, hidden behind the bushes, and lost to Fin’s sight. Castor stood where he was for a moment, hesitating, as if unsure where he should go.
Fin capitalized on his indecision and carefully turned, picking his way along the path. He moved quickly and quietly, making it back to the door he’d come through. Fin slipped inside and gently shut the door behind him before retreating to his office. He called for a chamberlain as he barged through the door. A moment later, a pair of young men in the Duke’s livery that he was familiar with appeared and quickly set about lighting a fire in the hearth, bringing him a fresh pitcher of ale and fresh cups.
“Thank ye, lads,” he said.
“Of course, M’Lord.”
“I’m nae a Lord,” he reminded them - again. “Fin is fine, lads.”
“Of course, M’Lord.”
Fin opened his mouth but closed it again and dropped down into the chair behind the desk. He accepted a mug of ale from one of the chamberlains and leaned back in his seat, mentally sorting through everything he had just seen.
“Can I have some supper sent into your office, M’Lord?”
Fin resisted the urge to argue, and just nodded instead.
“Aye. That’d be nice,” he said. “Thank ye, lads.”
They both gave him a courteous nod and quickly departed, closing the office door behind them softly. Fin stared into the flames in the hearth, his mind consumed by what he’d seen. It had been Castor, of that there was no doubt. But what was he doing out there? And who was the second man?
There could have been a perfectly reasonable, perfectly innocent explanation for it all. Fin knew that just because he thought their behavior looked suspicious, it didn’t mean that it actually was. He knew there could have been a thousand different things they were talking about, and reasons for them to be meeting in private.
But if it was innocent, why had the second man run off the way he did? Why did they just look so suspicious? Fin knew he was not the smartest man in the world, but he thought he was pretty good at reading people and knew human nature. And to him, they looked suspicious. Like they were conspiring.
It was then that Fin started to have some very disturbing and uncomfortable thoughts rattle through his mind. He sipped his ale and stared into the flames, hoping against all hope that he was wrong.
