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“Well, hello there,” she beamed. “My name is Primrose.”
“Lady Primrose?!” Laurel’s hazel eyes widened with amazement.
“The one and only.” Primrose curtseyed and returned to the room.
“Was it a good idea to tell them your name?” Protego questioned, still sprawled out and shirtless on the bed.
“Uh…. Maybe not, but it’s too late now. Only fools try to change the past.” She picked his coat off the floor and threw it at him.
“Mom!” shouted the voice of Jules. “Lady Primrose is here! She’s really here!”
“Shit,” she muttered, glaring in Protego’s direction.
“That answers my question.” He placed his arms through the openings of his jacket and fluffed his collar. “Let’s get going.”
They rushed out of the room and down the stairs. Catching sight of the man who provided them the key the night before, Protego handed him the key alongside five silver coins.
“You’re overpaying us by a lot.”
“Give the extra coin to your girls to buy something pretty in the market; it was nice meeting you, Mr…” Primrose trailed off.
“Tobin. Alexander Tobin,” he replied. “This is my inn; thank you for staying…” Mr. Tobin smiled. “Lady Primrose.”
As they left the cozy inn, Primrose muttered aloud, “I will pay for this later if my parents find out.”
“Or worse. What about the merchant? And Mrs. Sharp!”
“Don’t remind me. Let’s head into town, we’ve got to find out about Alina’s parents.”
Primrose and Protego walked along the trail that led into the now quiet village. Villagers were in the streets cleaning up the leftover decorations from the festival held the day before. Garbage bins were filled with napkins and paper banners, and paint flakes dusted the gravel road. The air still smelled of meat and pastries.
They returned to the shop, greeting the shopkeeper with broad smiles. A man with strawberry blonde hair was bending over to pick up a heavy box of bagels.
“You two are back! Why hello, how can we help you today?” the shopkeeper asked with great enthusiasm.
“We were wondering if you could answer a few questions,” Protego replied in an ominous tone.
The strawberry-haired man walked toward the shopkeeper and stood behind her in a protective pose. “Are these two botherin’ you, Lisette?”
“No, no! They were super kind to our boy yesterday.” She smiled at them and then waved him off.
Primrose waved hello at the man. “It’s about a child. Her name is Alina, and she was found in the woods by my friend.”
Lisette’s smile remained but no longer reached her eyes as she stared back at Primrose.
“She appeared to be ill, but we haven’t been able to find anything wrong with her. She reeks of magic and can’t remember a thing. Maybe she was cursed? But there’s no way to be certain,” Protego explained.
“That thing is the curse,” the man said, walking back towards them.
“Hector, you must not speak of children like that.” Lisette looked at him, eyes weary.
“You’ve heard the stories. I don’t think whatever they found is a child,” the man replied.
Primrose’s eyebrows furrowed. “What stories?”
“People keep bein’ found dead in the woods. They go ’cause they hear a baby cryin’ or a woman screamin’, but they don’t return. Not unless an animal drags their body back to town.”
“Has anyone gone into the woods and returned alive?” Protego questioned.
