Author: Ashley Townsend
Category: Nonfiction
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/ashley-townsend/page,34,105060-chasing_shadows.html
She never should have entertained thoughts of running away to Locksley Village, however brief the trip might have been. As much as she wanted to keep Will in her life, she knew that he could never come back to her world if this place really was based in the past, which was looking more like the truth each day. What if his presence was somehow tied to the future? She would never know whose lives she might be tampering with, all so she could have the best of both worlds without sacrificing anything.
Sending one final, searching glance over the dark forest, Sarah sighed. “Guess I have my answer,” she said aloud. But it was for the best, she reminded herself, pushing aside her disappointment. She still had a chance to make things right.
Ashamed of what she had been about to do, she stiffened her resolve and her spine, making the decision to leave behind any notion of running away with her tail between her legs. Feeling the gentle pull of her conscience, she turned and walked back toward the castle, hoping she wasn’t too late for supper.
****
“I’m sorry I delayed you,” Sarah apologized, trying to level her breathing as Damien closed his bedroom door. She had rushed upstairs, thrown her cloak and sack aside, and with the help of her new maid, changed into a gown that she’d hardly glanced at. She’d hastily run a comb through her tangled locks to smooth out the snarls the wind had whipped her hair into and then rushed to Damien’s room, hoping he hadn’t already left. He was just exiting his room as Sarah hurried down the hall.
Looking relieved to see her, he offered his arm to her, waiting for her to accept the proffered limb before escorting her down the stairs. “I must admit that I was a little concerned when I found your room empty,” he remarked. “I thought you might have gone down without me.”
Sarah curled her half-frozen toes inside her slippers, wanting desperately to soak her chilled limbs in a hot bath. But now that she was thinking clearly, she saw what a perfect opportunity tonight was—one she did not want to miss, though she almost had in her recklessness. She could warm up after supper, Sarah promised herself.
“I went to say goodbye to my friend,” she supplied, careful not to give away too much of Edith’s whereabouts. She didn’t want to get Terrance and the others in trouble after all they had done, though she was fairly certain that Damien would think it as noble as she. “I must have lost track of the time.”
“Is that why you’re so cold?” Damien rubbed his hand over her knuckles to warm them and brought them to his lips, breathing against her fingers. Whispers of air tickled her skin, and she swallowed as some warmth returned to her hands. And, embarrassingly, the rest of her.
Grinning, he commented, “Your color has returned.”
“It’s warm in here,” Sarah responded weakly, dropping her eyes when he placed her hand back on his arm, though he slid his palm over her fingers to keep them warm as they walked. It was thoughtful, but Sarah felt tense as he guided her through a high archway that opened into a wide, well-lit corridor.
Raising her eyes in interest, Sarah noticed that there were several open archways on either side of them that led into dark rooms. But she was far more interested in the padlocked doors that were scattered throughout the passage.
“Is that the only reason your cheeks are flushed?” Damien asked, feigning innocence even as that roguish grin slid across his lips.
“What’s behind those doors?” She wasn’t intentionally ignoring his question but was more than happy to redirect the conversation to her own curiosity.
“I can’t be sure, really,” he answered, easily going along with the topic change. “Unused rooms, perhaps?”
“That are chained?” she countered doubtfully.
They entered a darkened portion of the corridor where the torchlight was weak. Unable to see his expression, she felt Damien shrug. “I suppose this old place has its share of secrets, though sadly many mysteries remain unsolved.”
“Hmm,” Sarah muttered in displeasure. She was beginning to feel the same way. But tonight could be a turning point, she reminded herself. A spark of nervous energy shot through her middle.
They emerged into the torchlight once more, and she spotted a set of large double doors at the end of the hall manned by a guard on either side. Damien stopped before the armed guards dressed in ornamental clothing.
“Damien Lisandro and guest,” he said to the men.
Sarah wasn’t sure how she felt about being “and guest,” but it wasn’t like these men would recognize her name—Damien had to introduce himself, and he had attended supper several times already.
The guards nodded in unison.
“Are you ready?” She pulled her gaze away from the hulking doors and nodded at Damien mutely. Up until now, Cadius had only been a name to her, a murderous ghost that she had been hunting for weeks. And now she was a stranger about to meet the man who had been able to end his own brother’s life, and possibly more lives than that.
For a brief moment, she wondered if it was best to let sleeping giants lie. But the guards had already reached out to open the doors for them, and she forced herself to take a deep breath as Damien guided her into the lion’s den.
—
Sarah blinked against the light that flooded the enormous dining room. Torches were mounted all along the walls, and standing torches had been brought in to offer the three long, rectangular tables plenty of heat and light. Large wooden chandeliers hung above each table, and the three tiers of candles managed to banish any remaining shadows in the room.
Drawing her gaze across the large dining hall, Sarah tried to take it all in: The clacking of utensils against wooden plates and trays, the dull scraping of tankards being moved around the table, and hushed conversation filling the air with a jumble of sounds.
Only two of the tables were occupied, and sparsely at that—it didn’t seem as though there were too many guests staying at the castle, as of late—but the attendees present were clearly wealthy, judging by the men’s elegant vests and ridiculous puffery and the women’s incredible gowns and disdainful expressions. No one took any notice of Sarah or her companion as the guards closed the door quietly behind them.
“Shall we introduce you?” Damien asked near her ear.
She shot him a quizzical look. “To whom?”
“The royals, of course.” He nudged her into the room with a gentle hand at her back.
Sarah barely managed to restrain herself from running a hand through her hair. Was her dress suitable for such a formal supper? She doubted it, since she had selected it blindly from her wardrobe. She couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering self-consciously around the room, and she caught the curious and occasionally loathing gazes of a few ladies when they finally noticed her, and more specifically, her companion. Apparently, Spaniards were as hot a commodity here as they were back home, and she felt a spark of pride that she was the one on his arm tonight.
Tearing her eyes away from the contemptuous looks she was receiving, Sarah focused her attention at the end of the table, where she knew Damien was leading her. She searched the faces there anxiously, wondering if Cadius would stick out as the evil mastermind she envisioned. They stopped just to the side of the three chairs at the end of the table, and, heart hammering wildly, she followed Damien’s example as he quickly bowed, curtsying as gracefully as she could manage.
“Your grace,” he said to the ground. She hadn’t managed a good look at the prince and was tempted to sneak a peek at the young man they were bowing before. But her companion had yet to rise, and it was a little difficult to subtly get a good look at him from her submissive position. Her knees were beginning to shake nervously as the seconds ticked by, and she nearly let a sigh of relief escape when the prince told them both to rise.
“I was wondering when we might see you again, Lisandro,” he commented, lifting his goblet in greeting before bringing it to his lips for a long drink. The prince set it back on the table, his dark gray eyes turning on her as he rested his hands on the arms of his large, throne-
like chair.
Curling hair the same color as the dark wood table framed a young, angular face and straight nose, and he tucked one of the chin-length strands behind his ear, revealing chiseled cheekbones and freckles along the left side of a smooth face. Karen had once mentioned that he was somewhere in his early twenties, but his slight frame and boyish features made him look like a polished youth playing in his father’s clothes. But it was the frown lines between his brows that aged his smooth skin, and the eyes that considered her were a dull, stormy color. Sarah wondered if they had always been so dead or if his father’s recent passing had been the thing to sap the life from them.
Damien took her hand in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “This is Lady Sarah. She has been acting as my nurse for several days.” His voice had turned formal as he addressed the prince, but he smiled sincerely at her, and she felt her toes curl in pleasure at the admiration glittering in his espresso eyes. “But I fear she is grossly overqualified.”
“And how are you faring, Lisandro?” Sarah pulled her eyes from his hypnotic gaze and glanced down at the woman sitting on the prince’s left. Damien immediately took her hand and bowed over it.
“Forgive me, milady, for not acknowledging you sooner,” he amended, eyes suddenly bright with obvious fondness for the woman. “But I am quite well, I thank you.”
The woman, whom Sarah assumed was the queen, smiled and gently urged Damien to his feet. “I am glad of it. Now”—she turned her eyes on Sarah, and her lips softened—“you must introduce me to your lovely companion.”
Damien smiled encouragingly at her, and she took a step towards the queen, feeling completely out of her element. She managed to bend her quivering knees into a curtsy. “My lady,” she said softly, looking up into brown eyes that were the same oval-shape as the prince’s, though they contained more life and warmth than his.
The skin at the corners of Queen Meredith’s eyes crinkled when she gave her a close-lipped smile. “I heard of the way you came to this man’s rescue, child. It was quite remarkable.”
Sarah felt her cheeks heat and dipped her head. She tried to match the queen’s smooth speech. “Thank you. But I really didn’t do much.”
“You must sit with us.” She flicked a delicate hand, and magically the bodies on the bench seat slid down, making space for the two of them.
Sarah blinked and only moved when Damien took her hand and helped her onto the space closest to the queen’s chair. He slid in beside her and, seeming to sense her discomfort, sat close enough that his shoulder brushed hers, reminding her that he was there should she need his support. She shot him an appreciative look before turning her attention back to the petite woman on her right.
“Where are you from, child?” the queen asked. Her thick red-brown hair had been piled on her head in a series of intricate braids and curls, and it seemed an unconscious movement when she patted the underside of the arrangement, as if to ensure it was still perfectly intact.
“What makes you say I’m not from around here?” Sarah asked distractedly as her eyes scanned the faces around the table. She met a pair of gray eyes assessing her from the prince’s other side, and a chill shot down her spine. It was no wonder she had neglected to notice him before—mostly grayed-brown hair tied back from a thin, weathered face, narrow, stormy gray eyes, close-cropped salt and pepper beard over an angular jaw. He was almost like a ghost, and Sarah would have passed him up had it not been for the piercing eyes staring back at her, waiting for her reply. Every instinct told her this was Cadius, and her pulse kicked into overdrive.
“I am familiar with every lady and courtier in the province,” the queen was saying. Sarah swallowed hard and forced her gaze away from his icy scrutiny. The woman had lifted her goblet and was smiling sassily. “My powers of deduction are far more keen than some might believe.” She took a delicate drink, her movements slow and practiced.
Sarah tried to follow her example and lifted the fresh goblet a servant had placed before her, trying to buy herself time. She smelled the pungent scent of wine as she brought it close to her nose and grimaced. Feeling several pairs of eyes on her, she pursed her lips and barely tipped her glass with a shaky hand before placing it on the table. She licked her lips and tried not to cringe at the bitter taste.
Knowing that several ears were listening in, she forced a smile she hoped appeared sincere and answered vaguely, “No, I’m from a very small and uninteresting province quite a ways from here.”
“Well, I am sure that lord Lisandro was quite pleased you came when you did.” Queen Meredith smiled fondly at him, and Sarah could tell that she wasn’t the only one he had charmed.
A platter of roast chicken and potatoes was set before her, and Sarah looked up to thank the servant. She recognized her as one of the girls who had given her such dirty looks when she had become a “lady.” She quickly ducked her head, not wanting to give the girl further reason to hate her when she realized the former maid-turned-lady was already dining with the royal family.
But she needn’t worry; the girl kept her head bowed as she moved past her, only raising her eyes to set a platter in front of Damien, but he was distracted with watching Cadius—she was sure it was him now—with a suspicious gaze as the older man continued to stare at Sarah. The servant girl ducked her head again and moved quickly to a corner of the room, where she gazed submissively at the ground.
Sarah pretended she didn’t notice his unwavering stare as she took a small bite of her food. It looked delicious, but the taste was lost on her; she was too occupied with trying to think of something to say that might get Cadius to incriminate himself, aside from coming right out and accusing him of murder in front of a room of guests. All that came to mind to get the conversation turned in that direction was, “I was so sorry to hear about your husband.” She directed her condolences to the queen and hoped the man across from them overheard.
Queen Meredith smiled graciously, though it looked plastic, like she had perfected it before a mirror. “Yes, it is a great loss to his people.” Her words, like her smile, were clearly rehearsed, though all her practice couldn’t hide the tears she blinked back.
“My brother’s death shook the land, milady.” Cadius’ sudden words surprised her, and she turned to him almost against her will. He leaned forward, placing a weathered hand on the table. Sarah wanted to look away from his penetrating gray eyes, but it was as though the intensity of his unearthly stare demanded her attention, and all she could manage was to shift uneasily in her seat. “But this country will rise again, under the rule of another leader.”
A few of the men raised their glasses in salute to the prince. The queen smiled encouragingly at her son, who pulled his lifeless stare from the bottom of his empty goblet to give her a faint smile of acknowledgement. Sarah noted the way the queen’s face tightened with concern. The candlelight caught the silver streaks at her temples, making her look older than her forty-odd years. It looks like the prince isn’t the only one to be aged by the king’s death, Sarah thought sadly.
With all eyes on him, the prince sat a little straighter, looking more dignified than he had all evening. “I will do my utmost to rule with as much honor, fire, and compassion as my father before me,” he said for the benefit of the table’s occupants. A chorus of “Here, here” went up around the room, and people raised their goblets and tankards in respectful salute to the deceased king and the one who would take his place on the throne when the mourning period had passed.
Their side of the table lapsed into silence as they all enjoyed their meal, though Sarah’s gaze constantly wandered to the faces around her: Cadius was rolling his goblet between his frail hands, listening disinterestedly to the man next to him as he prattled on about the tumultuous security of a nearby province, though Sarah couldn’t catch most of the hushed conversation. And the prince had gone back to staring into his goblet, though he attempted to look more involved when his mother shot him a worried, pleading look. Family dysfunction at i
ts finest.
Sarah leaned in and whispered to Damien, “Is it always this lively?”
He grimaced. “Occasionally, I can engage the prince in talk of politics, but, yes, I’m afraid it is often this quiet.” He took her hand under the table and gave her one of those smiles that made her feel like the only person in the room. “But tonight is far more interesting.” His thumb traced idle circles over the scar on her hand, and she had to consciously close her mouth, which had slowly drifted open in surprise.
Clearing her throat, she forced her attention to the real reason she had come and turned to the queen, trying to ignore Damien’s finger as it stroked her skin. Almost under her breath, so as to not be overheard by those across the table, she said, “It was such a shock when I discovered the king had passed. Did it surprise you, as well?” She knew she was probing at a sensitive subject and didn’t want to offend the newly widowed woman, but she couldn’t think of another segue into a discussion of the king’s death. Her justifications didn’t make it seem any less insensitive, though.
The queen shook her head gently, a pained look crossing her practiced expression of serenity. “It was quite prolonged, I’m afraid. I only wish for my husband’s sake that it had been sudden.” Her face was a mask of queenly composure once more, but she had wrinkled her skirt severely as she knotted clumps of the fabric in her fists. Sarah felt a stirring of compassion for the woman. It would be exhausting to be such a public figure, having to act a certain way and hide her true feelings all of the time in the wake of her husband’s death. Had she been able to mourn privately?
Driven by sympathy, Sarah lightly touched the queen’s trembling hand, though she wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to touch royalty. The woman appeared surprised, but she didn’t look disturbed or upset, so Sarah gave her hand a gentle pat. “I’m so sorry.” It seemed the only thing she could say, but she meant it.