Author: Ashley Townsend
Category: Nonfiction
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/ashley-townsend/page,43,105060-chasing_shadows.html
“Not like I haven’t done enough of that already today,” she muttered under her breath. Her bored gaze wandered over the sparse desk, landing on the seal. She picked it up, rolling it absentmindedly between her palms as she stared at the wall. Her hands froze mid-roll, and she stared at the design, stained around the edges by repeated dips into the purple-dyed wax. There was something about the design, something terribly familiar. . . .
She sat stock-straight. Dropping the seal onto the table with a clatter, she ripped the drawers open until she found the letter Robert had given to her. She picked up the seal again with shaking fingers, holding it up to the envelope. They were identical!
Her mind worked frantically to piece it together. Had someone broken into her room to frame her? Or had the previous occupants sealed the letter before she came? She briefly toyed with the idea that maybe these seals weren’t as unique as she’d originally thought and wondered if there might be a match somewhere else in the castle.
Frowning, she realized that they weren’t a perfect match, but the design with the raised eagle and the stars behind looked so similar that she squinted to ensure they weren’t the same.
Rubbing her temple with the hand that still clutched the missive, Sarah knew she would get nowhere with her questions if she couldn’t find some real answers. The only person she could discuss things with was in a guarded cage, and before she could second-guess herself, she dropped the letter back into its hiding place for safekeeping and slammed the drawer closed. Leaving the seal behind on the desk, she jumped up and threw on a heavy dress to keep herself warm in the dungeons.
She bustled towards the stairs, eyes focused on her feet, fully intending to make it there and back before Will arrived, whenever that might be. At the bottom, she glanced cautiously over her shoulder and balked at the sight of Damien walking down the staircase with the man she had seen him with the other night, Timmons.
Of all the luck! she silently cursed.
Sarah froze for a solid breath before dashing across the landing and into the shadows of the long corridor under the staircase. Crouched at the lip of the entrance, she held her breath and listened to the sound of the men’s footfall overhead. They stopped at the base of the stairs, voices lowered.
“Of course I understood the urgency of it,” Damien was saying, his voice echoing off the unfurnished walls and carrying easily to her strained ears. “But I hardly had the opportunity, and now I’m forced to clean up this mess. . . .”
His voice faded. What were they talking about? Sarah leaned forward a fraction of an inch to hear the man’s murmured reply. “It’s been taken care of. No need to concern yourself, my lord.”
“I was not concerned,” Damien muttered under his breath, sounding perturbed. There was another exchange that was too low for her to hear and then they dispersed. Their footfalls faded until Sarah was sure the coast was clear. She suddenly became aware of how ridiculous she must look, huddled in the near darkness to avoid the handsomest lord in the castle.
She sighed.
“This looks cozy.”
Sarah started, swallowing a shriek as she lost her balance and tumbled onto her rear. Damien looked more than a little bemused at finding her like this, though the corners of his mouth tipped in humor. Offering her a hand, he tugged her to her feet. She was suddenly very grateful for the darkness that hid the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“I was coming to find you. Do you have a moment?” His sudden question took her by surprise, which turned to trepidation when she caught the nervous edge to his words.
“I was sort of on my way out,” she hedged slowly.
He seemed disappointed, but he nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. It’s simply that—” He faltered, rubbing his palms together nervously. Clearing his throat, he said, “I hope that last night—I was wondering if that was out of line?”
Sarah hoped the semi-darkness hid her cringe. She had been trying to avoid this. “It surprised me, is all,” she answered tactfully, praying he would leave it at that.
But he took a step closer, his eyes searching her face, unsure. His hand rose to her cheek, faltering an inch from her skin before he seemed to gain the courage to brush a tendril back. Oh, Lord, Sarah thought, chagrined. Not again.
“I think by now you must know how I feel about you,” Damien said softly. His words were hardly louder than a breath, but she heard them clearly in the tense silence surrounding them. He shifted, and his expression was lost to the shadows. His words were stilted, unrehearsed. That made it all the worse when he poured his heart out to her. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” he murmured, stroking her cheek.
“Damien—”
“No, please, don’t speak. I fear that if I can’t give voice to the feelings I spent all night pondering, then this pain in my chest may be my end.” Sarah closed her mouth obediently, though she wasn’t sure if it would be more merciful to stop him from speaking altogether.
His thumb sent a trail of fire along her jaw where it brushed her skin. She hated that she still responded to his touch and closed her eyes, trying to block it out. But his words, spoken with such tenderness, tore at her. “You are as pure and white as snow, my lady.”
Her eyes jerked open in bafflement.
Damien went on thoughtfully, “I didn’t realize it until the day we played that game in the snow. When we fell and you smiled down at me, there was a shower of powder falling down around us, behind you. I could see the resemblance clearly then: you make everything clean.”
His hand dropped from her cheek only to take her hands in his, holding tight when he felt her resist. “I’ve never been a fool to fall so quickly, but, my lady, I believe I am falling in love with you.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, his earnestness making this all the more difficult. Two professions of love in less than twenty-four hours should have thrilled her, but she only felt a sickening guilt in her middle.
Closing her eyes, Sarah shook her head, sure he could feel the frantic movement even if he wasn’t able to see it. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.
Damien’s voice was smooth and tender, like dark honey dripping off a warm spoon. She had no choice but to open her eyes, searching the dark for the expression she imagined from his soft voice. “But I do. I care deeply for this lady before me, who makes me want to be a better man.” He pulled her close, then, and she was too shell-shocked and guilt ridden to resist. Folding her in his arms, he buried his face in her neck.
Sarah felt a traitorous shiver race down her spine when he expelled a slow, shaky breath against her skin. She clenched her teeth, hoping he hadn’t felt the tremor. How could she capitulate so easily to his tenderness? Would he never cease to break down her defenses and confuse her thoughts?
Telling and then forcing her hands to move, she pressed gently against his chest. He didn’t fight her, but she could tell he was reluctant from the way his jaw trailed against hers as he slowly pulled back, his stubble rasping against her skin. His hands lingered on her hips for a moment longer than necessary, and then he sighed, dropping his hold.
“You know I care about you, Damien,” she began, grimacing at how cliché her words sounded, scripted right out of the “Let’s just be friends” handbook. She consciously steered clear of the “It’s not you, it’s me” part of the speech, not wanting to hurt him any more than she had to.
She heard him suck in a breath. “But not in that way,” Damien finished.
“No,” she answered regretfully, then flinched. Why did that feel like a partial falsehood? She knew she felt something for him and didn’t want to cause him hurt; she found herself wishing that she could give him the love he wanted in return. But her heart belonged to another, and it would be a lie to pretend any longer.
Reaching out, she gently brushed her fingertips against his arm. It was an unconscious attempt to console him, but she feared the light touch might have only hurt him more. Pulling her h
and back, she whispered, “I wish I could give you what you want.”
He was quiet for a long time, and Sarah was starting to feel awkward—more so than before—standing there in silence. Finally, he said in a voice stronger than she had been expecting and laced with determination, “I’m a patient man. When I wish to be,” he added, and she heard a grin in his voice.
She stifled a groan of frustration. Maybe she should have just come right out and said it, plain and simple. “It’s probably just a passing infatuation,” she reasoned. “You deserve a woman who can love you and stay in Serimone. I won’t be around much longer. Then where would we be? Even if I felt that way,” she was quick to add. “And I’m easy to get over.”
But Damien was already shaking his head. He took her hands again and gave them a promising squeeze. “You can’t know what I feel,” he admonished gently. She ducked her head, ashamed that she had unwittingly demeaned his affection. Damien hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it, and she was surprised at the fervent note his words carried. “But I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to win you and show you that my feelings are true, though the decision will be yours alone.”
Sarah sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No,” he answered firmly, a smile back in his voice. The man was persistent, she’d give him that. And he was also entirely vexing.
“You’ll just be wasting your time,” she insisted, trying to sway him, fearing what might occur if he continued to persist.
“We will see.” Damien’s answer was full of confidence.
Shaking her head at his certainty, she heaved another sigh. This conversation couldn’t have backfired more, and reasoning with him was going to get her nowhere. “I guess I’d better be going, then.”
“Yes. I have some pressing matters to discuss with the future king, as well.”
That triggered the memory of seeing Damien with that man on the stairs, and she hedged, “What were you and Timmons discussing earlier.”
“Oh, he was informing me that the physician is set to hang. He was moved to a cell situated in the tower at dawn to await the remainder of his sentence.” Damien had answered without inflection, as though he were discussing tedious business matters.
Sarah felt her blood go cold. How was she supposed to find him now? He was the last evidence against Cadius! “When?” she whispered, throat closing. “When is the execution?”
“Tomorrow at sunset.” He hadn’t noticed her internal plight.
Tomorrow! Could she and Will find, release the physician, and get him to testify against Cadius in a day? Her mind worked furiously to conjure up some sort of working plan, but she was too shaken to think properly. She tried to sound normal and managed to croak, “You must be glad for this.”
Damien grunted and rubbed his bicep absentmindedly, massaging his wound. It must have been bothering him, but she wasn’t sure she was in the state of mind to tend to it properly. “I don’t want a murderer loose on the streets,” he said after a pause, his voice thoughtful. “But I have never brought myself to take part in a hanging. It all seems so . . . undignified and final, like losing ones life to a pack of wild dogs. No man deserves such a dishonor.”
Relieved to hear him speak of the man who had attacked him with compassion rather than the animosity she would have understood, Sarah nodded in agreement. Fighting the nausea clawing at her throat, she whispered, “I really need to go. Please excuse me.”
He stepped back so she could pass. “Of course. But, Sarah.” She halted mid-stride, unable to ignore him when he called her name. He dipped his head so they were at eye-level, and she could only see the flecks of gold dancing in the darkness. “I meant what I said. You are worth waiting for.”
“I-I need some time to think,” she stammered. The outline of his head bobbed.
“I will be here when you get back.”
She hurried past him and back up the stairs, praying Will would come soon and afraid of what might happen if he didn’t.
****
Morning passed and then the noon meal with no sign of him. Sarah kept to the east halls to avoid running into Damien, wandering the empty corridors aimlessly as she gnawed on her nearly nonexistent thumbnail. Something was going down soon, she reasoned, if they were in such a hurry to silence Malcolm. But what?
She stopped dead in her tracks. Was the prince’s coronation coming up soon? Could that be it? Sarah hadn’t heard any talk of it, but Serimone couldn’t go on without a king forever. Was Cadius making a move for the throne and eliminating all loose ends? That made sense, but what would that mean for the prince and the queen? Sarah doubted they would give up the throne without a fight. Didn’t that mean they were just more obstacles in his way?
Voices carried to her, startling her from her thoughts. Two manservants were heading her way, engaged in quiet conversation. Sarah’s eyes instinctively flew to the nearest open doorway, and she quickly darted inside before either man spotted her, hiding behind the door. It was a bit excessive, but she was so used to sneaking around that she was starting to become jumpy and paranoid. And with a killer like Cadius on the loose, she had every right to be.
She sent a cursory glance over the room as the men passed by—the furnishings looked oddly familiar—then her gaze landed on the closed doorway near the hearth and she instantly knew where she was. Sarah moved across the room with light steps, listening at the door before cracking it just enough for her to squeeze through the opening.
The room looked exactly as it had the day the physician stabbed Damien, though the stained rug had been thoroughly cleaned. She acknowledged the fact that coming here was more than likely a dead end, but with Malcolm set to hang tomorrow and with no way to reach out to him, this was the best she could do. She hoped he had left something behind in the scuffle, some clue that could help both of them now.
Ensuring that both doors were closed, she found that the one leading to the hallway was locked from the outside, which worried her. Sarah got down on her hands and knees and started searching the carpet, under the sofa, rubbing her hands over the cushions—she even tipped an empty vase upside down at one point, all to no avail.
“What are you looking for?”
She spun toward the owner of the voice before its familiarity registered, clutching the oversized vase to her chest like it was a lifeline. Will was crouched on the windowsill, holding the drapes aside, the corner of his mouth tipping in amusement.
A bubble of relief escaped her lips in a breathy laugh. She set the delicate pot back on its perch and shot him a self-conscious grin. “I’m not exactly sure.” She watched as he stepped onto the long bench, his eyes on her. They both appeared a little awkward as she crossed the room to him, her steps hesitant. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hug him, give him a sweet peck on the lips, or if she should initiate a high-five.
Thankfully, Will made the decision for her. When she was close enough to touch, he reached out to brush her cheek with the back of his knuckles. His soft smile sent a thrill through her. “Afternoon,” he whispered.
All she could manage was a weak, “Uh-huh.” Blessedly, she didn’t have enough sense of mind to feel embarrassed at the moment.
His hand moved to the back of her neck, thumb brushing the skin under her ear. Sarah stood stock-still. “You know,” he murmured thoughtfully, smiling, “I missed you this morning.”
Her lips seemed to have a mind of their own as they tipped. “Did you, now?”
Closing his eyes, he chuckled, tugging her in for a hug. They stayed like that for a full minute, neither voicing their feelings, but both seemed to already sense what the other was thinking. His arms enveloped her, holding her gently against his solid chest. It made her feel small and safe and protected.
Sarah felt her smile grow as she tightened her hold on his waist. She could get used to this.
Will buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. “You smell nice.” She felt her heart race. “Like—” H
e pulled his head back abruptly, still holding her. “Do you smell that?”
When he shifted his gaze, Sarah tried to subtly sniff her hair. She knew she hadn’t had a shower in a while, but it wasn’t like she’d been running a marathon in Arizona. She took another whiff. Maybe it was more of a mood killer than she’d realized.
Will’s arms dropped from around her, and she immediately missed their warmth. He took a breath, eyes searching the room. “What on earth . . .” His voice drifted off. He bent down, running his thumb over the splintered corner of the bench. Then he slipped his fingers under the lip and hoisted the lid up. She heard his gasp, though his back was blocking her view of the chest.
“What is it?” She moved to look over his shoulder.
“No, Sarah—stay back!”
But he was too late. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, stifling the scream that pressed against her palms. Though his face was gray and he already reeked of decay, it only took half a heartbeat for her to recognize Gabriel Dunlivey’s face.
~Chapter 39~
Sarah wanted to stumble backward, to fall onto the sofa and release the scream clawing its way up her throat as she stared at his face, still contorted in the fear and rage he had felt at the moment of his death. But her throat had closed, and she appeared rooted to the floor, having no choice but to stare at Gabriel’s twisted and hallow features, his gaping mouth. Even after Will had closed the lid, hiding the man’s oversized body from view, she stared at the wood, picturing his gray face and sunken eyes staring back at her. She didn’t even realize that Will was holding her, moving her away from the chest.
“They just stuffed him in there,” she whispered, shaking her head frantically to dispel the horrific image. When that didn’t work, she buried her face in Will’s shirt, clutching the fabric with desperate fingers.
He stroked the back of her head, trying to soothe her. But his body was tense, and she knew the sight had upset him, as well. “He can’t hurt you.” His arms tightened when the tremors racked her body, and he buried his face in her hair. Sarah had a feeling that he was drawing comfort from her presence as much as she was seeking it in his, and it suddenly dawned on her why he was so upset.