Chapter 7
“Yer naught takin’ dis harse.” The man’s rural form of speech reminded Lia of her grandfather.
The lighthouse keeper—the man who was speaking—stood guard in the entryway of his tiny stable, holding a lantern aloft.
The warm glow of light illuminated the lines of his stubbled jaw.
He held a tall walking stick in his opposite hand, that Lia was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to use if they tried to pass.
“Please,” Tyrell begged. “We must catch up to Captain Julian.”
“And the princess,” Lia added.
“Gun dey is,” the keeper growled. “Yon’t be catchin’ im on a ded harse.”
Somehow Tyrell became paler. “Copper is dead? Lane is going to kill me!”
“‘ell be, if ye tike ‘im nigh. A right state ‘es in,” the keeper insisted. “Te ar be flooded through, it is. Drown just by breathin’, that harse.”
Tyrell looked at Lia, his eyes begging her to translate for him. Instead, Lia tried a different approach.
“Please, if Copper is too sick,” she begged. “Perhaps you can lend us your horse. We’ve just got to catch up to them.”
The keeper released a coughing, wheezing laugh.
“Doi look like im rollin’ in gold, girl? Naught ‘ave I but an old moke an ‘alf ded ‘e be.”
“A what?” Tyrell asked, looking at Lia.
“He says all he has is an elderly donkey,” she explained. “We’re just going to have to go on foot.”
“We’ll never catch them in time,” Tyrell breathed.
“Let’s not waste anymore then,” Lia answered. She clutched her cloak at the throat, trying to keep the hood up. It was a futile venture, she was already completely soaked through.
“Come ye in and wait out thee storm,” the lighthouse keeper suggested.
Lia looked at the apparition of a man—he looked like the ghost of a drowned sailor beneath his billowing cloak. One eye glowed out from beneath the folds of fabric at them, glinting in the lantern light.
Perhaps waiting out the storm was the wisest thing they could do. Still, something about the lighthouse keeper gave her the feeling that if they entered his house he would curse their families for at least three generations.
“Thank you but we must make haste!” Lia added.
“Yes, you’re very kind,” Tyrell added. “But we really must go.”
With that they both raced away into the rain.
The old keeper started after them for a long time.
“The fever,” he growled, slowly shaking his head. “It’ll take em, t’will.”
And indeed it might have, if they had been forced to walk in the rain all night. Thankfully, after a frigid and miserable trudge. Lia noticed a light approaching them.
“A carriage,” Tyrell breathed, his eyes widening with hope.
The carriage might have contained horrors worse than the lighthouse keeper himself, but by that time, the traveling pair were too cold and exhausted to care. At once they charged toward it, calling and waving their arms.
When it finally came to a stop, the side door opened before the driver could dismount.
Lane popped his head out and unleashed an avalanche of swearing in Tyrell’s direction that ended in “Get in here now!”
Tyrell hesitated in a way that made Lia wonder if he was considering taking his chances in the storm. Still, she was not about to wait on his account.
Lane handed her a warm blanket as she settled in her seat. Tyrell climbed in beside her shortly thereafter.
“Captain Julian says you gave my horse pneumonia,” Lane scowled. “And apparently, Tavia’s hand maid too!”
“Your horse is fine,” Tyrell replied. “The lighthouse keeper is taking care of him, and,”
He motioned toward Lia. “She has a name. It’s Lia.”
If Lia wasn’t so worried about Tavia, she might have found Tyrell’s defense amusing. Afterall, he thought her name was Leah only a few hours ago. Well, at least he tried.
“The captain told you that, my lord?” Lia said to Lane. “Did he make it back to the castle with the princess?”
“Yes, and then they sent me to rescue you two,” Lane explained, before looking back at Tyrell. “So tell me, did you and bluey have a fight or what?”
Tyrell closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. “Just get us back, Lane.” he grumbled.
“Ah,” Lane grinned. “So the fight is ongoing. Very good!”