Chapter 19
Becky
“He was a man, and then he was a frog.” Becky repeated the words again, aloud, for she still could not believe them.
“I know, lovely Rebecka,” Blade told her, large arm around her shoulder, holding her protectively as they ambled up the stairs toward the offices. He took the opportunity to caress gentle fingers over her skin.
“You’re eager, aren’t you?” she observed, embarrassed that she sounded breathless.
“To hold you? Of course.” He looked at her with bemusement, like her observation was as obvious as stating the sun was hot.
Her cheeks burned, and a smile pulled tight on her lips until it slipped free. Blade, for his part, looked at her like she’d given him a gift he had not been prepared to accept.
“That. That is a priceless thing, isn’t it?” Blade’s amber eyes softened, darkening slightly when his gaze found her lips. He only snapped from his reverie when Rebecka cleared her throat, immediately regretting it when the moment ended.
But it needed to.
“Do you think Tatianna and Clare found him yet?”
“He’s in frog form,” Blade said, picking up a candleholder to light the eerily empty space.
“It could take all night to find him. Perhaps we should wait to tell the boss… Clare seemed to think it was the best course, and what are we going to say? ‘Guess what, sir, we found Kingsley! Except he was human! But now he’s not— What’s that, sir? ’”
Blade paused for an exaggerated moment.
“‘Is he still human, Gushiken?’” Blade mimicked the boss’s voice so closely that Becky bit her tongue to repress a surge of laughter threatening to break free.
“‘Why no, sir. What a wild assumption. He’s now a frog and lost.’” The final word was punctuated by a wave of Blade’s hand.
“Again. He’s lost again. Yikes—we do not have a good froggy tracking record, Rebecka.
Why don’t we allow Clare to take it from here? ”
“Clare is not where our loyalties lie, I must remind you,” Rebecka murmured, peering around for any signs of life. “And when the boss inevitably finds out, we would be the first people he’d point fingers at for keeping it from him.”
Blade started to argue, but when he opened the boss’s office door, a large mass slammed into him so hard that he went airborne, then fell in a crumpled heap to the ground.
Rebecka gasped, reaching for him, but she only had a moment to react before rough hands shoved her up against the wall.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Rebecka Fortis.
” A large arm was shoved against her throat, and she was confronted with a face she’d seen for the first time years ago—when her family’s magic chose her to inherit.
“Hello, Walter,” Rebecka managed to grind out with as much derision as she could muster for someone from her old life. “Would you care for a bit of mint leaf? Your breath is foul.”
She gasped in relief when the pressure at her throat fell away, rubbing at the spot. Then she realized that Blade had lifted the man—Lord Walter Loring—up by the lapels and was currently shaking him.
“Walter.” Blade grinned frighteningly. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”
Walter twisted and groaned beneath Blade’s hands, clearly outmatched by the much younger man. “No, you rutting bastard,” he spat.
“Well, I do!” Blade said pleasantly. “So why don’t I kill you and you can let me know which of us is right. Unless you have any objections?” Blade asked her, looking very hopeful that she wouldn’t. “This isn’t a family relation, is it?”
“Gods, is that Lord Walter?” Roland, her older brother, chose that moment to approach, shoving his glasses farther up his nose.
“Indeed,” Rebecka said airily, “but we have him under control.” She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “Where have you been?” Roland was not made for deception. But she would not put anything past someone who still resided with their manipulative mother.
“I was trying to be of assistance with Marvin’s poison. I have the rash burns from the heat plant to prove it.” Roland held up his hands, displaying the angry red lines across his palms. “In case you were unsure.”
“I’m merely being cautious.” Rebecka shot him the look she gave all her brothers. The one that said, Don’t begin a battle with me if you do not wish to go to war.
“Of course.” Roland folded his hands nervously. “Listen, Bex, I know this is a tall order when it comes to trust. But Marvin’s poison would be far easier to treat at Fortis Fortress. Our options for magical herbs and plants are far more expansive.”
Rebecka felt her hackles rise, but Roland had never been a good liar. If he truly believed he could undo the poison in Marv’s system, then…she’d have to let him.
And hope she didn’t regret it. “I’ll run it past the boss, but I agree with you—unfortunately. Still, you must take two Malevolent Guards with you to report on your progress.”
Roland looked pleased at the faith she’d just entrusted him with, so pleased that she believed he would’ve agreed to a hundred Malevolent. “I will not let you down.”
“No. You won’t.” She smiled at her brother, and his eyes flashed behind her to the man currently struggling underneath Blade’s bulk.
“So, what’s Old Man Walter doing here?” Roland contemplated the man with more curiosity than horror. A side effect of Massacre Manor.
“He’s been imprisoned below for nearly a year,” Becky started. “After he attempted to murder me on my walk to work last autumn.”
Blade’s head snapped down to the man below him, and the friendly demeanor he always sported vanished completely. “Did he now?”
“Blade, stop shoving his nose into the floors; they were just refinished.” She rubbed at her temples. “And yes, he did. I suspect it was petty bitterness from when I refused his proposal.”
“Of marriage? This man proposed marriage to you?” Blade asked, face twisted in disgust. “Venture yourself a wizard, Lord Walter?”
“You brat! I am of noble blood, a member of the king’s private council! She’d be lucky to have a man of my caliber!”
Rebecka narrowed her gaze and pulled a knife from her skirts, tipping it under his chin. “Since. When. Are you. A member of the king’s council.” When the wretch began to shake, her anger coiled within her, winding up all the emotions she’d been giving free rein.
“Just before I came to kill you,” Walter whined, crying out when Rebecka pressed the knife close enough to draw blood. “Be-Benedict offered me a place with his advisors if I got myself captured. He was meant to get me out after I found the—” He stopped talking, shutting his lips tight.
“Found what?” Rebecka demanded, inches away from shoving the knife home.
Walter flinched, whimpering, but did not break, fear of something more than death in his stare. “Just…after,” he whispered.
Rebecka raised the knife high, watching in satisfaction as Walter covered his face, crying out pleas for his miserable life.
But Rebecka Erring was quite fond of her moral high ground, and she’d hold on to it as long as she was able.
The knife clattered to the ground when she tossed it, and when Walter opened his eyes, she rolled hers.
“Roland, put him in the cartography closet until we can secure the dungeons. I believe The Villain would enjoy another round of questioning.”
Blade leaned down with bewilderment and whispered, “Which villain?” Her elbow met his chest.
Roland shoved Walter up, dragging him down the hall to where she’d pointed. Clutching the knob, he opened the door.
Someone gasped, and then a twinkling sound sprinkled like dust over the two men standing there.
When the sparkling mist cleared, only Roland remained, looking befuddled at what lay beyond the cartography closet doors. “Rebecka. I believe you have an enchantress in your closet.”
With a hammering heart, Rebecka sprinted over, Blade following close behind. And skidded to a halt when they spotted the panicked young woman.
Winnifred Erodina, the daughter of Kingsley’s magical curse “jailer,” was sitting on the ground, her borrowed dress spread around her, mousy brown locks brighter, drifting up around her as if blown by some invisible wind.
Appearing fairly calm, all things considered, seeing as she’d just changed Lord Walter… into a snail.