She handed a knife to him for the joint of mutton that took up most of one platter. While James carved the meat, I broke off a portion of bread. “It’s possible they took a different route,” he said after a minute.
The idea disturbed me, as there had been some comfort to think that we at least followed the same road. “Perhaps,” I said, “but the end point will be the same. Deri is taking Nora to the oak grove in Wexford.” To free her mother, whom she claimed had been imprisoned by King Bres thousands of years ago.
“I hope you’re right, Miss Kilbrid.”
So do I, Mr. Roth.
We fell back into silence during the meal. The scent of food brought another fly to our table, and I used a napkin to shoo it from the mutton. It flew a wide circle around our heads, landing next on my forearm. I brushed it away once more when the little bugger lurched a hairpin turn and headed straight for me.
“Ouch!” I cried as it thwacked into my forehead.
The fly wavered, corrected course, and struck again. I swiped at it and felt a satisfying crack as my hand came into contact with the soft black body. Thinking that the end of it, frustration burst anew when a second later the creature hit my cheek.
“Blasted!” I cried as it circled again. “What is wrong with this place?”
James watched the continued onslaught, his mouth open and a piece of mutton suspended in midair. No doubt the man was startled, probably as much by the insect’s assault as by my flailing arms. After a near dozen strikes, he lowered the fork, though his eyes remained steadfast. Reaching for a napkin, he flipped the cloth just as the fly bounced from my other cheek. It crashed, backside up next to a wedge of cheese. Six legs flailed in the air as angry wings buzzed against the metal platter. James secured the nasty thing in the napkin and squished it.
Mortified, I dropped my gaze and tried to ignore the many stares from the other patrons.
Leaning closer, James spoke in a hushed voice. “Does this sort of thing happen to you often, Miss Kilbrid?”
I shook my head. “Never.”
Something was obviously wrong, even by my standards. And I had a sneaking suspicion that something was me, no matter how much I wished otherwise.
“Well, you are either the most unlucky person I’ve ever met, or something of a different nature has occurred today.” He tsked his tongue. “A dog, a cat, and a fly—”
My head snapped up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
His disapproval turned incredulous. “What would you have me do? Turn a blind eye to three different attacks?” He tossed the soiled napkin on the table. “Coincidence ended with the last one, Miss Kilbrid.”
“I would have you leave it be.” I set my face hard as stone.
A minute of silence passed. “So be it.” He pushed back from the table. “I will see if Sam has returned.”
Folks continued to stare in open interest. I buried my face in a sip of wine when another fly buzzed over my shoulder, bringing me to my feet.
“Why don’t you stay by the fire?” James pulled on his gloves and reached for his hat and greatcoat. “I’ll return shortly.”
“I’d prefer to go.” With the way my nerves were jumping, James would have to nail my skirts to the floor to keep me in the room a moment longer.
“But—”
I grabbed my cloak and gloves, and swept toward the door before James could offer further protest.
The cool air and shards of sunshine did wonders for my spirits. The dog was nowhere in sight, and if the innkeeper’s son had returned, we would be about our way before another deranged creature had the opportunity to attack me. Soon the events of the past half hour would be nothing more than a bad memory.
James entered the stables a step ahead of me where we found a large curly-haired man hunched beside my horse. A foreleg was clamped against his knee, and I saw the glint of metal from the small sharp knife he used to trim the afflicted hoof.
“Hello, Sam Turner,” James said. “It appears you’ve not lost any of your skills since I’ve been away.”
Sam glanced up at James, his face an amiable reflection of his father’s. “Good day, Mr. Roth. I wouldn’t have believed ye’d really returned if my dad hadn’t sworn the truth on Saint Thomas himself. I reckon every tongue in the village will be wagging with the news come supper.” Sam flashed James a boyish grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll have this shoe fixed in no time, and ye can make a clean escape.”
“Thank you, Sam. We’ve still a score more miles to ride before nightfall.”
Sam nodded. “Heard ye was in a hurry to be off. Something about Lord Fitzalan’s betrothed.” He looked at me for the first time. In a heartbeat, the grin turned to lead, and his hand stilled over the hoof.
My breath caught at the sudden change of expression—from sunshine to glacial. I turned to James, eyes pulled wide in an attempt to relay my surprise. Did you see that?