MONTGOMERY PULLED A BLADE out of his boot. The footsteps were running now. Whatever it was, it tore through the jungle. I clawed at his arm. We had to get back inside the compound.
But Montgomery wouldn’t come. His eyes were the steely color of ice. He wanted to be there when the monster returned. He wanted to ram the knife into its murderous flesh.
The leaves trembled just beyond the line of trees. The muscles in his arm tensed, ready to strike. A figure came out of the woods, tearing at the leaves. I grabbed the blade from Montgomery. I had recognized Edward a second before Montgomery did, and that might have saved his life.
“Devil in hell,” Montgomery cursed. “You gave us a fright, Prince.”
Patches of blood streaked Edward’s shirt. Scratches formed lines over his face. He braced himself on his knees to catch his breath.
“Are you all right?” I asked, just as breathless. “Is something chasing you?” The jungle was silent, but silence could hide danger.
“I don’t know.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I heard noises. I ran. It might have been only my imagination.” His sleeve was torn. A gash ran down one arm. Blood seeped through his shirt where his shoulder met his neck. He touched the blood, wincing. “Damn thorns are big as my thumb.” He looked between me and Montgomery. “What are you doing outside the walls?”
He hadn’t been here. He didn’t know about Alice.
Montgomery slid the knife back into his boot. “I have work to do.” His voice was dead again. He wanted it to have been the monster, I realized, to exact his revenge. “I have a casket to make,” he muttered over his shoulder.
Edward’s face went slack. A question formed on his lips.
“For Alice,” I said hesitantly.
Edward collapsed against the wall, wiping a hand over his white face. “How? When?”
“While we were in the village. Something broke into the compound. It tore down the gate.”
“There are iron reinforcements.”
“Even so.” I took a deep breath. “Come inside. I’ll dress those cuts.” Between him and Montgomery, at least I was getting some use out of my medical knowledge.
We climbed through the splintered gate and passed the area outside the kitchen. They had moved Alice’s body, but the tiles were stained red. Edward was silent.
Most of the medical supplies were in the laboratory, but I knew there was a small kit in the servants’ bunkhouse. The quarters were spartan, simple, just as I’d imagined. Two beds for Balthazar and Puck and a floor pallet for Cymbeline, though he’d disappeared back to the village when the treatments stopped. The sheets were crisp and white. A woven ring hung above one of the beds, rich in red-and-gold threads, as if it was meant to capture nightmares before they could enter the sleeper’s mind.
I pulled open the desk drawers until I found a length of cloth and a pair of scissors.
“Sit down,” I said. “Take off your shirt.”
He pulled out the stool and obliged. His skin was pale except for his tanned arms and a sunburned ring around his neck. In addition to the cuts on his arm and neck, a dark-blue bruise covered his ribs.
“Thorns did this?” I said.
“Everything here’s dangerous. Even the damn plants.”
I poured iodine onto a clean rag. I should bandage Montgomery’s knuckles, too, I thought briefly. But he’d never sit still long enough. I dabbed the iodine on Edward’s cuts. The sting didn’t seem to affect him, but when my fingertips grazed his skin, his stomach muscles contracted sharply.
“You’re too good for him,” he said.
I dabbed the rag carefully around his cuts. I didn’t need to ask who he meant. “He’s a good man,” I said. “He’s smarter than he looks.” I tried to keep my fingers from shaking. So smart he made Alice, I thought, but I kept that to myself.
“A good man wouldn’t have brought you here.”
I turned away to measure lengths of cloth. It wasn’t a discussion I was willing to have. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could win.
“Your father wants us matched,” he stated. As if I needed reminding.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t talk about that.”
“We have to talk about it! We’ve all been dancing around it.…”
“Fine, then.” I balled the cloth in my fist. “Why don’t we talk about why you killed Antigonus, then? I must have missed when you and my father became so close that you decided it was all right to kill to defend him.”