Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

“Yes, my lady, if it pleases you.” The boy glanced at Graydon, who also smiled at him reassuringly. It seemed to help him relax, although his dog remained stiff-legged and bristled warningly.

Bel and Graydon stepped inside. As Graydon quietly pulled the door shut and latched it, she said to the boy, “I’m looking for my son, and I wondered if you might have seen him. He would have traveled through this area sometime late yesterday. He’s actually my stepson, so he doesn’t quite look like me. He has pale blond hair.”

The boy shook his head. His nervousness had not decreased, but the more Bel talked, the more his fear clearly ebbed. “No, my lady. There ain’t been no Elves travel on this road for some time. I would’ve heard if there was. Meaning no offense, but we don’t see many of you often.”

“I see,” she murmured. Disappointment weighed on her shoulders, and her sharp, clear thinking from earlier in the flight clouded over.

Rubbing her forehead, she struggled to focus. She had no business feeling so disappointed. They had barely begun to search. This was simply the first place they had stopped to ask questions

Graydon flattened a large hand on her back, his touch silently bracing her.

He asked the boy, “When they do pass by, do people of the Elder Races stop at your inn? Perhaps you’ve heard of an estate nearby that’s owned by one?”

The boy straightened, his tired gaze growing more alert. “You’re talking about what used to be Stanton Manor,” he said. “That’s about a half mile on the other side of the mill, up the big hill. I hear they’re an odd sort up there.”

“How do you mean?” she asked quickly.

“Sometimes his lordship hires a whole houseful of staff for a week or two, only to send them home afterwards, and the house goes dark and silent for weeks or months on end. And sometimes, when nobody is supposed to be home, I heard that lights shine in the house.” The boy’s gaze had turned large and solemn. “Once the constable went up to check, and nobody was there. He said the dust in the place was an inch thick, and it weren’t disturbed none. He swears the house is haunted.”

“Fancy that, a haunted house.” Graydon cocked an eyebrow at her. He asked the boy, “If someone came from London, could they travel by another route to reach that house, or must they pass this spot?”

After mulling it over, the boy said, “They could take Old Ferryman’s Road. You wouldn’t have to go through town if you took that route. It goes directly past the mill.”

“Thank you,” Graydon told him. “You’ve been very helpful. I have one last question for you. Could you sneak into the kitchen for some bread and cheese? Perhaps there might be some cold chicken or a roast left over from supper. Anything would do, and it doesn’t have to be fancy.”

“Yes, sir,” said the boy. “I could wake the missus, and she could cook you a hot meal, if you want. She might grumble a bit, though.”

“There’s no need to wake your mistress,” Bel told him. “We came to the stables so we could avoid disrupting people unnecessarily.”

The boy bobbed his head. He promised, “I’ll be right back.”

Leaving the lantern, he slipped out, and the dog slunk past Graydon, close on his heels.

Bell scrubbed her face with both hands. “I feel uneasy about stopping. Ferion might have taken the other route and gone straight to the manor. He could be there right now.”

“That’s true,” Graydon said. “But you know, if he has arrived, he’s most likely asleep. He’s had a long day of travel, and it is after three in the morning.” He paused, studying her. “You’ve clearly begun to struggle, and I don’t like how pale you’ve become. When was the last time you’ve rested or eaten anything?”

She peered at him over the tips of her fingers, thinking back. “I suppose it must have been breakfast. I didn’t bother to eat any lunch, since I knew there would be so much food at the masque. Then I got preoccupied with other things.”

As she spoke, she realized this was the first time she had laid eyes on his human form since they had gone their separate ways, and she was struck by the change in his appearance.

No longer dressed in evening clothes, he wore sturdy clothes in huntsman’s colors. A long winter coat brushed the tops of his dark boots. He carried a hunting knife in the belt at his waist, and a sword strapped to his wide back.

The brown and green of his clothes highlighted the tawny, sun-kissed sheen of his hair and added depth to his dark gray eyes.