Page 105 of Between Despair and Hope

“Right, Your Highness,” my Second replied. The face Elora made at the title caused a laugh to force its way past my lips.

“Get used to it, Princess,” I chided, standing up and pulling on my cloak.

“I’m not a princess yet. You said the council members—”

“Your—Rainier has no qualms with forcing council members to bend to his will on things that are important to him.”

And you are important to him, I said with my eyes.

“Ugh, fine.” She laid down on the sofa, stretching her legs out and tossing her book over her face. “How long can I stay?” she asked, voice muffled by the book.

“Dinner? Is that good? Thyra? Have her home by dinner?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Thyra,” I warned.

“I call you what you want when we are at estate, but here? No. It would be disrespectful,” she answered, never turning away from where she scanned the room with her eyes.

Rolling my own, I bent over and pressed a kiss to Elora’s forehead.

“You don’t have to kiss me every time you leave, you know.”

“Oh, but I disagree.”

Sneaking out the back door after exchanging goodbyes, I looked down either side of the alley and opened a rift. Doing a quick sweep of the street, ensuring no one heard the rift or saw me walk through it, I determined I was safe to proceed. Leaning against the corner building, I pulled my cloak tight and my hood low. I fumbled for gloves to keep my hands warm. Normally, I rifted elsewhere and rode alongside Dickey or Mairin. Dewalt and Thyra had each come with me once. Dewalt didn’t approve of it, knowing it would probably make Rain angry.

Come on, Dickey.

It was late-afternoon and the snow had started to pile up, but I’d wanted to check on a specific woman before her husband returned for the day. Dewalt had threatened to tell Rain what I was doing unless I promised to bring a chaperone with me, no matter how silly I thought it was. He’d determined Dickey was adequate company, so he was the one who came with me more often than not. But he was late. I’d told him I was spending the day with Elora and what time he was supposed to meet me, but after ten minutes of waiting, I took matters into my own hands.

Turning west onto the street, I walked past quite a few rundown row-houses in various stages of disrepair before I found the one I recognized. Blue paint chipped and peeled from a shutter which barely clung to the side of the building, and a crack ran through the bottom corner of the window. There were three steps up to the front door, but the bottom step was crumbling; I carefully skipped it, waiting patiently once I rapped on the door. Rubbing my arms beneath my cloak, I shivered as snow began to settle on my shoulders.

A child no older than six opened it and stared up at me in silence. They hadn’t been there the day before, and I wondered why.

“Hello, sweetheart. Is your mama home?”

The child nodded, opening the door wider. Desperately in need of a bath, their hair was matted, and I could see dirt on their face. All they wore was a long shirt to their knees. I stepped over the threshold, assuming Francine was in the single bedroom. The home was small, and she had told me another family stayed above them, using a stairwell in the back garden.

“Francine?” I called out, making my way through the house. Though the child looked filthy, the home was tidy, if in need of a wipe-down. Considering she only had use of the one arm, it surprised me she kept it as tidy as she did. I knew she was likely tired, considering I’d had to re-break her arm the day before. Francine knew I’d have to come back and finish healing her; the twist in her shoulder made mobility difficult. And I had planned on convincing her to leave the man who had done it to her.

I’d wanted to take it into my own hands and rid the world of the scum, but it would have meant exposing myself, which would mean I wouldn’t have been able to help anyone. The council had already deemed this activity too unsafe for a queen, and I’d done it anyway. I had to maintain my secrecy and anonymity. The way I worked necessitated trust, and it was clear Francine didn’t want to leave the man. She even denied he’d been the one to do it to her. I had to prove to her that I could be trusted, or this wouldn’t work.

Peeking my head into the back room, I saw her curled up in the bed, worn out from the day before I guessed. Burgundy hair spilled over her pillow, and the blanket was pulled up past her neck.

“Francine,” I whispered. “It’s time for our next session.”

Walking around the foot of the bed, I nudged her through the blanket and was immediately discomfited by the stiffness.

“Francine?”

Though I heard the heartbeats of the child and others, likely her upstairs neighbors, Francine’s own chest was silent. Hurrying my steps, I pulled her hair away from her face and nearly vomited at what I saw. Wide and unseeing eyes looked back at me. Her nose was broken, and purple fingerprints covered her neck. I screeched as I jumped away, turning to leave, to run, to find help. She was irreparably dead, and I needed to get the child out before the man who did this returned.

Stumbling over myself out of the back room, I couldn’t find the child anywhere. Running to check the garden, hoping they’d only wandered so far, I didn’t expect to get hit over the head so hard I blacked out instantly.

Chapter 32

Rainier

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