Page 11 of Disenchanted
I lowered my gaze to conceal my disgust that this poor farmer should be dragged off in chains over such a small offense. “I was not aware that your authority extended into the countryside, Commander. How did you even know such a transgression had taken place?”
“One of Farmer Grey’s neighbors rode into town to complain. When such a report is filed, I am obliged to take action.”
“No doubt this neighbor was well paid for informing on Grey.”
“That is our system.”
I compressed my lips together to avoid telling him the system stank. Whoever had informed upon Grey had better hope none of his neighbors found out or he might endure reprisals in the form of a midnight beating. Our king’s petty laws, high taxes and habit of rewarding informants was engendering a very ugly spirit in our kingdom, setting neighbor against neighbor.
“I congratulate you on apprehending a very desperate criminal,” I said. My tone of voice was so mild another man might have missed the sarcasm, but Crushington was no fool.
I tensed when he dismounted from his horse and wished I had kept my mouth shut. The commander was just as formidable out of the saddle as when mounted. Although he frowned at me, he did not seem angry as he said, “I deplore the necessity for having to arrest men like Grey for such smalloffenses, but the law is the law, Miss Upton and I am sworn to enforce it. I would much rather spend my energies pursuing more dangerous criminals. That is why I need to speak to you.”
“Oh, dear! Never say you have found me out already,” I quipped.
He subjected me to such a piercing stare, I recollected how imprudent it was to jest with this man. I hastened to add, “No doubt someone has informed you I have been insulting royal heralds again.”
Some of the tension in the commander’s face relaxed. His lips twitched upward. This might have been some sort of tic or what passed for Crushington’s smile. I was uncertain, but his voice sounded wry as he said, “Royal heralds are accustomed to being insulted. I believe it is part of their training. I am more concerned with some of the bad company you keep.”
“Bad company?” I forced a smile to my lips, but it was a nervous one. I feared where Crushington might be going with this. “I assure you, sir, I number no hardened criminals among my acquaintance.”
“No? Not even Malcolm Hawkridge?”
I tried not to flinch.
“Mr. Hawkridge is a respectable apothecary,” I insisted.
Crushington’s heavy brows rose upward. “I think we are both aware that is not strictly true, Miss Upton.”
“Indeed, it is. Mr. Hawkridge has been my friend for years and I swear to you that I know nothing of him being involved in anything illegal.”
This was true as far as it went. If I knew nothing of Mal’s dodgier activities, it was because I chose not to know. I was aware that he occasionally dealt with smugglers, buying things on the black market. Although he was not licensed to act as a mage, he often brewed up magical potions or enchanted objects,but since Mal’s spells invariably did not work, where was the harm in that?
Of late, I had suspected that Mal might be involved in something of a more serious and dangerous nature, but I preferred to remain in ignorance. Knowing what Mal was up to would only give me one more thing to worry about that I was helpless to remedy.
“I hope you are telling me the truth, Miss Upton,” the commander said. “I have had your friend Hawkridge under observation for some time and I know he is not the simple herbalist he pretends to be. Whatever crime he is involved in, I will catch him out eventually so you would be very wise to keep your distance.”
“Are you threatening me, sir?” I demanded.
“No, merely cautioning you. I should be grieved if I was ever obliged to arrest you, because— because I like you.”
“How nice,” I mumbled.
“No, I—” He startled me by seizing my hand in his massive grip. He continued gruffly, “I mean that Ireallylike you.”
Gazing up at him, I was horrified to see something akin to tenderness in those hard grey eyes. My jaw dropped open. When I was finally able to close it, I hardly knew what to reply to this astonishing declaration. I should make it plain that I was not interested in being really liked by him. But offending a man as powerful as the commander was not a prudent thing to do.
I finally managed to stammer, “Um, well, thank you. You are also extremely… ah… tolerable.”
An awkward silence descended in which the seconds seemed to stretch into hours. I tried to slip my hand free, but it would have been easier to wriggle out of a carpenter’s vise.
The commander cleared his throat. “I suppose like all the other Midtown ladies you are excited about the invitation from the palace and eager to attend the ball.”
“Oh, frap, no!” I blurted out, without thinking.
I thought he would be appalled by my swearing, but he merely regarded me gravely. “Your refusal to attend the ball could be misconstrued as a sign of disloyalty to the king.”
“Or a sign of my poverty,” I retorted. “I cannot afford the cost of the ticket and even if I could…” For once I managed to check my wayward tongue before I added that I thought Prince Florian was a complete moron and I would not want to marry him, even if he came gold-plated and bearing the gift of a million books. Well, perhaps that many books might induce me to— no! Not even then.
