Page 19 of Charlotte's Story
“Why?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Because I’ve re-learned something we have in common.” His smile widened. “I also enjoy walking in the snow. There’s something magical about the way it muffles the world, like walking inside a secret. I’ve always loved that too.”
He said re-learned, but that wasn’t something I’d ever known about William. It was like getting to know a stranger—a new name for a changed man. But was he truly different, or had I simply not taken the time to truly get to know him before our marriage?
He slipped a small notebook from his pocket and scribbled a few words before putting it away again. I’d noticed him doing that a few times—quietly, quickly, like he didn’t want anyone to ask. If I hadn’t seen him jot things down before the wedding too, I might’ve thought he was keeping notes on the case.
“You really can’t think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?” I asked.
His forehead wrinkled as he thought. “Nothing comes to mind about anything recent.”
It was hard to tell how much of that was because of him forgetting everything since the Autumn Festival and how much was him seeming unaware when he offended people.
I chewed on my lip. “So you also won’t know if anything unusual happened lately.”
“If we’re talking about unusual things, I believe our matrimony should be mentioned. Statistically, marriage was not a likely outcome for me. But objectively speaking, I did quite well. You’re very competent and… pleasant to look at.”
My cheeks heated, and I dropped my gaze to the sidewalk.
We walked in silence until we reached the Christmas Market. We passed a stand of floating wreaths that sang carols in low, whispery hums. A vendor stirred a glowing cauldron with a long peppermint stick, and the scent of mulled cider and gingerbread fae-cakes drifted toward us on the chilly air. The Christmas lights woven through the trees and the crowds reminded me of going out to see the illuminations in Japan with my family when I was a child.
A sprite flitted in front of her stand, creating frost-painted portraits for people. Actually, it wasn’t just any sprite. It was Pennyfern, her green wings sparkling in the afternoon light. Lenora stood next to her, enticing people to her booth by displaying a stunning portrait.
Behind them, Merrick wrote a notice on a board about Lady Catherine’s Christmas ornament drive. As a high-born fae, she easily had the means for the murder, and since she was the one who asked William to postpone our honeymoon and come see her, she also had the opportunity. The only part I wasn’t sure about was her motive, but how could I bring that up with William considering how much he respected her?
A glance at William proved he was also studying the sign. No doubt he was thinking about Lady Catherine too, but not for the same reason I was.
“I wonder why you survived that night and Dahlia didn’t,” I said.
“I’m not certain, but based on the condition of my necklace, I believe it absorbed most of the spell’s force.”
“Your necklace?”
“I have a charmed necklace that was blessed under the solstice moon that I always wear, but the metal was bent almost in half. I think it absorbed the brunt of a spell, and that could be why it didn’t kill me like it did Dahlia.”
My hand fell to the necklace around my neck, and William’s gaze flitted to it. His eyes widened and he cocked his head to the side. “Did I give you that?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I probably put a similar spell on yours—a protection spell.”
“Oh. Thank you.” My hand tightened around the quill while my heart fluttered. “I wonder if you tried to cast a spell to save you and Dahlia, but your magic wasn’t strong enough to cover both of you, so she still died.” That would at least explain why there were traces of his magic on her.
He sighed. “I hope so. That’s better than thinking I did nothing.”
“Either way, it isn’t your fault that she’s dead. You know that, right?”
“Right.” But he fell silent for the next few minutes.
“You know, I didn’t think about this before, but what was Dahlia doing outside your house?” If she wasn’t attacking William, why washermagic on him?
“Our house,” he corrected again absently. “I don’t know, but I’ll try to recover the relevant memories as soon as I can.”
“I don’t think that’s something someone can control.” Unless… maybe there was some sort of magic that could help with it. I would have to ask Lizzy later. “Either way, once we get back we need to figure out what our next step is,” I said, determination flooding through me. “We should help the police find the killer so we can wrap this case up quickly, because the longer it drags on, the longer you’ll be in danger.”
“And that means you’ll also be in danger.” He frowned.
I glanced at him, then back at the ground. “That means we need to make a list of suspects.”
