it’s a good plan, returning to Monmoore?” She asked once she was dry and warm.
Mrs. Boyde took her place. “There may be great pain for you, in returning.”
“I know.” She stood to the side of the window looking out into the busy yard. Late afternoon sun caused long shadows. What would happen if Cinderella ruled the land? She’d been willing to kill for that power. She shuddered at the thought of what she would do with it. “She must be stopped. Cinderella must never be queen.”
The private parlor had a cracked door that dulled the roar of the tavern to a buzz. There was a long seat covered with faded fabric, images of flowers and shrubs still showed. They sat at the wood table. For all its grimy dirt, the inn provided a decent tray of supper. Roasted lamb, stewed vegetables from the winter garden, and mugs of warmed spiced cider were offered to ward off the chill. Marissa served Robert a portion of lamb, leaning close enough for their shoulders to touch. She breathed his scent, reminding her of earth and wind.
Captain’s Standish’s wink caused her cheeks to heat. He plucked a potato from his fork and turned to Mrs. Boyde. “You found something on the river road?”
“Cinderella’s home. The attack came close to achieving her goal.” She shared the ill adventure that had plagued the afternoon.
Captain Standish glared at Marissa. “We had a plan.”
“I couldn’t help myself. Something drew me from the carriage.”
“Your own innate sense of curiosity.”
Marissa wanted to deny it, but the captain’s blue eyes bore through her façade. She lowered her head.
Robert took Marissa’s hand.
“Do you believe us?” She peered at him. “Do you believe Cinderella is not the woman you think her?”
“I struggle to think of her as a witch, but I cannot deny—” he released her, grabbing his fork to toy with the food on his plate.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him. “The raven man. He’s been held by her for an age, forced to her will. Would you suffer the same fate?”
“But what is to be done? How do we stop her?”
Mrs. Boyde straightened in her chair and placed her mug on the table. “We return to Monmoore. She has woven a deep spell around that place, and that is where it must be broken.”
Robert knew what going back meant. Here, free of Cinderella, feelings for Marissa raced through him. Feelings that were stronger than he believed possible. Going back would take those feelings from him. He studied the woman at his side. She hadn’t taken time for her hair, allowing it to fall except for the front pulled back in a braid. Her eyes glowed, though death had tried to claim her that afternoon. He knew every imperfection. The scar on her forehead. Freckles across her nose because she hated bonnets. He shook himself and focused across the table. Mrs. Boyde and Captain Standish ate in silence, but both had interesting smiles on their faces.
“Maybe returning isn’t the best choice. There has to be another way.”
Mrs. Boyde gave a stern look. “Prince, I’m going to ask something bluntly, and I want you to think before you respond. Cinderella’s spell is strong, and yet she struggles to keep you in her control. Is it possible you love another?”
“Love? Of course, I love others. Father.” He looked at Marissa.
“Do you love Marissa?”
“She is my dearest friend, the sister I never had.”
Marissa’s face drooped. She pushed her chair from the table and stood. “I am ready to retire. The events, this afternoon,” she glowered at Robert, causing him to frown. “We can plan further in the morning.” She rushed away before he could stop her, before any of them could make her wait.
Mrs. Boyde stood to follow, but Robert held up his hand. “I will go. We need to talk.”
He took the stairs two at a time, reassured to hear Marissa’s steps not far from him. She had unlocked the room when he caught up with her.
She gave him a glance and then stood in the doorway facing into the room, her back to him. “I’m tired.”
“Liar.” He knew her, could feel emotions rolling from her.
Her arms crossed. “I almost drowned. I think I’m permitted to be a bit tired.”
“We’ve grown up together, Mars. I know you’re angry with me.”
“I’m not angry. You said what I’ve always wanted you to say.”
Little curls hid in her hair. He couldn’t resist sweeping his hands beneath it and letting it run across his fingers. “I