But how can we protect him from the Earl of Downing?!
Keith started to feel hopeless. But then he remembered Anne’s face. He knew she would never give up, no matter what happened. He knew what she would say: that there had to be something they could do. Just as he was losing energy, Keith rallied himself.
I’ll think of something—some possibility!
All sorts of information was rushing around inside his head. He sorted, rearranged, and connected it. At last, one single possibility occurred to him.
“Viscount. Please, write a letter in your name.” Keith looked up, face full of determination, and made this firm request. “I’m sure you must have realized it as well. This is your only chance.”
Hugh let out a loud, deep sigh. “It’s a gamble. The earl has been serving the kingdom much longer than I have. Considering that…it might be a fool’s errand.”
“It might be a gamble, but you can never win if you don’t play the game,” Keith asserted firmly. He held out his hand and made the request again. “Write a letter, please. Let’s roll the dice, Viscount. I’ll take on the challenge.”
Keith had been chosen by Hugh Mercury and bore the weight of his expectations. He wanted to carry this through.
Anne can’t do it. Neither can Challe nor Mr. Hingley. But maybe I can. I’m sure they haven’t yet forgotten my face. I’m the son of the former Silver Sugar Viscount, who held the position for over twenty years!
Keith had hated being teased for growing up in a noble household, but in that moment, he was glad for it. His status as Keith Powell, son of the former Silver Sugar Viscount, was going to give him an advantage.
“I alone can pass through that gate.”
Hugh broke into a smile. “I see. All right, let’s gamble.”
Several hours later, Keith secretly left the inn alone, carrying with him a single letter.
The sun was already beginning to set.
They were driving the wagon as quickly as possible, but even so, Anne was impatient.
North of the old church was a crossroads where the road forked into nine paths.
Three of them took major turns and stretched east, west, and south toward the coasts. The fourth and fifth roads passed through the northern suburbs of Redington and Ribonpool—large cities to the west and east respectively. The remaining four roads spread out like the ribs on a folding fan, leading even farther north into a region known as the Bleak Wastes.
Hugh had suggested Balkram, one of the larger villages in the Bleak Wastes, would be a suitable direction for their flight. Just as he’d said, there was little traffic on the road, and they didn’t encounter any patrolling soldiers.
No one was following them, either. Any pursuers had probably lost them at the crossroads, unable to tell which of the nine paths they had taken.
Reginald’s injury was quite serious. They’d laid him in the wagon bed, and Anne had been pressing down on his wound with both hands the whole time, using whatever fabric they had. But she hadn’t been able to stop the slow bleeding, and Reginald’s complexion kept getting paler. Moreover, his body had begun to shiver and shake.
“Mr. Stowe, are you cold?” she asked.
Reginald bared his teeth, which were chattering loudly, and put on a confident smile. “Where…are we headed? It must be far.”
“Balkram. Do you know it?”
“I do… I lived in Northern Blow…when I was a kid… That’s where I sold her, at the fairy market in Northern Blow…” His mumbling voice sounded hoarse and delirious.
We’ve got to get him to a doctor soon.
The large black shadow of the Birseth mountain range stood tall before them. The setting sun was sloping toward the west, and the dark-indigo sky was pressing in on them from the east. The temperature was dropping. It was getting chilly.
If they let Reginald die now, all the risks Hugh was taking would be in vain, and the fairies’ hopes for the future would be lost.
“There are lights up ahead.”
Challe pointed forward. When Anne stretched up to look, she could see the flickering lights of a village.
“Mr. Stowe! It’s Balkram! There will be a doctor there. It’s just a little farther.”
A bit of life came back into Reginald’s eyes.
Challe whipped the horse even harder, urging it on. As they sprinted down the road toward the village, a two-story house with a spacious garden came into view right at the entrance. The garden was enclosed by a stone wall, and the mark of a doctor—a design featuring a medicine vial and a knife—was carved into one of the gateposts. When he saw that, Challe pulled on the reins and slowed the horse down. Steering the animal skillfully, he brought the wagon inside the gate.
As soon as they stopped in the garden, Anne jumped down from the cargo bed and ran up to the front door of the house.
“Excuse me! Hello! We have an injured person! Please open up!”
She knocked forcefully on the door many times, practically clinging to it. But there was no answer, nor any sign of someone moving around inside. Thinking this strange, Anne backed away from the door a little and looked around at the state of the house. She was shocked.
There were no lights burning, nor any sounds. Nobody was home.
And when we finally managed to get here, too!
She felt a chill run from her head down to her knees.
“Is there another village nearby?” Challe called to her from the driver’s seat.
In her head, Anne pictured the map she had gotten from Hugh. “I think so. If we go straight north from here, there should be one more village.”
“We’ll go there. Get in.”
Anne did as she was told and got in the wagon, but the chill in her body’s core remained.
There ought to be a doctor in the next village. But no matter how optimistic they were, they knew they wouldn’t arrive until the middle of the night. In his current condition, Reginald wouldn’t last that long.
“Mr. Stowe. It looks like the doctor here isn’t home. There’s another village nearby. We’ll go there.”
Anne kept her emotions out of her voice as best she could, and Reginald groaned out a laugh from between his teeth.
“We won’t make it… We won’t…”
“You’ll be fine.”
“…I won’t make it.” His voice was growing thinner.
“Mr. Stowe!”
Just then—
“You there, what’s going on?”
—they heard a puzzled voice. Looking down from the wagon with a start, they saw a little old man come tottering through the stone gate. His long, white beard stood out in the night.
“This is my house. How dare you barge in like this?”
Anne jumped down from the wagon and ran up to the old man. He looked startled, and his eyes opened wide.
“What’s the matter with you?! Your hands! You’re covered in blood!”
“Please, I beg you! We have an injured person! Hurry, you need to treat him right away, please!”