“It seems you truly can’t.”
“Where was Stowe headed?”
“Well now, I’m not sure.”
“Answer me, Mercury!”
The whip bent through the air and cracked against Hugh’s shoulder. Salim started to move, but Kat grabbed his arm. Hugh’s shoulder stung with pain where the whip had struck.
“There is no way I can tell you something that I don’t know.”
“You would still defy me, your guardian?”
“I never wanted to defy you. I respect you. However, I am the Silver Sugar Viscount. In order to fulfill my own duties, I had no choice.”
The Earl of Downing let out a low growl, like he was trying to restrain his anger. He signaled with his eyes to the soldiers waiting in the background.
“Arrest this man. I’ll get an answer from you yet, Mercury.”
“Wait!”
Just as a soldier was about to put his hand on Hugh’s shoulder, Kat raised his voice. Salim looked at him dubiously. But Kat’s eyes were fixed on the earl as he took up a position next to Hugh.
“This man is the Silver Sugar Viscount. You’ve gotta treat him as befits his station, don’t you? I reckon it should be up to His Majesty the King to decide what happens to him.”
Hugh looked up at Kat in surprise. Kat was standing face-to-face with the Earl of Downing, interposing himself between the earl and Hugh.
“And you are?” asked the earl. “I’ve seen you before. Are you a candy crafter?”
“Alph Hingley.”
“Hingley. In our society, if a man defies his guardian, that guardian can punish the offense.”
“But I doubt you can strip him of his standing. The title of Silver Sugar Viscount is granted by His Majesty, after all. So as long as he hasn’t had his title revoked, you need to treat him like a viscount, don’t you?”
“I just remembered. You’re…”
The Earl of Downing narrowed his eyes as if he was sifting through distant memories.
The earl may not have known Kat personally, but when Hugh was selected as the Silver Sugar Viscount, Kat’s name would have come up as a candidate for the post. Hugh had heard as much from the earl after he’d received his appointment.
Kat had been a candidate for Silver Sugar Viscount along with Hugh, but because of his difficult personality, he had been quickly removed from consideration. However, since he had been raised as a possibility, the Earl of Downing must have been familiar with Kat’s face, as well as his work and his abilities.
“This guy is still the Silver Sugar Viscount,” Kat said again.
The Earl of Downing nodded gravely at Kat’s words. “I see. Hingley, what you say is correct. Very well.”
As he spoke, the Earl of Downing sent the whip flying again. It struck Hugh across the face. After the intense shock, a line of blood ran down Hugh’s cheek. His face contorted in pain.
“I will treat him like a viscount. I won’t bind him. However, I will enact punishment. Given my station, it is within my rights to mete out discipline to any viscount who defies me.”
The whip bent through the air; this time, it struck the opposite cheek, and a fresh line of blood ran down Hugh’s face.
Kat nodded blandly. “The Silver Sugar Viscount is prepared. Go ahead.”
Even as he gritted his teeth against the next blow, which fell across his shoulder, Hugh smiled on the inside.
“Go ahead,” huh? You’re such a jerk, Kat.
“This is spooky… Super-duper spooky. Terrifically spooky. What should we do, Challe Fenn Challe?”
“How should I know?” Challe spat. He was getting fed up with his companion.
Three days had passed since they had rolled into the doctor’s house in Balkram.
No pursuers had come for them yet. They had probably dispersed at the nine-path intersection and were still unable to determine which way Challe and the others had gone. But sooner or later, they would find them. He needed to work out a plan before then.
Reginald had awoken on the second night of their stay. Then one day ago, Anne had reported that he had finally eaten a little bit of porridge. She had been nursing him diligently.
In the meantime, Challe and Mithril were staying in the barn with the wagon.
Challe was there to protect Lafalle’s coffin. Mithril stayed with Challe in the barn because he loathed being in the same house as a fairy dealer.
Mithril seemed to find the presence of Lafalle’s coffin unnerving, though, and wouldn’t come out of Challe’s pocket. And despite his gloomy mood, he nevertheless kept rattling on and on about how scary it was. Challe had wanted to smother him countless times already.
Lying on top of a large pile of hay, Challe looked up at the high ceiling of the barn.
Light spilled in through the gaps in the boards overhead—the radiant light of spring. Even the way the dust danced in its glow was beautiful. The black coffin, too, was made less intimidating by the light. It still sat in the same spot in the wagon’s bed.
The only thing Challe could think about was the fairy they’d encountered four days earlier—the one who had come from his brother stone, Erril Fenn Erril.
He was probably searching for Lafalle and would eventually come to find them. He was considerably skilled. If he and Challe fought one-on-one, neither of them would come out unscathed.
It sounded like Erril adored Lafalle and was trying to wake him, but that was far too dangerous. If Erril came looking for Lafalle, Challe would have to fight him.
Do I really have to fight Erril?
It was an ironic fate for two brother stones. As for Challe, while he had taken Lafalle’s coffin and Reginald and escaped, he was still considering what to do next.
First, they needed to contact the Fairy Merchants Guild and hand Reginald over to their leaders so they could keep him somewhere safe. Then they’d go back to Northern Blow. If they didn’t, Anne’s position would likely be in jeopardy.
Hugh had defied the Earl of Downing. He’d done so knowing he might be arrested, stripped of his rights, and imprisoned. But Challe was hoping the same wouldn’t happen to Anne. Anne was innocent; she’d simply followed an order from the Silver Sugar Viscount. At least, that was probably what Hugh was thinking.
Challe needed to get Anne back to Northern Blow as quickly as possible so Hugh’s courage and his consideration for her didn’t go to waste.
But I’m not sure that scarecrow brain will go along with things the way the Viscount hopes…
That was the issue. He knew Anne wouldn’t be happy foisting all the responsibility onto Hugh and walking away scot-free by herself.
In the spare moments between nursing Reginald, Anne brought Challe and Mithril food and tea. Though she’d seemed happy when Reginald first woke up, on the following day, her expression had become somber. Now that Reginald was out of immediate danger, she couldn’t stop herself from worrying about Hugh.
Reginald ate his breakfast sitting up, leaning back against the bed’s headboard. After he finished his sweet porridge and fruit, Anne took the tray from his hands.