In the stables, Rick found several horses that must have belonged to the Count’s men. He nearly took one for himself and Elsie to ride, but decided against it. They would be less conspicuous leaving town on foot, especially compared to riding such a fine horse in common clothes.

His plan depended on the men he encountered at Selby Hall not knowing where to follow. He wouldn’t pin his hopes on the Count being so clueless, but he hoped that he could put a couple days between them as they went back to Dunhall for their orders.

They took off toward the west, towards Marquess Julian’s territory.

With Windermere behind them but not yet out of sight, Elsie asked where they were going.

“To the march, to meet with Marquess Julian,” Rick said.

“To the march… where Mateus is from?” Elsie asked. She sounded hopeful.

“Maybe not that far. But near it, yes.”

“Why are we going?”

Rick pulled the letter from his pocket to show her the letter. “Your father wrote to him. He couldn’t send this letter, but he may have gone to speak with him directly.”

Elsie took her time reading the letter, and seemed dissatisfied with what she found. “If you say so,” she said doubtfully.

Rick had noticed back in the library that the letter didn’t offer much to go on, but this way they were not likely to cross paths with anyone who might pursue them.

He planned to find a farmhouse with friendly occupants who would let them stay the night, but he pushed on farther than he would have if he wasn’t trying to put as much distance between them and the Count as possible.

He came to regret it when the sun was low on the horizon and there were no settlements in sight. Elsie began to complain of the cold, and Rick’s mind ran in circles. Should we go back? How much farther can it be?

Rick kept his eyes toward the horizon, eyes peeled for some promise of a warm roof and a soft bed. His hopes rose with every hillock they climbed. Every tree they passed could be hiding a light in a window or smoke from a chimney.

Finally, they crested a hill and found themselves looking down over a shallow valley covered in vast fields and dotted with houses. The nearest one was only a short way down the slope.

Elsie pointed at it. “Can we stay there?” She asked miserably.

They reached the house before the last light was gone, and were greeted by an old man who was leaning against a fence, watching over the flock of sheep.

Rick

“There’s firewood around back. The way your daughter’s shivering, we’ll need a few more logs in there.” He held out his hand to shake.

“Rick took it and said, “Right away. Thank you.”

The man turned to Elsie and said, “Come on in if you want, darling. Sharon’ll have supper ready any time now. “ Then ambled off toward the house without a backward glance.

Rick urged Elsie toward the door as they approached the house, but she shook her head and said she would stay with him. Rick grabbed a couple logs, and Elsie picked up a smaller one for herself. They brought them inside and met Sharon, the man’s wife, and learned that the man’s name was Ned.

Rick probably could have lied down by the fireplace and fallen asleep in minutes, but instead he went back out for more logs.

To his surprise, Elsie gave the fireplace a wide berth and even followed him outside.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay inside? I’m freezing.”

She shook her head. “I’m not cold anymore.” She fidgeted with her cloak, growing as she frowned as she tugged at the knot around her neck. She flung the cape behind her shoulders. The weight of it pulled the strings tighter around her neck, making the knot harder to work with.

“What are you doing? Keep your cloak on or go inside,” Rick said sharply.

With a huff, she finally got it off and balled it up in her arms. “It’s too warm,” she whined.

Rick side-eyed her. Elsie had been whining about the cold for the last hour. Just ten minutes ago it was all, “My nose hurts,” and “I can’t feel my forehead.” And it was cold outside.

But now her skin was red and shining. Rick stopped and looked closer. There was barely enough light to tell, but her hair curled flatly across her forehead and looked to be damp with sweat. She was overheating.

“Elsie, are you doing that?”

Elsie shifted from annoyed to frightened in an instant. “I—I don’t know. How do I stop it?” She whispered.

Rick cursed under his breath. What could he do? Shove her in the river? No, that would put them back where they started.

Rick dropped the logs and half ran back inside, pulling her along behind him.

“Sorry, she’s not feeling well,” he explained to Sharon and Harry, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he dragged Elsie to the fireplace. She was pulling against his grip and pleading, “No—!”

“Calm down. The fire is warm enough. Let it go," he soothed her.

Sharon came to stand next to them, ready to fret over her young visitor. “What’s wrong, dear?” She asked.

“She’s freezing,” Rick explained. “Just needs to warm up.”

“It’s too warm,” Elsie complained.

“She’s afraid of fire!” Rick said quickly. “Poor thing. She’d sooner freeze herself in the lake than come in to warm her hands."

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sharon said sweetly, stroking Elsie’s hair. “Some stew should warm you right up, no fire needed. How does that sound?”

Elsie was calming down, and she no longer looked like she wanted to bolt or pass out. She nodded, then accepted the bowl Ned brought her with a grateful smile.

They had a few days left on the road, and relied on the hospitality of locals to find lodging each night. Rick slowed his pace, and they took the rest of the journey in shorter stretches. They soon reached Ceredan, home to Marquess Julian’s castle.

Rather than barge into the castle to demand an immediate audience with the Marquess, Rick booked an inn so they could rest and wash up.

Rick took the opportunity to finally look over the things he had taken from Henry’s library, as he had avoided showing them in front of their hosts over the last few days.

Clearly, Henry had been interrupted shortly after beginning his letter to Marquess Julian. It contained little more than a greeting, so the point of the letter was impossible to know. But Henry had hidden it at the first sign of trouble, so it had to be something important. As far as Rick knew, Count Seymour was Henry’s biggest problem, and he also knew that Henry had already sought outside help at least once before, from Edmond.

Rick had a guess as to what business Henry might have with the Marquess—that is, if the book Rick grabbed with the letter was any clue. Rick turned to the book next, the “Dissolution of Elven Domain.” Its account of Mateus’ life nearly matched Sibyl’s, only it reported his death. There was no mention of him being human.

Rick read on, then closed the book with a grimace. Before the collapse, the border laid farther east than in Rick’s lifetime, and even Windermere had once been firmly under elven rule. Unfortunately, the elves made for poor neighbors. Those stories had never bothered him when they were only stories told to scare children away from trouble.

They were also known to be powerful mages. Rick set the book aside and rubbed his eyes, tired from reading in the dim light of the room.