“Oh they aren’t, are they?” Lord Dalton retorted. “Whose might they be, then—and why would you be so keen on burning them?” He squinted at the mangled signature on one of the scraps.
Charlie scowled deeply, huffing heavily for a long while, but at last, he hung his head. “They belong to Master Thomas,” he confessed. “He’s lost a bit o’ money quite regular, an' that bookkeeper Verdi 'as been keepin' close account, sendin' the master 'ome with credit--and what is more, the day we arrived here in town, he makes me go with'm to a pawn shop--run out o' the kite shop, that feller Fischer unloads 'em--'im with a pocket full o' jewels to sell, and makes me swear I'd never tell nobody nor ask where 'e got 'em.” He raised a pitiful gaze to the incensed young man. “I shouldn’t’ve kept ‘em 'criminatin' slips o' paper; I always meant to get rid of ‘em sooner, but—“
“What you should have done,” Lord Dalton reprimanded the servant, “is come forward about it on the very first day it began!” He waved a hand at the servants, “Find some safe place to keep him under close watch, Mason, and call Inspector Tenney once more.” His narrow gaze shifted to his son, whose face had gone from red-hot to ghostly pale in a short amount of time. “As for you,” he said, “You will tell me the exact history of your gambling debts, give an exact account for the money you’ve lost, and if you do not want to plunge this family into scandal by getting yourself arrested, I sincerely hope you have some semblance of an idea as to what sort of work you will do to recompense the charges!”
Thomas crumpled under his father’s judgment. Agatha and her mother shared a glance, and Agatha led Celian out of the room. The rest of the conversation would remain between her brother and their parents.
Celian sighed heavily when they had reached the outside.
“I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean—“
“It was the right thing,” Agatha assured him quickly. “Thomas made his own mistakes, and he needs to bear the consequences.” She gave a tiny shiver. “Let’s not think about that now.” She smiled up at him. “I do believe there is a young girl who would love to know what has passed between us.”
Celian smiled and gave a little chuckle. “Of course! I promised the Groves a visit. Madi will be waiting.”
He offered his arm to Agatha, and she slipped her hand around it. “Then let’s not keep the poor girl in too much suspense!”
They walked down the lane arm-in-arm, the Damsel and her Water-Man.
THE END
Tears of Stone
Raine English
Tears of Stone © 2020 Raine English
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Chapter 1
1333 BC, Greece
Iola held tight the collar of her cloak as she crossed the northern edge of the bay. A strong wind had kicked up, making her glad that she had collected her herbs this morning when the weather had been sunny and warm. All she needed now was some of the rich red soil that bordered the shore and a bit of squill—a plant that grew from the rocky ledges near the palace walls.
As she approached the water, a flock of birds took flight, flying around her in all directions. She felt bad for scaring them off, but she needed the minerals to make her remedy for the young prince. It was a huge honor to have been summoned by the king. Although her healing powers were known throughout the region, this would be her first time treating royalty.
Iola opened her cloak to untie the pouch from her waist, then removed a small vile and used it to scoop up some earth. When finished, she headed toward the palace, stopping just long enough to pick a lovely scarlet-tinged flower that she dropped inside the pouch. The plant had many uses, such as a treatment for dropsy and protection against evil spirits. Today, though, she would mix the squill with several other ingredients that would be used for Prince Alexio’s remedy. His ailment had grown worse recently, and nothing the other healers had given him had worked. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case with hers. The mixture had been used on many who suffered the same breathing difficulties as the prince, and it had helped them all.
Skirting around the rocks, she was careful not to catch her clothing on the sage and other shrubs that grew from the limestone cavities. A few minutes later, she approached the summit. She sucked in a deep breath before continuing toward the palace that gleamed before her like a giant jewel.
A guard seemed to appear from nowhere. The first thing she spotted was his large hand gripping the handle of his sword.
“The king is expecting me.” She hated that her voice broke, exposing her nervousness. “I am here for his son.” She pulled back the front of her cloak enough for him to catch a glimpse of her medicinal pouch.
He let out what could only be called a grunt, then led her to a large gateway. After that, he opened a thick wooden door. When she crossed the stone threshold into a narrow gallery, a feeling
