III. The Thief

Once upon a Town...

Poppy and Posy Prewitt looked at those beneath them as people they could use.

Belinda found it ridiculous to hear them plan their foolish empire inside Madam Pearson's School for Young Ladies. 'We would be queens,' they said. Belinda included, of course, for they needed a pretty face.

The Prewitt name had been around for ages. Their family was among the ancient ones in the Town and they had been from a fine line of impressive titles and wealth. But somewhere along that line, something must have gone wrong, Belinda believed, for the sisters were by far too shallow for such high regard.

'The Prewitts are important,' her mother said. Thus, Amber Carrington made all necessary measures to push pretty little Belinda into their lives.

*****

McKenzie waited outside the tavern beside his horse. Two other Guards were inside, asking questions.

He looked down the road that led straight to Wickhurst. Maybe she was already there. Or was she even going there?

But she had nowhere to go. They knew she never went to anyone in Willowfair, most definitely her father. But there was one person she may go to for safety—her sister. Julia Carrington had married years ago and now lived in Wickhurst.

His thoughts brought him back to that night Belinda Carrington visited him. Why did she not tell him everything?

Would you have believed her if she said she was banished aboveground?

There was only one obvious answer. He would not have believed her. But he might have given her the benefit of the doubt.

His horse nudged his shoulder with its head and he absently ran his hand over its mane. Perhaps they should rest. They had been traveling for two days in search of Belinda Carrington.

He led his horse across the street, intending to take it inside the stable at the back of the tavern. The horses of the two other Guards were tethered outside the entrance. He would take care of them, too, and then he would tell his companions they might as well stay the night in Marsden.

He stopped to let a man and his horse pass. They were coming from the direction of the stable, a pair of shadows stepping into the light from the lamp overhead. The horse was black; the man wrapped in a dark cloak from head to foot.

McKenzie waited impatiently. Now that he had decided to stay the night, he was eager to crawl into bed. He guided his horse to step back to make room for the man and his horse. His eyes landed on the ground, then at the pair of muddy shoes that walked past him.

He frowned, trying to remember why they looked familiar. And then he blinked as the smell reached him. It may have been two days, but this was merely the second time he came upon that smell.

His head snapped up, recognizing the cloaked figure who had by now mounted the black horse. Before he could call out, Belinda Carrington was riding away and someone standing outside the tavern door shouted, "Oi! That's my horse!"

And hell broke loose: Men shouted for torches and horses, screaming about a horse thief.

"Bloody tarnation!" McKenzie cursed under his breath, mounting his horse to join the chase.

*****

Belinda knew she could not go to Wickhurst. With people so close to her tail, she could not risk going to her sister now.

The man said there were others coming soon. How many men had they sent after her?

Riding out of Marsden, she realized her stolen horse would eventually get tired. She had no means to feed it. She would have to sell or trade it in the next village. She planned on riding further north, but then she encountered a crossing. If she went straight, it would take days to reach another village. The left would lead her to Wickhurst. The road to the right, if her recollection was correct, would get her to Oakley.

How ironic, she thought, that she would be traveling to the village so close to Theobald, the place that changed her life five years ago. And she did just that. She guided the horse to the right, down the narrow path between two high walls of earth.

There were no lampposts. And it was only when utter darkness shrouded her that she realized she may have very well placed herself in danger. To make matters worse, she could hear hooves behind her. Distant at first, then nearer, mimicking her racing heartbeats.

"Thief!" the voice called out behind her.

Belinda urged the gelding faster, but it slowed down and stopped.

"Please, please," she said, looking behind her. But the horse refused to move, hesitant to venture further into the darkness. Belinda jumped down, falling to the ground in haste. Her rucksack fell somewhere too, and she blindly searched for it, hands trembling, her senses too aware of the danger that would surely come to her.

Was this the end? Was it over now?

Yes, the dark, weary voice in her head answered as the two men arrived, their torches high in the air.

Belinda struggled with her cloak to cover her head, as if it could protect her. She should have stayed in the stable. She should not have stolen the horse.

"You bloody bastard!" the man shouted as soon as he jumped off his horse. He stormed toward Belinda and kicked, hitting her shoulder, sending her stumbling back on the ground. "You bloody thief!"

She refused to look up and see who her attacker was. It could be the owner of the tavern. Or worse, it could be one of the men searching for her. A hand reached down and grabbed the collar of her cloak, pulling her to her feet.

She shrunk, muscles tight against the strength holding her upright. She prepared for the blow. They always came next, she thought. But not this time.

The force gripping her loosened and she staggered back on the side of the road and against the wall of earth.

"Stop," a voice ordered. A whimper escaped her lips and she bit them hard. Anne told her it was paramount that no one finds out she was a woman—helpless and weak against a man. But then Belinda realized the voice was not talking to her. Her attacker was holding a torch in one hand, and it gave Belinda a clear view of McKenzie Haverston. He was holding her attacker by the arm.

The man did not fight back, so did his companion. They both saw the red Town Guard coat around McKenzie Haverston. "He stole my horse!" the man screamed, pointing his torch at Belinda. She turned away, hiding her face.

"Then get your horse back and leave," McKenzie said.

"But—"

"I'll deal with this thief."

There was a moment of pause. Finally, the man nodded and stepped away from McKenzie as soon as the latter let him go. He gestured to his companion and the two of them left, carrying the black gelding and their torches with them.

Belinda dropped to the ground, searching for her rucksack. She found it, stood, and faced McKenzie Haverston. "Are you going to take me in?" she asked.

"No."

"Thank you." Without a word, she slung her rucksack over her shoulder, then flinched when it hurt. The bloody bastard kicked her too hard.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," she lied, brow twitching. She transferred her sack over her good shoulder. It was dark again, but she knew where she had to go. "Why are you here? Were you following me?"

"I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

She halted, blinking in the dark. "I refuse your kind offer," she said. "I don't need your help."

"Of course, you do. You asked for it not two days ago."

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"You lied to me."

"What did I lie to you about?"

"You did not tell me where they took you."

Her hand tightened around her rucksack. "That was not a lie."

"Hiding information can be one."

"Not in my book, Mr Haverston." Belinda adjusted her rucksack over her shoulder and walked on. He followed, and this time he was on his horse. She could hear the hooves beside her.

"This is not the way to Wickhurst, my lady."

"Don't call me that," she snapped. She should not be angry with him, really, but she could not help it. He dismissed her two days ago. "And I'm not headed to Wickhurst."

"Good. Because that's not where your sister is at the moment."

She stopped, and so did his horse. "Then where is she?"

"Somewhere," he said. Then, he asked, "Why did you steal the horse?"

"I needed a pet," she wryly bit out. "Tell me where my sister is."

"I will tell you once I get you to safety. And that's what you want, yes?"

She could see nothing save for his silhouette above her. In the darkness, she felt confident. He could not see her—the poor state of her clothing, the filthy hair. He only had to trust her voice. "This is the safest I have been for days, Mr Haverston. Tell me where Julia is."

"In her husband's family estate."

So it was true. Julia was married. "Who is she married to?"

His horse stomped, causing her to jump away. He took a moment to soothe his horse, bending low to caress its neck, then he straightened. "Noah Trilby."

She went cold and took a step back.

"They married not long after you...left."

She shook her head. She had imagined someone else—someone at least decent. With Belinda's scandal five years ago, she did not think Julia would ever land herself a titled man. But she did. And she landed the worst of the lot.

The anger had been a companion for years, but it surprised her to know that it was still too strong. To find that Julia was married to Noah Trilby fueled the fury.

But it should not be a surprise. Noah Trilby was rich and his family was powerful. Just like what Emmet Carrington wanted.

And it explained everything. Everything.

"Will you let me take you somewhere now?" McKenzie asked.

Her lips shook. Was she about to cry? No, that could not be. The tears had long abandoned her. She rubbed her dusty hand over her face, over her forehead, pushing the hood of her cloak back.

"Belinda?" McKenzie Haverston spoke again.

"You'll help me?" she asked.

"If you tell me everything."

She blindly looked down the road, thinking hard. Julia married to a Trilby. It was unexpected. Like walking in a dark road thinking you would land on ground, only at the last step there was none.

Everything has changed, Belinda. What are you going to do now?

She had to remain calm. She was still useful to McKenzie Haverston and his case. If she played her cards right, she might just get what she deserved. She moistened her lips before she continued. "In return for the information I give you, you will give me everything I ask for."

"I prefer if we make negotiations in a much more conducive venue. I assume you are exhausted. So am I."

In the darkness, Belinda made up her mind. She nodded even though he may not see it.

"I would like to get on your horse now, Mr Haverston," she said.