Once a Princess

Chapter 6

"Dead!?"

The incredulous exclamations came at Dobbs from two different directions at once. He didn't know whether to elaborate on what he'd said or demand some answers of his own. But his hands had begun to sweat, his brow, too, not because he was lying, but because those devil's eyes were trying to see right inside his head. He was sure of it.

He cleared his throat, surreptitiously wiping his palms on his blanket. "What's your interest in that baby? You're all kind of young to be the father, ain't you?" No answer came, which unnerved him even more.

And then the blond one, whom he'd barely noticed because his handsomeness made him seem less dangerous than the others, flung a retort at him. "There was only one grave found, the woman's. A mere pile of stones, guaranteed to crumble. "

The contempt in that voice, making it sound as if Dobbs had been deliberately inept, got his dander up.

"What was I supposed to do, dump her in the river?" Dobbs demanded. "When you don't have no shovel, you make do in these parts."

"There was still only the one grave, Mr. Dobbs," observed the one with blue eyes.

"The baby didn't die the same day. We'd already moved on."

The questions came at him from all of them then, and he had barely enough time to answer one before the next was shot at him.

"How many days later?"

"A few."

"Exactly?"

"Two, dammit!"

"What time of day?"

"How the hell should I remember?"

"What time did he die, Mr. Dobbs?"

"He? What he? She's a girl."

"She is? Or was?"

"Was! Was! What the hell is this? It don't make a peck of difference what she was, or what time she died. She's dead — that's all you need to know!"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Dobbs. We require proof."

"Proof that you will have to supply, Mr. Dobbs, since you claim to have buried her."

"In other words, Mr. Dobbs, you will have to lead us to her grave."

Dobbs stared at the three who had just spoken as if they were crazy. But they were serious, dead serious. The dark one with the unholy eyes hadn't said a word during the interrogation, nor did he now. He just watched, and listened, and made Dobbs even more uneasy with his silence.

"I can't lead anyone anywhere," Dobbs told them, for once glad it was true. "I haven't left this room in six months, not since—"

"The nature of your illness has little bearing," he was informed with a distinct lack of sympathy. "We will supply you a comfortable conveyance, and pay you for your time."

"It wouldn't do no good," Dobbs insisted nervously. "I put that baby in the ground, since she didn't need but a tiny grave, easy enough to scrap out with a sharp rock. But there weren't nothing to leave as a marker, and with twenty years come and gone, even with that other grave to judge the distance by, I'd never find—"

"You needn't explain further," the dark one cut in. "Thank you for your time."

As soon as it was said, they all turned and left the room. Dobbs fell back on his pillow, finally wiping his brow. He couldn't imagine what that had been all about, but he hoped never to go through it again.

At the top of the stairs, Stefan paused to state the obvious. "He was lying."

"Yes," Lazar agreed. "But why?"

"There can be only one reason," Serge said.

Their minds traveled the same path and came to the same appalling conclusion. It was Vasili who burst out, "Don't even think it! She's a tavern whore, for God's sake, and ugly"

"She has the right color eyes," Lazar pointed out.

He was no longer the least bit amused.

"There are probably a hundred women with green eyes in this town alone," Vasili insisted. "And besides, that horrid female downstairs cannot possibly be only twenty years of age. She's thirty if she's a day."

"Hard work can age anyone," Serge said. "And even her name, Tanya, is—"

"Enough!" Stefan hissed. "We each of us know how proof is to be established. I would suggest we establish it one way or the other, rather than argue the possibility."

Vasili still protested. "But even to consider her is insane. "

"There is nothing to consider if she is the one we seek, Vasili. You know that as well as I."

"Then I would just as soon not find out," Vasili replied. "But then I can't believe for a minute that she's the one. Mere circumstance doesn't make it so.

"But the crescent moon on her left cheek will."

"Damn you, Stefan! All right, if you insist on looking for it, you will do so without my help. I refuse to go near that foul tempered wench again."

"I doubt your assistance will be necessary," Stefan said tightly. "I believe I can spare a few coins, which is all it should take to get a whore to raise her skirts."

Vasili flushed crimson at those words. He'd said it himself, called her a whore more than once, but that wasn't the same as hearing it from Stefan. How could his cousin even consider the possibility that a whore could be the future Queen of Cardinia?

Before the two cousins got physical in their disagreement, Lazar stepped between them. "Why don't I find the girl and just ask her if she has any unusual marks on her person?" he suggested. "If she can describe the damned moon, it won't be necessary to embarrass her or ourselves."

"She's not going to answer a personal question like that without knowing why she's being asked," Serge said. "And if she's told why, she'd carve the crescent on her backside herself to have a chance at the life we're offering."

"We're not going to tell her what we're looking for, Serge," Lazar said patiently. "She'd have to tell us—"

"You're still here?" the female in question demanded from the bottom of the stairs, a tray of food in her hands. "Well, there's the door, and hurry up, will you? Dobbs is waiting for his breakfast. "

"So we heard," Stefan said, coming down the stairs. "Take it to him, by all means."

"But, Stefan—"

A hand waved Lazar to silence.

Tanya had to wait until they'd all come down, the stairs were so narrow. She did so nervously, because her hands were encumbered with the tray, leaving her defenseless for the moment. That devil's eyes weren't glowing now, but she'd been mistaken last night in her relief. They really did glow, or seemed to, they brightened so much, and it had nothing to do with candlelight, for there'd been none this morning.

The handsome one's eyes were glowing, though... Lord help her, they burned as brightly as the other one's, they just didn't seem as satanic or frightening in an angel's face. But they were burning at her. That man despised her for some reason. She'd been slapped with his contempt last night. This morning he looked as if he'd like to erase her from the face of the earth. Well, the feeling was entirely mutual. She'd spent the night choking with the hurt he'd caused her to feel, the kind that went so deep it cut and bled tears. She'd rather feel Dobbs' stick across her back any day than suffer that kind of contempt again. At least physical pain went away, but she didn't think she'd ever forget last night's shame.

The other two men weren't nearly as intimidating as the two she'd already met. One was tall and slim of build, with dark brown hair and blue eyes that raked her from head to toe, as if he knew she hid something and was determined to find it. She wasn't accustomed to such curiosity. The other man was an inch or so shorter and stocky, with black hair and eyes, but a fair complexion. Tanya could have sworn there was sympathy in his dark eyes, and that more than anything kept her back straight and her lips tightly compressed, despite her nervousness.

But as soon as the last one reached the bottom of the stairs, she rushed up them, praying that was the last she'd see of any of them. She didn't know that four pairs of eyes turned to watch her ascent, or that one of the men was signaled to follow her. She simply rushed into Dobbs' room and kicked the door shut behind her with a great deal of relief.