Page 20 of Her Cruel Dahlias
“Take as much time to yourself today as you need.” Mistress Eliza patted Cricket’s shoulder before limping away.
Bram wasn’t with the authorities, and he would discover what happened soon, but she was supposed to have already been there anyway.
Cricket started down the road when Zephyr caught up with her. “You’re still going for tea after that?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to drink tea at all today,” she said as she continued walking. “But I want to let Bram know what happened and uncover a few things anyway. He doesn’t live far from here.”
“Let me at least take you there.” Concern filled his eyes as he looked at her.
After seeing a victim’s body, going alone probably wasn’t such a good idea. “I’ll take your offer, then.”
Cricket glanced over her shoulder to find Charles watching them with a scowl as the victim’s body was wrapped in sheets to be loaded into the carriage.
Chapter Nine
The town center was busy as usual. An older woman in a pale green dress watered plants outside the flower shop while two men got their shoes shined in front of another. Through the food market window, a bald man cleaved apart a large chunk of bloodied meat. Cricket turned away in disgust, reminded of the dead woman’s open rib cage. Instead, she focused on the lovely smell drifting out from the bread and pastry shops.
Zephyr walked beside her down the bustling streets, close enough to where his woodsy scent cocooned her. Word of the recent murder hadn’t made it to the town yet, but it would soon.
She kept alert, searching for anyone who might seem suspicious or keep their eyes trained on her a beat too long, but stares only lingered on Zephyr, with his kohl-lined eyes and exposed chest. He’d slipped on a vest he’d pulled from his bag, unbothered that there wasn’t a shirt to wear beneath it.
“All the women are looking at you,” she whispered. And something akin to jealousy swirled within her, making her frown.
“There’s only one woman I want looking at me,” he purred as they turned the corner, and a blush crept up her neck. “I always like when the carnival visits Nobel.”
“Because of the attention you get?” She arched a brow.
“Partly.” Zephyr grinned. “Though it’s mostly because people are so welcoming here. In other cities, not so much. You’ll see.”
“If Mistress Eliza allows me to stay.” She sighed, remembering how, once again, her curiosity had reared its ugly head with a devilish black flower instead of a rose. “Are you going to mention the dahlia slipping out to her?”
“What dahlia?” he said slyly.
Cricket smiled and grasped his upper arm, drawing him to a stop as they rounded another corner. “Thank you.”
“I think you just wanted me in this back alley.” His playful expression softened. “But seriously, how are you? I know it wasn’t easy seeing that.”
“It’s worse than a nightmare. I’m going to help Bram in whatever way I can, though.” Being bold and desperate for a drink, she slipped her hand into his pocket and fished out the flask. “May I?”
Zephyr nodded, his gaze hooded. “Mm-hmm. Reach in there any time you bloody well wish.”
Rolling her eyes, she took a swig of the liquor and let the burn ease her tension. Before she could put it back, he drank from the flask.
“Come on, we’re almost there.” Cricket led him down a winding road to a neighborhood with several large manors, lush and beautiful gardens decorating the front of each one.
Zephyr chatted about mundane things like the reason why the sky was blue, and she knew it was to keep her distracted. She was thankful for it too.
A gust of warm wind blew past them, carrying the salty scent of the sea that lingered on the other side of the cliff behind the manors. Bram’s palatial home came into view—gray stone, tall windows, and perfectly manicured gardens beneath the dancing rays of the sun surrounded a majestic fountain of a stag with a stream of water falling from its mouth.
Anika used to come here as a child when her mother worked for Bram’s parents, which was how Cricket had met him.
“This is Bram’s home,” Cricket said as she pointed at the black iron fence. “I can ask him to take you back to the carnival with the carriage if you don’t want to walk.”
Zephyr blinked, his face neutral—she now understood it to be a way of him wanting to hide how he felt. “No, I’m fine with walking. I didn’t expect an authority to be so wealthy. This is a manor fit for a damn prince.”
“It belonged to his parents, but his father passed away during the plague, and his mother’s lungs weren’t great after. She was bedridden until she didn’t wake up one morning three years ago.
His face softened at her words. “No parents. Seems we have that in common.”