The Weeping Heir: Tales of Balia

By Jill Penrod

As he turns nineteen, Nick Kyngeston seems to have the world. He's the heir to one of the most important kingdoms on Caperton Island. He's engaged to the girl he's loved all his life. He has wealth and looks and prestige. Unfortunately, all of it is supposed to belong to his twin brother, who drowned years ago, leaving Nick with a life he doesn't want and memories that haunt him.

 

Anselm, a foreign stable boy, appears just as Nick is thrust into his new role as the adult heir, a commoner who knows nothing of noble life and propriety and makes Nick laugh. Then Anselm saves Nick's life, nearly at the expense of his own, and they realize someone is trying to kill the heir to the throne, which puts Nick, his fiancée Cecily, and everyone else on the Kyngeston estate in danger.

 

While trying to thwart the danger, Nick and Anselm seek answers in a locked garden filled with mysteries and secrets from the past. But the tangle of secrets will lead them to discoveries that will change the lives of everyone on Caperton Island and could throw the future of the island into chaos.

 

The Weeping Heir is a Tale of Balia, stories of a world not unlike our own with a deity who will stop at nothing to bring his people home, one story at a time. Historic fantasy with a Christian worldview.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jill Penrod
• Release date: Mar 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201652135

Jill Penrod

Jill Penrod wrote her first novel in high school. It was a space opera (she watched Star Wars A LOT), and it was not great literature. But she persevered, graduating college with top honors in writing. Since then, she’s published more than thirty novels. She writes in several  genres including Christian teen romance, sweet romance, Christian fantasy stories, and non-fiction. None of them are space operas. Jill lives in Kentucky with her husband and youngest son. She has three adult children out there doing adult things like work and marriage. When she isn’t writing, she gardens and spoils her long-haired Chihuahua Sparrow, along with a few other cats and dogs. Recently she fulfilled her dream of moving to the country, although it has yet to be seen if this city mouse can become a country mouse or not.  

Book preview

One

NICHOLAS KYNGESTON GAZED AT HIMSELF in the looking glass and grimaced.

It’s what you asked for, Asheford said kindly, although the man was doing a poor job of hiding a smile.

I never asked for any of this, Nick replied. He sighed loudly and then wished he hadn’t. Drama wasn’t his forte. If he wanted drama, he could visit Cecily Evynwood. Except he could no longer visit Cecily. Now that their betrothal was official, they were barely allowed to see one another. It made no sense to Nicholas, but life had made little sense to Nicholas for more than a decade.

"The fashion is what you asked for," Asheford said, still kindly. Nick nodded, ashamed of taking out his mood on his father’s servant. His servant now, he thought. How odd to have a private servant. He’d been dressing himself for years. What was it about a man’s nineteenth birthday that suddenly made him unable to dress himself ever again?

I suppose, Nick said. I think I have no idea what I asked for.

I gather that, Asheford said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. I’ve often felt you have an old soul, Master Nicholas. Perhaps that should show up in your fashion.

Nick waited, not sure what to say to this. Asheford moved into the huge closet, a gift from his mother for his adult coronation, and returned with something simple, dark, and bland.

Yes, Nick said. That’s what I want. He looked back at his current outfit in the mirror. If Cecily sees me in this, she’ll fall over laughing.

Asheford hid another smile. I suspect you’re right about that.

Nick’s original outfit included bright green and lace. Perhaps those were the fashions on the mainland, but here on the island life was different. And Nick had no desire to set fashion trends or buck traditions. Many of his acquaintances did, but that wasn’t for him.

As Asheford had said, he had an old soul. His soul had gone ancient years ago as he’d watched his life sink beneath Lake Isabella, never to emerge again.

Once Asheford dressed him in simple black breeches, an ivory shirt without lace, and a black velvet overcoat, Nick looked at the glass again. Velvet? He hated clothes that had no purpose. Could a man chop wood or ride through the valley or saddle a horse in a velvet overcoat? No, he could not, and therefore the velvet overcoat had no business here.

Except he was turning nineteen, and that meant Nick wasn’t meant chop wood or saddle horses again. And riding was now formal and staid. He was supposed to become as useless as his clothing, and he hated that thought.

He looked at the mirror again, and the old pain hit hard. He should have had someone at his side, especially tonight. For years he’d felt it, the empty spot at his shoulder, and he wondered sometimes if Simon had become a ghost, hovering just out of sight, here to haunt on moments like these, moments when Nick faced something he didn’t want to do, something he shouldn’t have to face alone.

I was never meant to do this alone, he said to the image in the mirror.

Sir? Asheford asked.

Nothing. Nick licked his lips. Ah, I like it.

Very good, sir.

Nicholas Kyngeston sighed. At least tonight he would see Cecily. Perhaps they could find a quiet corner and laugh and tease, although he doubted that would happen. They would dance under the watchful eyes of two kingdoms, and tomorrow everyone would either sigh at the romance or complain about the expense of the ball. Nick personally agreed with the complainers. What was the purpose of a ball? What was the purpose of any of this? He wished more every day that he could trade places with the estate children. Attend a little school, help run the family farm, and otherwise be a child. Then marry quietly, bear a few children, and care for a small farm until the day he died.

He looked in the mirror one last time, shook his head, and headed downstairs. It was time for him to greet the kingdom as an adult. Master Nick was gone for good. He was now Lord Nicholas, the heir to the Kyngeston estate and one day lord of seventeen villages, five towns, and one port city.

It was supposed to be Simon, and on days like today he hated his twin for not being here to do his duties.

AS SHE STOOD IN A PARLOR off the main entrance of Nick’s house, waiting, Cecily Evynwood worried. She felt like she’d been waiting forever, and she wondered if he had actually run off. Would he do that? He hated affairs like this. The venom with which he hated them always surprised her. Although she would rather not attend dances and balls and celebrations, she certainly didn’t hate them. Why put so much anger into such a simple, short event? In a few hours it would be done.

But that was Nicholas. Easy to anger, but also quick to laugh. He had the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen, although he hid it more than used it, at least in the past few months. All the changes in his life were taking a toll, and now they’d been separated. Did nobody understand Nick at all? The man wasn’t meant to separated. He’d been born a pair, and he should have stayed that way. For years she’d filled some of the hole in his life, their friendship forged in hardship and tears. Now that he needed her most, as he stepped into a life that wasn’t supposed to be his, he needed her friendship more than her betrothal, but here she stood, a doll in a parlor, so overdressed she could barely move, constantly separated from the man she loved.

If you don’t show up tonight, Nick, I’ll kill you, she growled as she shifted and nearly knocked a vase off a low table. Whose stupid idea was the wide skirts, anyway? What if she fell over during a dance? Except maybe that wasn’t possible. This dress would stand up without her inside, so likely it would hold her up during a dance.

The door opened, and she spun and smiled, because he was here. Nicholas Kyngeston, her dearest friend and now the man of her future, stood in the doorway, and he was beautiful. Angry and sad, but still beautiful.

Cecily, he said. His eyes widened, and he smiled. You look beautiful. And uncomfortable.

She couldn’t help but giggle. You’ll steady me tonight, right? Because if I start to fall, this dress might take me straight to the floor.

That got a smile, a rare Nicky treat. He winged his arm, and she took hold.

Your mother is beside herself, Nick. What took you so long?

That’s Lord Nicholas to you, he said in a stern voice, his lips twitching in a smile. So help me, Cecily, if you call me Lord Nicholas, I’ll laugh. Papa will kill me. Anyway, I had to change clothes. Asheford tried to put me in green with lace. Bright green. Big, droopy lace. It was ghastly.

Cecily nodded. You look very good, Nick. Handsome. Fearsome, the way a future king should look. The girls will swoon. But you should smile.

He glared at her. It shouldn’t be me, Cecily. It shouldn’t be. Tonight it feels so wrong. How can it still feel so wrong?

She put both hands around his forearm and leaned on his shoulder. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t understand why TrueGod took him, Nick, but he didn’t take you. You’re meant to be here. Tonight we can remember him, but he can’t help us. You have to do this, and I’m here to help you.

You always help me, he said quietly. Thank you, Cecily Evynwood. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. The only good thing about losing him is gaining you. And tonight that hurts, too.

Don’t, she whispered. She was meant to wed the heir, and it shouldn’t be Nick. She hated that she felt the same. If Simon were here, then Nick wouldn’t be her betrothed. She missed Simon, too, but she was also ashamed that his loss meant such a huge gain in her life.

Because Cecily wouldn’t have loved Simon. He’d been her friend. He’d been a kind soul and a dear boy, but even as a child she’d lost her heart to Nicholas and not his older twin brother. If he’d lived, she’d have mourned in her marriage for her whole life.

And so part of her was glad he was gone, and tonight that part made her feel like a monster. Maybe she was a monster.

Cecily? Nick asked, patting her hand before they left the room. Are you well? Is the dress squeezing the life out of you?

She tried to laugh, but her voice caught. Nick, I miss him, too, but if he was here... How can I say I miss him when I’m glad I ended up with you? What does that make me?

If he was here, he’d have found a way to make it right, Nick said. That’s what Simon did. You would still be marrying me, but he would be at our sides, laughing and smiling and being Simon.

She closed her eyes. Yes. He would be. He would be happy for us, right?

He would be. Of course he would be. It happened the way it had to happen. And now, we have to walk out there and let the kingdoms make a big fuss over me. Please don’t let me turn down the hall in the other direction. All day I’ve mentally planned an escape. We’ll hide in the forest and build our own house and grow our own food, and nobody will ever find us.

She squeezed his arm. I’m here, Lord Nicholas. I’ll always be here for you.

He glared at her and then kissed her nose. And with that, they headed to the ball.

CECILY AND HER CHAPERONE HAD AN UNDERSTANDING. They’d had it for years, and because of that Cecily was away from the house just before dawn, running through the dim fields to the forest, both fearful and hopeful, her long, dark cloak swishing around her as she moved through worn, familiar trails. Out of breath, she stopped at the edge of the lake and stared. TrueGod, she silently prayed. I was in time. Don’t let this be what it looks like. Don’t let last night take the very last good thing in my life away.

When her breathing slowed and her heart stopped pounding, she approached Nick and carefully sat on the rock at his side. He stared into the water, not turning to see her, although his hand slipped out from beneath his own cloak to grip her fingers.

Nicholas, she said quietly. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she said nothing more. She had no idea what to say.

I’m okay, he said. It was a lie. But for days now he’d lied almost constantly. I don’t remember what he sounded like. I barely remember what he looked like, just a few paintings Mother had done.

It doesn’t matter, she said. You remember that you loved him. That I loved him. And he loved us, too.

Nick shrugged. But we failed him.

Cecily sighed. The fear that had caused her to race here alone in the dark left her exhausted, too exhausted to deal with Nick’s pain.

I’m sorry, he said. What a maudlin thing to say, especially now.

What do you mean, especially now?

He sighed. I mean they think I have everything I ever wanted. They envy me. Some of them hate me. You heard that, didn’t you? Last night some of them made it very clear how they felt about the younger son taking the role of the heir.

People will be people, Cecily said quietly. I did hear, Nick. But I also heard some say wonderful things about you. The girls swoon over you. The young men find you approachable. The women still grieve with you. You are a broken vessel worthy of the deepest pity and care.

Nick smiled at that. A broken vessel. Those who blame me are mostly old, I guess. Haven’t most old people suffered loss? How could they not understand how I feel?

People are people, she said again.

I’m supposed to rule them one day. It’s difficult when I’d rather hate them.

You didn’t do anything wrong. It was an accident. Everyone who matters knows that. Everyone close to you understands.

He squeezed her hand. You ran out here. What did you expect to find?

She looked at the water, as he had done, and she saw it again, Simon flailing, sinking away from them, the look of terror in his eyes. Only now that image wore Nick’s face.

I won’t, he said into her silence. You think I’ll follow him down. I won’t. For all the pain I still feel, for all the exhaustion and anger, I’m still too big a coward to follow him down to the abyss. I always have been.

She wanted to slap him. She sat up and rethought that and did slap him, hard, on the shoulder.

How is it cowardly to live? To fulfill your role to your father, to your kingdom, to me? You would even consider leaving me? And then think that a brave choice? If you’re not careful I’ll push you in myself.

Nick’s eyes widened. I didn’t mean it like... I don’t know what I meant.

You meant that it still hurts, and you feel like you should be able to heal it. I doubt following him is what TrueGod intends for you. Do you talk to the god anymore, Nick? Once you did. Once we did together. Then your mother began to plan the ball, and everything fell apart. I’m not sure I understand why.

It’s been a long time since his shadow fell over us, Nick said. For years I’ve lived as me. I knew what was coming, that one day I’d step into his shoes, but that day was in the future. I could pretend the future would never happen. But when Mama planned my adult coronation ball, it was his. I was taking his party. I was taking his life again. I don’t want it. I never wanted it. Whatever the old ladies say about it, I didn’t push my brother into the abyss to take his kingdom.

Nick was angry, and Cecily was glad to hear it. Anything other than the dark, brooding pain was a relief.

Now I understand, she said quietly. Will you ache at our wedding? That was to be his, too.

His eyes widened again. No. I will cry for him. I almost guarantee that. But no, I’m glad in this one instance that I have his life.

She wasn’t sure that was true. Yes, he was glad. He loved her. He’d always loved her, from their time as children. But he would ache at their wedding. He couldn’t help it. And she loved him for it, for the depth of his feelings. His papa had shut his heart away after losing his son. Nick could have let his pain do the same to him, but he hadn’t.

I liked dancing with you, Cecily said. I liked watching you dance with all the ladies.

He laughed. You did not. You were jealous.

She giggled. Not much. You looked miserable a few times. I wished I could have perched on your shoulder as a butterfly and heard what they whispered in your ear while you danced.

I wish you could have, too. You wouldn’t believe some of them. A few hoped I would leave you—and my parents’ wishes—and take them, instead. A few of the older ones thought they might teach me bed sport before my wedding so I would come to you with experience. A few told me jokes. That surprised me more than anything. They said it helped ease the awkwardness of having to dance the night away with strangers. I was very thankful for those.

Cecily smiled and pressed harder against his shoulder. Bed sport?

Nick shrugged. Their words, not mine. I won’t take them up on it.

I didn’t think you would.

Widows. A few widows out there are very... They are very bold. He blushed when he said it, which she found adorable.

They are wrong, Cecily said. They mock something the god made sacred.

Not everyone feels that way, Nick said. Our parents let people think what they will about the gods, so some of them will go wrong.

When you rule, will you let people think what they want of the gods?

Yes, he said. I will lead by example and follow TrueGod. But to force allegiance to a god—that can’t go well.

It warmed her heart to know he thought about leading and not just running away.

The sound of someone crunching through the underbrush didn’t surprise her, and both she and Nick turned to see Ava approaching, her face split in a smile.

Ah, my children, the older woman said. Continue as you were. I need to settle my breath before we go back. I hope nobody saw you, Lady Cecily. I’m too old to find a new post.

I’m nineteen years old, Cecily said. If you lose your post, I now have the ability to hire you myself, and I will.

Just stay out of trouble, Ava said, sitting against a tree trunk many feet away. For a woman in her sixties, she moved well. I am lax with you because I trust you. Please don’t abuse that.

I never have, Ava, Cecily said.

Nor have I, Nick said. I’m honored you give it to us. I’ll do nothing to discourage it.

Ava clicked her lips. You have too much charm, Lord Nick. How was the dance?

Nick sighed. Interminable.

Ava chuckled. May I have specifics?

Some of them think I did it. They think I murdered my brother for the crown. The crown I’d almost rather die than wear. Not only that, but I murdered him when I was eight years old.

Well, at least the widows weren’t propositioning you, Ava said. Cecily laughed.

They did that, too, she said.

People never change, Ava said. Well, now it’s over. A young heir only gets one coming of age ball, and it’s finished. Now on to the wedding.

I talked Mama into keeping it small, Nick said. I let her go all out for the ball, but the wedding will be small. Those who hate me won’t be present.

They don’t hate you, Ava said. They just like to hear their voices. They like drama and tall tales. They don’t think about you at all, just the role you play. It’s always about the role you play.

They didn’t stay much longer in the forest. When they left, Nick separated from them to head to the stable, and Cecily walked slowly with Ava toward the guest wing, one arm under her elbow to steady her. Since just after the betrothal she’d stayed here in Nick’s estate, where she wasn’t supposed to spend time alone with him. A fire in her own family’s estate had driven her family to nearby friends and family until their manor house could be made right again. Cecily liked living here, especially since Ava let her break the rules every few days.

He’s stepped backward, Cecily said quietly. I ran to find him this morning, fearing... I feared for him. Last night he was distraught when I left him, angry and weepy and...

Ava patted her arm. This is what he dreaded, suddenly playing the role of his brother.

That’s what he said.

But you will marry him, and he will learn at his father’s side, and you will bear him delightful children, and he will let Simon slide back to the cellar of his mind where he belongs. Your Nicholas is strong, Cecily. He has no idea, but he will see. I fear it won’t be easy, not with the role he has, but I’m sure he’ll discover he’s more than he ever expected he could be.

Cecily knew this was true, but that didn’t mean it would be easy. Once they married his pain would be hers.

No, she thought. Not once they were married. His pain had been hers for their entire lives, and hers had been his. In their eighth year they’d grown up and witnessed things children shouldn’t witness, and it had changed both of them forever.

With a sigh she hoped marriage would help him to cope. And her. Because Simon had been flailing in the depths of their minds and souls for a decade, and she hated to think he would continue to do so for the rest of their lives.

Two

NICHOLAS WANDERED INTO THE STABLE, where Gavin the stable master bowed and called him Lord Nicholas. He rolled his eyes.

When nobody is here, do you have to call me that? Nick asked. At least make it Lord Nick if simple Nick is too difficult. Cecily’s chaperone calls me Lord Nick. I like it.

Gavin was nearly Ava’s age, and he smiled, exposing two missing teeth. I can try, sir, but it’s not right.

Nothing about Nick’s life was right, but he didn’t say that.

Can I ride this morning? Nick asked. I’m hiding from the Lord and Lady.

Gavin smiled. So the ball didn’t go well?

I think it was exactly what my mother wanted. Loud, hot, filled with important people. Now I want to ride until all of it slides off.

Gavin gestured Nick to wander the barn while he retrieved his horse, and Nick smiled. The heir wasn’t supposed to muck around in the barn, but Gavin wasn’t much for propriety. Even Nick’s father spent time with the horses. His papa liked the trappings of wealth and power, but he still did enough with his hands, still spent enough time with the people, that he was liked and respected throughout the kingdom. Lord Steven, Cecily’s father, intimidated his people, being a large man with dark eyes and a piercing stare, but he was a kind man in person. And then there were the mothers. His mother was a perfect lady of the manor, never bending rules, and Cecily’s mother felt rules and propriety existed for the sole purpose of being broken.

A young man walked out of the barn with Lance in tow, Gavin walking behind him. Nick tilted his head, because this stable boy was new. And older than most, he thought, but maybe not. Age was hard to tell among the people, since some had difficult lives and aged before their time.

Lord Nicholas, this is Anselm, my new boy. He wandered up last night, and I gave him a place until he found his feet. I assume you don’t mind him working with Lance?

Nick shrugged. It’s your stable, Gavin. I trust your judgment.

Lord Nicholas, the man said with a slight bow. Lance is ready for ye.

The man had an accent Nicholas didn’t recognize, meaning he was here from the mainland. Not many people relocated here from the mainland, so this boy had a story. Nicholas couldn’t remember the last time he’d found someone with a story. Those in his world were privileged, spoiled, or just plain dull, and this boy with his accent sparked some curiosity.

Thank you, Nick said. Saddle up and ride with me. You’re new?

The man’s eyes widened. He might be from the mainland, but he wasn’t foreign in the face. His skin was medium like most on the island, his hair light brown, his eyes the same. The island had long ago been inhabited by a mix of pale, northern Boreal people and darker Agridores, and the result had been a people with medium fairness, medium darkness, medium size, medium everything. People on the nearby mainland teased that those on the island were the plainest people on Balia.

Aye, sir, the man said. Ye don’t want yer groom? Yer friends, perhaps?

Nick shrugged. I can ask anyone I wish to ride with me. We had a big, ridiculous ball here last night to prove it. Today I want the newest stable boy to ride out with me. Why is this a problem?

Anselm grinned, something few did when speaking with the kingdom’s heir. A problem it ain’t. Gavin? Who should I ride?

Nick was surprised when Gavin put Anselm on Butterfly, Cecily’s favorite mount here at his estate, because she wasn’t an easy horse. She had spirit. Gavin’s new stable boy must have quite the skill with horses to find himself so quickly in the old man’s trust.

Before long they rode out, crossing onto country roads through the estate, away from the villages.

When did you arrive at the island? Nick asked. Anselm tilted his head.

I was told to be silent, he said. I was told a groom kept back and kept his mouth shut. This ain’t a trick to get rid of me?

Nick laughed. No. I had a terrible night last night. Today hasn’t been amazing so far, and learning your history takes my mind off myself. I’ve gotten selfish of late, I suppose. I’m not proud of that.

Anselm tilted his head again. I came over two days ago.

Most foreigners don’t come to our shores, although you sound more foreign than you look. What brought you here?

Anselm paused, his brow pulled down. Have ye ever just known ye need a change? Me parents were older, and they passed. Papa was a vicar, so his home wasn’t his own. With him gone, I had no place to go, and I found me self at the dock with naught but a bag on me back and wearing shoes with a hole. The first ship that would let me work for me supper and passage was on its way here, so I here I be.

Nick nodded. I like that story. Some days I wish I had the courage to run away from my life, too.

Not sure it takes courage, Anselm said with a grin. An empty belly trumps a lot of fear.

I’m sorry you found yourself in that position, Nick said. Anselm didn’t seem to mind sharing his situation, but Nick knew it was unkind for wealthy, privileged men to pry sad stories out of those with less.

Twasn’t so bad, Anselm said. I miss m’ family, but it’s freeing having no specific place to be. Speaking of places to be, I hear ye had a party last night, and it was the place to be. The maids talked of dresses and dances and swooned with the romance of it all. I hear ye became an heir.

Nick shook his head. Although he could interrogate Anselm, that didn’t go both ways, but he suspected this young man knew nothing whatsoever of propriety here on the island.

Apologies, Anselm said. I though nobles liked it when they got closer to their fated positions. What’s not to like about leading a kingdom? Beats cleaning mouse droppings off a boat for a bite to eat.

Nick heard a note of bitterness there, and he felt defensive and angry. However, he knew better than to share such sentiments with the help. He had brought Anselm to be a distraction, not as a confidant.

They rode on in silence past two small farms, Nick keeping an eye on the farms and fields as they passed. One day he would be responsible for these small farms and the villages between them. The fate of the whole area would rest on his decisions. Now that he had been named the heir, it felt much more real. His father was in good health, but if a horse threw him or he ate bad food and left this mortal coil, Nick could find himself leading at any time.

The thought made him feel sick.

The maids talked about a betrothal, Anselm said into the silence. Nick grinned. Clearly this man had never been in service before. Learning to hold one’s tongue and not ask questions was one of the first lessons even the youngest house servants learned.

Yes, Nick said. He offered nothing more, wondering if Anselm was capable of leaving the subject alone. He suspected there would be no long silences with this rider at his side.

Is she pretty? Anselm asked.

Remember what you were told? Nick asked. About a groom and his mouth?

Anselm’s eyes widened, and he placed his palm over his lips. Apologies.

Nick laughed. She’s beautiful. Lady Cecily is the bright spot in an otherwise dark life.

So it ain’t an arranged marriage? Anselm asked. I heard nobles sometimes do that. What if a man discovers his betrothed is horrible? How do the nobles handle having someone else plan such a huge part of their lives?

Nick glared Anselm into silence, and the man hung his head and let his horse fall behind. Butterfly hated to be behind, though, and soon she had inched forward, again walking shoulder to shoulder with Nick’s mount Lance.

The marriage was indeed arranged, Nick said, taking pity on this man who knew nothing of the island or the position in which he currently found himself. And those who find they don’t suit sometimes break their betrothals. Sometimes they simply make due. Tenderness can happen in strange situations. Sometimes one or the other is unfaithful. That never goes well. But Lady Cecily and I suit. In last night’s nightmare of a party, dancing with her in my arms was the best part.

So the maids said, Anselm said. I shouldn’t say that, should I?

I suspect you can’t be silent. And you have no understanding of life on a noble estate on Caperton Island.

That I don’t doubt, Anselm said. I thought I would be mucking stalls and fixing fences. Don’t know much about pretty talk and saying the right thing.

Most stable boys stay in the stable and never have to speak pretty words.

Anselm stayed silent for a long while after that. When he spoke, he spoke with great hesitation. Then why am I here?

We don’t get many foreigners. I guess I was curious.

That won Nick a bright smile. He got the feeling this man who had no home, no goals, and shoes with holes might be more content in his life than Nick himself, and that bothered him.

They wandered a rarely-used path, Nick paying almost no attention as he and Anselm chatted about life off the island, and then Nick stopped as he realized where he was. Anselm didn’t realize this right away, and he looked behind him.

What is it?

Nick shook his head. Ah, nothing.

Anselm didn’t believe that, and he looked around. They were in the forest near the guest wing, out of sight of the mansion but close enough that he, Simon, and Cecily had played here. In a few steps they would come upon a ruin Nick had no desire to see. Just imagining it turned his stomach.

Come on, he said, turning the horse around. Anselm paused, looking ahead and then back at Nick.

What’s there? Anselm asked. There’s a secret that whirls around ye, Lord Nicholas. Something down this path speaks to that secret, don’t it? I have secrets, too, except they’re secret from me as well.

Nick shook his head. What?

Memories. The young man pointed to his head. I’m missing a few. A lot, in fact.

What? Nick asked again. Anselm had the ability to render him speechless. He found this conversation fascinating, because nobody ever rendered him speechless. Except for Cecily and Gavin, almost nobody talked to him about real things, worrying about offending the heir.

Anselm put his palm behind his ear and rubbed his head. Don’t know, but this was bleeding. Don’t remember anything before it. Not family, home, nothing.

How old were you?

Maybe six? Eight? Nobody rightly knows. Didn’t wake up with papers, ye know? Just bleeding.

Nick winced. Who took care of you?

Anselm smiled. Nice folk. Took me in, took care of me. Family. Maybe not by blood, but close enough.

And you just lost them. I’m sorry.

Anselm shook his head. They lived a good long time. No crying over lives lived long and well, right? Me mum passed first, two years ago, and then papa recently.

Not sure what to say to this, Nick realized Anselm had started to move, and Nick was following. They were now within sight of the overgrown wall and gate, and Nick closed his eyes as though that would keep memories at bay.

We can’t be here, Nick said firmly. This garden is locked up, and it stays that way.

Anselm trotted Butterfly through the brush to the gate. He peered in, although vines and weeds covered it completely. Garden? A locked garden? Who locks a garden?

Nick growled and turned the horse, refusing to look at the stone walls. We’re leaving, Anselm. If you wish for a position tomorrow, you’ll come along and not come back here. And we won’t speak of this again.

Not sure threats would work on the man, Nick turned and found Anselm leaning forward on Butterfly and touching the gate. He ran his hand over one of the bars, stopping to pick a morning glory off a wild vine. He turned to Nick and shook his head.

It’s beautiful, Anselm said, his accent thick with unknown emotion. And haunted. Is it haunted, Lord Nicholas? Is that what I feel?

Nick let out his breath. I don’t know. What do you feel?

Anselm put his hand on his chest and clutched at his tunic. Here. Something in here. Tight and old and... something.

Maybe it is haunted, Nick said quietly. Hadn’t Cecily and Simon often suggested the same thing? But that haunting had drawn Simon here day after day, a fairy tale world alive in their heads. Nick had never been one for fairy tales, and now he regretted that. How hard