Page 6 of For the Love of the Quest

Thomasin shoved the past from her thoughts with another long drink, the rum burning her throat. She barged into her second-in-command’s quarters with a well-placed kick to the door. He jolted from where he lay on the bed.

“Napping in the middle of the day?” Thomasin barked. Better to start him off on the defensive.

It didn’t last long. The further Thomasin got into explaining Edith’s plan, the more she found herself being the defensive one.

“You can’t possibly think it’s smart to galavant across the country on a treasure hunt right now! The Metropolitan Police have it in for you. You finally pushed them too far, and now you want to do this? It’s not like the old days of the constabulary. The Metropolitan are well organized, well funded, and well connected. It’s going to take a lot more than a bag of gold and a few favors to get them to turn a blind eye.” He drew out each word, speaking to her as if she were unbelievably stupid. “We’re this close from having to flee England, and instead of conserving resources and making a plan, you want to waste our time on some hysterical girl’s fairy tale? If we don’t figure out how to deal with the chief inspector soon, we’re all dead.”

Thomasin stepped closer, forcing him to stumble back against the bed. “You overstep.”

His chin dipped in deference, but his eyes remained hard. “I apologize, but we have absolutely no room for mistakes right now, and that’s what this would be.”

“No.” Thomasin drew a dagger from the strap across her bicep. She pressed the length of it to his stubbled neck and pushed until he had no choice but to fall onto the mattress. She towered over him now. “This is not a mistake. It’s a plan. A plan to make so much money all our problems will disappear.”

“Please don’t tell me you believe in treasure,” he whined, his face screwing up with condescending pity.

Thomasin smiled. Her life had spiraled out of her control in more ways than one. Even when everything was going well, she was still miserable. Something had to change, and there was only one thing in this world powerful enough to alter someone’s fate. “No, I don’t believe in treasure. But I do believe in ransom money.”

Chapter Three

Edith brushed the dust from the nightstand with the edge of her sleeve and set her grandmother’s urn down delicately. The finely crafted urn looked wrong among the squalor of the guest room. But this was what her grandmother had always wanted—adventure. And adventure certainly didn’t happen in fancy tea rooms with lace doilies and impeccably shined floors. Even the urn itself was a rebellion. Her grandmother, Eulalia Camborne Darling, had found a way to piss off society from beyond the grave—or urn, rather. The thought made Edith smile fondly. A coffin, a burial, a shiny headstone, those were the things that were expected. But her grandmother had said that the idea of her body rotting for eternity made her sick, and so she had put a clause in her will that said if she wasn’t cremated, then all her money was to be donated to the poor. Of course, Edith’s father couldn’t stand to see his inheritance go to those who actually needed it, and had thus chosen the lesser evil of respecting his mother’s wishes.

As Edith inspected the paper-thin mattress for bugs, she thought of all the hours she had spent with her grandmother in the pristine rooms of their family’s manor. The two had always beenclose, her grandmother being the one to encourage her love of books and history. But after her older brother, Jonathan, had become more interested in affairs of business than family, and her younger sister, Marigold, had fallen in love and became more interested in her brand-new family, Edith’s grandmother became the only person who hadn’t left her.

Her parents were still around, but they never seemed to care too much for Edith. They loved her, of course, but they preferred her personality in small doses. It was her siblings that Edith thought of when she thought of family, and their grandmother had taught them all that family should be the most important thing in one’s life. As the three had entered adulthood, everyone but Edith seemed to outgrow that notion. She didn’t blame them. It was what one was supposed to do. She was even pleased for them, that they had found things to make them happy. But it wasn’t easy being the one who sat at home waiting for the others to have time for her.

She remembered sitting on the sofa, curled into her grandmother’s side on the eve of Marigold’s wedding. Edith couldn’t stop crying over the prospect of Marigold moving away.

“Why would she want to leave?” Edith asked. “We’re so happy here.”

Her grandmother stroked her hair. “She’s found her adventure. It’s time for her to create her own happiness in the world.”

“First Jonathan, now Marigold. Why am I the only one who cares about keeping things how they are?”

“It’s not that they don’t care about you, they’ve just found a future that makes them happier than their past does.”

Edith sniffled, and her grandmother handed her a satin handkerchief. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. You’ll find your happiest place.”

“This is my happiest place, and everyone is leaving it.” Every now and then the loneliness became too much to bear. She had noone in her life except her family, the people who had no choice but to be around her, to love her. No one had ever chosen to love Edith.

“Hush now, that’s not fair. They’re just moving a little faster than you, that’s all.”

“I don’t want to move at all. Like I said, I’m happy.”

“Safe and happy are not the same.”

“Well, they’re also not mutually exclusive,” Edith grumbled.

Her grandmother pulled back to look her sternly in the eyes. “What about the quest?”

Edith swallowed thickly, her pulse ticking up at the mention of the quest. “What about it?”

“We’ve spent years planning our adventure, and you’re just as excited about it as I am. You do realize you’ll have to leave the house in order for us to find Excalibur?” Her voice was teasing, but there was a hint of censure behind it.

Edith loved nothing more than spending the days hunched over old texts and illustrations depicting King Arthur, the wizard Merlin, and the ethereal Lady of the Lake, but the thought of disrupting the comfort of her daily routine was too scary. “I’m just not ready yet,” she said. “We still have more planning to do before we can depart.”

Her grandmother kissed her firmly on the temple. “Well, when you’re ready, you know where to find me.”

Edith plopped down on her mercifully bug-free bed. She did know where to find her grandmother. She was right in that urn, where she always would be now. She stood abruptly, forcing away her grief-addled remembrances. There was no use in dwelling on the depressing. Not when there was adventure to be had.