Wearing a full black face mask and a matching cloak, Wyatt followed the guards to the front gate. "Who's this?" asked an inspector, while checking Pete and Matthew's identification cards; these were the two guards whom Wyatt had gotten on her side with money. Wyatt carried a bag on one shoulder with the previous owner's paint supplies.
She found it a bit odd that they both used painting to relieve stress and were somewhat talented. Perhaps there was a thread of faith connecting them. Maybe she was here for a reason.
Referring to Wyatt, Pete answered the inspector, "He's a friend from my village. He got burned by hot water when he was little, so he doesn't like showing his face to others."
Wyatt bowed her head, appearing solemn and detached.
Pete continued, "He's visiting us for the weekend, and then he'll head back home."
The inspector nodded slightly. "On your way then."
Before Wyatt could leave the compound, one of the guard captains close to Grant stopped them. He walked over from the north side of the building, twelve men following behind him. Captain Elias was tall with tan skin and short black hair shaved on the sides. He nodded at Wyatt and told the guards he had brought with him. "Have that one push his hood back and remove his mask."
Wyatt wished she could melt into the ground. How could she get caught so soon?
Had her luck been eaten?
Pete said, "Sir, with all due respect, this is a friend of ours from the village. He doesn't like showing people his face because of a nasty scar."
Captain Elias drew his sword. The moonlight scattered across the silver blade. He told the guards Wyatt had chosen, "The two of you can go; you have been dismissed. There's no need to return tomorrow."
Matthew's jaw nearly dropped to the ground. "Sir, I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. He threatened us. We had no choice in the matter. Please don't get rid of us; how will I take care of my family if I lose this job?"
Captain Elias motioned to the men behind him. "Walk them out." Five soldiers drew their blades and strode towards Matthew and Pete with grim visages.
Matthew pointed a shaking finger at Wyatt. "Y-you set us up. I hope you burn."
Wyatt shrugged. She had no idea why she got caught so soon, but every man should be held responsible for his own actions. She wasn't responsible for their shortcomings.
The soldiers accompanying Captain Elias walked Matthew and Pete out, and their noisy protests faded. Elias walked over to Wyatt, light from a torch illuminating his golden eyes, which had a humorous spark. "Now, young lord, will you go back to your room on your own, or do you need my assistance?"
With the blade pointed at her, Wyatt had no choice but to obey and return to her quarters.
*
Inside the guest bedroom, Wyatt found her brother waiting by the study desk. He flipped through some of the sketches she had left. "You're not bad. Who taught you?"
"A woman." It wasn't a lie. While moving west during the apocalypse in the other world, Wyatt's group had taken in an artist, with whom Wyatt had enjoyed a brief relationship. Sarah used to like painting on Wyatt's stomach after their nightly activities, and Wyatt, enchanted by the swirls and colours, asked Sarah to teach her a few tricks.
Wyatt's fingers tightened into a fist as she remembered how Dios had sent Sarah and twenty other innocent people to their deaths. They were used to distract the monsters, while the rest of the group gathered treasures.
Wyatt had been away at the time, helping another group recover after an attack. When she returned and heard the news, it broke her. She remembered the woman's laugh as if it were yesterday.
Back in the present, Grant asked Elias to leave, and the door closed gently.
Grant walked over to Wyatt, bringing a sweet, woodsy fragrance with him. His rough fingers brushed Wyatt's cheek before settling on her lips. "Something about you has changed." Grant's thumb tugged Wyatt's bottom lip, revealing the teeth underneath. "Be good, and I'll look after you." His breath warmed Wyatt's ear. As Grant pulled his hand back, Wyatt glimpsed a ring similar to hers on his index finger, and a shiver ran through her.
Her heart beat against her chest.
Was this still her brother?
Making no effort to hide his ring, Grant whispered, "Goodnight," and left the room.
Wyatt pondered telling the duke his son might have been swapped with someone else. But how long ago? How far had he infiltrated? Those who worked in the manor respected Grant more than the marquess because his abilities were stronger. If Wyatt squealed, how did she know? Should she reveal her ring? That wouldn't end in her favour. She sighed; it seemed like she and the imposter Grant were stuck in their lies together.
As for the duke's lost son, well, it had nothing to do with her.
*