Dragonfly Maid

had not been a coincidence, either.
Had I nearly met my own untimely end out there?
A wave of nausea washed over me. I clenched my eyes against the pain, but the instant I did, I could see them again. Those strange menacing eyes.
My own eyes shot open again, and my dragonfly was in front of me, hovering not more than a foot from my nose. At last she’d come. I would have hugged her if I could.
“Did you see what happened last night?”
She circled, then paused, waiting until I offered her a finger perch.
“You were there. You must have seen something.”
She skipped forward over my knuckle and back. After a moment she repeated the dance.
“I know I shouldn’t be out here, but I have to know.”
She was pretending not to catch my meaning or ignoring it, so we trudged on in strained silence. As we turned from the garden path to a lane that wrapped inside the upper ward Quadrangle, I wanted to yell at her, even as I sensed her irritation with me.
“No, I won’t go back, not until you—”
“Who are you talking to?”
I whipped around and nearly lost my balance. Mr. Wyck stood behind me, his fists shoved in his front pockets, his jaw set in a hard, inscrutable line.
The fear of being caught talking to my dragonfly paled against the realization that once again I was alone with a person who was quite likely a killer.
“Are you following me?” My voice cracked. I cursed myself for not mustering more courage. He wouldn’t dare do anything to me in broad daylight, would he? He couldn’t be that bold. But still, where were the castle guards? Even my dragonfly had already fled. Realizing that, I lowered my hand to my side as casually as I could and tried not to give in to the terror taking hold.
Mr. Wyck kicked at the dirt in front of him with something like a smirk on his face. “I’m not following anybody. I like to take in the morning air over here when I can. It’s better than the stable smell, if you know what I mean. But I’m sure I heard you talking to someone.”
“Sometimes I talk to myself,” I said. “When I think I’m alone.” I gave him a spiteful look in case he didn’t catch my not-so-subtle meaning.
His lips curled, but I wouldn’t call it a smile. He didn’t believe me, I could see that. But I didn’t care. I just wanted him to go away.
As the seconds ticked by, it became clear that he didn’t intend to go anywhere. He simply watched me.
I inched toward the lane, back to the kitchen and to safety. “If you’ll excuse me then, I should be getting back inside.” Silently I begged my dragonfly to follow so we might finish our conversation.
Behind me, I heard the scuff of his footsteps following mine.
My heart beat quickened.
“I’m glad to see you’re up and around,” he said, matching my pace. “I wasn’t sure you would be after last night’s ordeal.”
A cold shudder shot through me, but I forced myself to stand straighter and return his glare. “I certainly fared better than the poor girl they found on the Slopes this morning.”
He blanched. “What girl?”
Was he pretending to be surprised? Or was he just surprised I knew?
“The farmer’s girl. The one who died.” Saying it aloud gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach again. It still hardly seemed possible.
The way his eyes rounded with horror, he thought so, too.
“Died? How?”
“How should I know?” If he was lying, he was doing a good job of it. He fell back a step and stared at the ground.
“Didn’t you know?” I watched him closely, searching for a crack in his charade.
But he was good. He pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through the mess of his hair. His gaze drifted to the far side of the Quadrangle. “That must have been what they were doing,” he mumbled.
“What who was doing?”
His gaze snapped back to me. “What?”
“You said ‘That’s what they were doing.’ Who?”
He scowled and waved me off. “It doesn’t matter.”
I wanted to grab his dusty twill jacket by the lapels and shake him, but I feared it would only make him laugh. “It matters to me,” I said instead. “A great deal, in fact.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “Have you ever been on the Slopes before last night?”
“I have.” Of course I hadn’t but that was none of his business.
“Mrs. Crossey allows it?”
“She doesn’t have to,” I shot back. “Why should she? But what about you, Mr. Wyck? What were you doing on the Slopes?”
He stared at me without blinking for a long moment. “Are you implying I had something to do with that girl?”
Before I could answer, the sound of a conversation coming from the other side of the gate stopped me. Without warning, Mr. Wyck pressed his finger to his lips and pressed himself up against the wall so he wouldn’t be seen by those coming through.
“What are you—”
He stopped me with a more forceful press of his finger against his lips. He mouthed, “Listen.”
I huffed. Who was he to order me about? But I joined him at the wall and leaned forward to listen just the same.
“We’ve done all we can for the lass,” a man said. “She’s in the Lord’s hands now.”
“Indeed,” intoned a voice that struck me like a lightning bolt. It was Mr. MacDougall.
“Sure you want me to drop you off here, sir? It’s quite a walk, and you’d be understandably weary after dealing with such a nasty business. If you don’t mind me saying so, the Constable should have shown more respect. We practically did his job for him, yeah? Collecting her like that instead of leaving her to the elements.”
“Yes, well,” Mr. MacDougall said, “the Constable did have a point. Perhaps I was too hasty in my efforts to protect the Queen. I should have more carefully considered the impediment to the investigation.”
“What’s to investigate? If