A Stop-and-Search, a Scuffed Bumper, and a Plan

This time, it was Cecilia who couldn't hide her astonishment.

Her congestion-rattled coughing had left her face a touch pale. "Y-you were a soldier?"

"Yes. I graduated from the Royal Oaktree Military Academy. I've since retired for personal reasons."

She'd been telling everyone who asked about Arkan's line of work that her husband was a retired soldier — a lie, she'd assumed. And now it turned out he really *was* a retired soldier!

Good heavens — and the Royal Oaktree Military Academy, of all places. What were the odds of such a coincidence?

Cecilia quickly turned her gaze forward to hide her fluster. She'd heard that Davion had graduated from the same academy. They looked to be around the same age, too — wasn't it possible the two of them knew each other?

"I-is it possible you might know my husband...?"

Having steadied himself properly on his crutches, Arkan limped along with a soft laugh. "Don't worry. I doubt it. I was closer to being a commander, you see."

No, come to think of it, Davion would have been a commander as well.

But Cecilia held her tongue. She decided to steer the conversation elsewhere before any more questions about her husband could surface.

"You must not be from an ordinary family either, Mr. Arkan. As I understand it, commoners can't easily get into officer academies."

"It's true mine isn't what you'd call an ordinary family — I'm an illegitimate child of the government, actually. It gave me quite a bit of heartache, back in the day. If it weren't for my younger sister, I never would have survived that household."

There was no trace of an inferiority complex in the way he explained his circumstances. Arkan came across as a man who had already conquered some great trial — or perhaps something even harsher, a trial so severe that questions of birth had simply ceased to matter.

"Then your sister, is she also—"

"A half-sister. She grew up loved by our parents. A real blessing, that."

"She must be happy, having a brother like you."

"Who's to say? She's weathered more than her fair share of storms in her own way... Ah — this is a secret, but I took a wound in the war, and the fingers on my right hand don't move so well anymore."

Arkan raised his right hand in confession. Just as he said, something had gone wrong with the peripheral nerves — even with his fist clenched, his little finger jutted out stiffly on its own.

He never complained, so she'd never known. Cecilia found herself absently touching her left ear, then worked up the courage to speak. "Um, actually, I too—"

"Forgive me, but we'll need to run a quick check."

A police officer, whom she'd taken for a parking warden, had suddenly called them over from the side of the boulevard.

Arkan wrapped his free arm around Cecilia's shoulders and drew her close. She didn't panic. For all her grousing about him moments before, she couldn't help thinking how fortunate she was to have him with her.

The officer flinched at the sight of Cecilia's face, mottled with pox scars. A few seconds later, having realized his rudeness, he cleared his throat awkwardly, put away his camera, and addressed Arkan. "So long as you cooperate, there'll be no trouble. Might I see some identification?"

"One moment. Honey, could you get out my ID?"

The officer's tone was friendly. Judging by Arkan's upright posture, he'd correctly pegged him as a retired soldier.

Cecilia fished the forged identification out of her handbag. As she handed it over, Arkan wore an easy, genial smile, utterly at his leisure.

"Issued just last month, I see. Did you lose your previous one?"

"Ah, yes — we moved here last month. We heard this neighborhood was quite lovely for newlyweds. Isn't that right, honey?"

Arkan kissed her forehead with a smile.

Cecilia clicked her tongue inwardly. His acting had reached the point where it genuinely filled her with admiration.

"Everything checks out. You may go on through."

"Thank you."

The moment they were clear of the officer, Arkan dropped his arm from her shoulders. Cecilia immediately pulled up her hood to hide the back of her head.

She'd been giving serious thought to dyeing her hair lately. Nagi and Ruby would certainly hate the smell... but her white hair drew the eye at once, and once someone saw it, they never forgot it.

"How long do they intend to keep running these checks...? It seems some truly monstrous criminal must be on the loose."

"You're telling me. They ought to catch them soon."

Cecilia laughed and agreed with Arkan's joking remark. "It's cold out, too — they have it rough, don't they."

They were still chatting as they entered the hotel building when two men darted out from the mouth of a nearby alley.

"Captain."

The officer snapped a salute, and Davion gave a slight nod in return.

Liam walked, as always, two paces behind his master. Then, emerging from behind the alley, he greeted the officer with a warm smile. "Terrible weather to be working in. My thanks for your diligence."

"Not at all, sir."

While Liam verified the officer's log, Davion took up his post along the boulevard, watching a woman pushing a pram on the opposite sidewalk.

As he burned through a cigarette, the officer kept glancing back over his shoulder, one time after another — until finally, unable to concentrate, Liam reluctantly broke off from his review to address him.

"Tell me — is chickenpox going around again these days?"

"I haven't heard any such news... Why do you ask, sir?"

"Well, a chickenpox patient just walked past us. Headed that way, I believe."

The officer jabbed a thumb over his own shoulder as he spoke.

Chickenpox?

Liam narrowed his eyes and surveyed the bleak hotel entrance. Then a familiar throat-clearing sounded behind him, and he whipped around, startled out of his skin.

The hem of Davion's long coat rippled in the bitter winter wind. Pointing the toe of his shoe toward the parked car, he said, "You scratched it."

Across the sleek black body of the vehicle, several thin white lines had been gouged in sharp, unmissable strokes.

Oh, good Lord. Sweating cold, Liam scrambled to defend himself. "You know I'm a novice behind the wheel. Alley parking is no easy feat for a man like me — and parallel parking especially, I could practice until doomsday and still—"

"That's right. My fault for entrusting a new car to you."

Davion sighed and opened the driver's door. Afraid that dawdling would only earn him another reproach, Liam bid the officer farewell and slid swiftly into the passenger seat.

Davion was still carrying Cecilia's handbag.

Even once he'd settled into the driver's seat, he didn't start the engine — instead he tapped the handle of the bag in an odd, deliberate rhythm, his eyes clouded with some deep contemplation. Gingerly, Liam broached the subject. "Do you suppose the madam has remarried in the meantime?"

In that instant, the fingers tapping the handle went utterly still. Terrified of making even the smallest sound, Liam didn't dare swallow — he simply stared straight ahead.

After a long while, Davion set the bag down on the back seat and answered. "To marry my wife, I had to propose nearly every single day. That's the kind of woman she is — she takes marriage that seriously."

"Then do you believe this so-called 'husband' will reach out to you?"

"Hard to say. It's what I hope for, but I'd best not expect it."

Davion had been forced to concede a point to Cecilia. If she had a companion, then all the officers' efforts — which had focused exclusively on a woman traveling alone — had gone to waste in their entirety.

"It seems she's been hopping from hotel to hotel. What if we searched every hotel in the city?"

"Then my wife would sense it at once. Before the hotel managers agreed to anything, the odds are she'd flee."

A scarred face, and a husband, no less... I take back what I said about her being a fool.

He didn't know exactly how she'd done it, but Cecilia had altered her appearance. In that short span of time, she'd even secured a loyal accomplice willing to play the part of her husband.

If the handbag hadn't returned to her by pure chance, she would have bought herself time to run while this side kept swinging at empty air.

By now Davion was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Several minutes passed — and then, as if a brilliant idea had finally struck, a gleam of revelation flashed across his black eyes.

"The fact that Cecilia is still in this city means she's been keeping up with news of me through the papers. So if I can't find her..."

At last, the engine roared to life with a surge of power.

"Then I'll simply have to make her come find me first."