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“I believe the murderer is someone at the carnival,” he continued. “I didn’t before, but even when the carnival was in Sorel, there would be enough time to journey here and back if they rode fast enough.”
A horrific thought crossed her mind—she was the only performer who could bloom dahlias, ones that she recently found out she could cut from herself.
Bram held up both flowers. “The dahlia in my right hand is from a victim, and the other in my left is from you. I saved it after the inn but hadn’t looked at it again until today. Without water, it hasn’t withered a fraction. It’s as if it’s just been plucked from a stem.”
“It’s not me. I didn’t do it,” she said, her voice hard.
“Of course she didn’t.” Anika glared at Bram.
“I don’t think you did anything, Cricket,” he started, lowering his voice. “For one thing, you were never alone at the pub when a murder occurred. I believe someone took them from you without you knowing. You told me you passed out several times, and Zephyr was alone with you.”
“Zephyr?” she hissed. “Are you mad? He has nothing to do with this.”
“You’ve also been sleeping with him at night,” Anika murmured. “Could he have? Don’t think about it with your emotions.”
Cricket covered her mouth as she remembered Zephyr carrying her when the darkness took over. She supposed he could’ve taken some then, but what about before that? Another image struck her like lightning, cracking a tree in half. His curiosity feels hers, and if he’d been around her while she was the Sleeping Darling, could he have done something then? Drawn them forward, then snipped a few off? Thinking back to the pub, he’d also been there when the victim was murdered… Could a blond man have been relieving himself at the same time as Zephyr, and he’d chosen to kill him? Had dahlias been hidden in his satchel? Then there was the incident when she’d found the note pinned to the tree. He’d been the first to arrive, and she hadn’t seen him enter the woods. Would he have been quick and sneaky enough to do these things? Perhaps even rip their rib cages apart with his vines?
Cricket’s hands shook, and her lungs clamped—she didn’t think she could breathe. “His curiosity might be able to pull mine forward… But it can’t be. That would mean he murdered his own sister.”
Bram pursed his lips. “People murder family members all the time. I’ve seen unbelievably gruesome things done to them.”
“Were you awake with him the whole night when Juniper died?” Anika asked.
Cricket had blamed herself for Zephyr being with her instead of his sister, but they had been asleep for most of the night. Or perhaps it was just her... Would she have heard him sneaking out if she was deep in sleep, exhausted from him pleasuring her and with everything else that had been going on? “Not the whole night, no. But it couldn’t be,” she finally answered. “What about when the carnival was in Sorel? What of those dahlias?”
Bram gripped the back of his neck. “The flowers from the earlier victims were disposed of, and perhaps those had been ones from somewhere else. It’s another reason I need to question him.”
“He won’t be back until late since he went to Sorel to meet his aunt and tell her of Juniper’s death. I don’t know her name or where she lives.”
“Bloody hell,” Bram grumbled.
Cricket bit the inside of her cheek, part of her not wanting to tell him this, but the sooner Bram questioned Zephyr, the sooner they could all move on to the real murderer. It was impossible that Zephyr had killed his own sister… “He’s meeting me here in the morning for breakfast.”
Bram jerked his head up. “That’s perfect. It doesn’t give him a chance to run, and I want to question him before anyone else at the carnival in case they were to warn him.”
“I’m going upstairs to bathe, if that’s all right?” Cricket whispered, needing to think.
“Of course,” Anika said, taking her arm in hers and helping her up the stairs as though Cricket might collapse at any moment.
“I’ll be fine.” But would she really if Zephyr had done it? No. He’d even helped her unbury a body. That would mean all along, he knew he was the one who murdered the victim. The very thought was absolutely preposterous.
Cricket remained in the bath until the water turned cold. She couldn’t get herself to eat more than a few bites of fruit, and she avoided everyone for the rest of the day as she tried to sift through her thoughts. None of it was making sense, or was it? If Zephyr needed to be questioned, she concluded that she would be the one to do it. The way he was with his sister, bringing her trinkets… He couldn’t have. She was starting to loathe herself for doubting him for even a second.
Pulling back the curtains, she peered out at the night. Zephyr said he would be home late, so she would go to him and wait if he wasn’t there yet. The halls were silent, and Bram and Anika had already gone to bed. Only two servants stood in the sitting room, watching over the manor. She descended the steps, and no one said anything as she passed. After all, she was a guest.
Cricket quietly drew open the door and slipped out into the night. She waited for a servant outside guarding the home to round the side of the manor before she hurried through the garden. Making certain her footfalls remained light, she kept to the shadows and went out the gate, then down the road to the carnival.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The torches lit up the night at the carnival, but no one lingered outside. The only soul she’d seen was one solitary authority, passing by on horseback as he patrolled.
Cricket hurried to Zephyr’s caravan, praying he was already home. She thought about the yellow cloak that the murderer had worn in the woods, and as she knocked on his door, there was no possible way Zephyr could’ve taken it off and hidden it in time. Especially when there’d been the other performers searching the woods. Someone would’ve been bound to spot it. That still would mean someone had practically vanished into thin air.
As for the night she’d fallen asleep with her head on Zephyr’s shoulder, him leaving Cricket’s caravan to go into town to murder Joanna at the inn and somehow carry her bloody body back didn’t seem feasible.
Zephyr wasn’t home yet, and she didn’t have a blasted key or know how to pick locks. An idea came to her then—Mistress Eliza had spare keys to all the caravans, but she didn’t want to disturb the woman. However, she wouldn’t wait outside when the murderer could be skulking around, watching her at that very moment. A shiver ran up her spine, and she hurried to Mistress Eliza’s. It took the necromancer several moments to answer the door in her nightgown while holding up a lantern in one hand.
“Are you out here alone, child?” Mistress Eliza asked, her eyes wide as she glanced out, searching to confirm her answer.
