Shepherd Hunted Read Online Free Page B

Maybe Kit had returned while he searched. Honheim was a large town. It would be easy to miss her.
    The thought did little to comfort him.
    Timothy breathed the air of the inn. Baking bread and wood polish agreed with his nerves better than the acrid scents of the street. Melanie bent over her desk, writing in a ledger as usual. A couple of blurry-eyed girls cleaned tables or swept the floor. The empty space welcomed him after a night of trudging through crowds.
    Timothy stifled another yawn.
    “So the wayward husband returns.” Melanie studied Timothy. “I don’t see any signs of another woman, and you do not smell of drink.”
    Timothy grimaced.
    Melanie held up a hand. “No offense meant. I just thought something happened when I saw her come in with that scamp.”
    “Wait. Kit is here?”
    “Trent brought her hours ago. I had to all but take a skillet to Trent to make him leave.” Melanie met Timothy’s eyes. “You are welcome.”
    Timothy sighed. “Trent never gives up, does he?”
    “Not for as long as I’ve known him. He even tries with me on occasion. You’d think he’d learn after I blackened his eye a few times.” Melanie clapped her hands. “Clarise, let’s see if we can save young Timothy from his wife.”
    Clarise scurried into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a pair of steaming honey rolls on a small plate. She returned to her feather duster but kept shooting Timothy looks.
    He sighed. I didn’t do anything to deserve those looks.
    “Good luck, Timothy. I will charge you for anything she breaks.” Melanie winked. “Think on that before you say anything.”
    Timothy trudged up the stairs. Trent found Kit. Kit was drunk. Trent was a known womanizer. No! Timothy would not let his mind go that way. Melanie ran Trent off. What had happened before they came to the inn?
    Did Trent know her ears and tail were real?
    Acid churned Timothy’s stomach. The scent of the honey cakes curled his nose. Timothy should never have let her go to the festival. He should have stayed with her. He paused at the door and took a deep breath. At least she was safe. She would understand how hard he had looked for her, right?
    It was time to face the executioner.
    “Look what I found!” Timothy opened the door and thrust the honey rolls in. Honey slid from the plate and down his hand. Melanie’s cook was generous with portions.
    The single window framed Kit. Her tail’s fur stood in every direction. Her blouse was rumpled, and her ears slumped.
    “When were you going to tell me?” she asked.
    “About last night? I looked for you all night.”
    Timothy laid the sweet rolls on the table. He held his arm out, and honey slithered down it.
    “When were you going to tell me?”
    “Tell you what? I lost track of you and—”
    She held up a crumpled piece of paper with two fingers.
    Timothy’s hand felt the pocket of his coat. The note! His eyes fled to the threadbare farmer’s coat rumpled on his bed. I forgot about the note! When they’d visited Timothy’s home, he had discovered the truth of Kit’s birthplace. The records could have been wrong. He had prayed they were wrong. Not even the Inquisition could massacre an entire village. I foolishly wrote down it down. Why didn’t I just tell her? Because I thought a note would be easier?
    And she now held that note.
    She gazed him with a single green eye. The watery depths stilled Timothy’s heart. Her gaze accused and berated him.
    Betrayal.
    “I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you. I…I couldn’t find the right time,” Timothy said. The words sounded empty.
    “Did you? Did you really? You knew that I wanted to find my home. Two hundred tails collected. You actually wrote that. How could you?” Kit waved the note. “It would have been enough to just tell me everyone was killed. Why? Why would you write something so terrible?”
    “It was what the account said. I…I thought you should know. I—”
    “Was it fun, knowing this and