Twelve Dancing Princes

Friday: Sir Timothy McKeagan

Sherry's funeral is held in a church a few blocks from the palace. My first outing after the murder attempt and I don't have her hovering somewhere behind me. How strange my life has become.

I take Timmy's trembling hand beside me, tears flow down our faces. To my left, Royce and to his left, Bertie. The ceremony has just ended. The guests make their way out, but none of us feels like getting up. We sit in silence, each with our own thought, but somehow I can feel us going back to the same time. When the world felt so much lighter, the palace so much bigger and the woman laid in front of us, so much alive.

"Paige couldn't make it." Royce says quietly.

"I'm sure Sherry understands." My voice cracks at the end, still can't get used to refer to her in past tense.

"She wanted to remind you that it's not your fault, Jenny."

I smile at him weakly. "It's very nice of her to say that." But everybody in this bloody church knows it's very much my fault. They're not that naive to attack me in the open, but I'm not blind nor deaf. I've gotten nothing but hateful eyes and sour murmurs since I arrived here, and I know I can't blame them. Let's face it—no enemies of Sherry are powerful enough to pull off something like this.

That's exactly why uncle convinced me to skip the funeral, to no avail. I did promise to come back as soon as I can, though.

"I don't blame you, Jenny." Royce gives my left hand a little squeeze.

"And neither do we." Bertie quickly jumps in.

"Thank you, guys. I really appreciate it." I manage a weak smile.

"Do you know something about her murderer, Jenny?" Bertie asks.

"Nothing conclusive that I know of." But last night, my uncle did say something strange. "Do any of you know her daughter has been hospitalized for almost two weeks?"

Timmy tenses beside me, but says nothing.

"What? Now that you mention it, I don't see Lucas and Rhea anywhere." Bertie scans the church subtly.

I glare at Bertie. "You didn't know? That so-called husband of her left last year. It's been her and Rhea for a while now." I turn to Timmy. "Timmy, you know about Rhea?"

"I ... uh. Yeah, of course. Wilms' tumor. Um. I didn't tell you, B?" Timmy says, absentmindedly.

"I knew that guy's bad news!" Bertie sighs. "Poor Rhea. Will she be okay?"

"We'll take care of her. It's the least we can do." I say sternly.

Bertie nods. "Look, Jenny, stop punishing yourself. Sherry wouldn't want that either."

"Thanks ... Bertie."

Bertie casts a concerned look at his fellow stable guy and says, "You're quiet, Timmy."

Timmy stands up abruptly, then turns to us. "Guys, please let me get back alone with Jenny. Please."

Bertie starts to argue, hot on his heels. Royce gets between them before things start to heat up. I hang back to study Timmy in silence.

He looks pale and he sweats a lot. Moreover, he looks guilty. I know my uncle warned me not to be alone with him if I can help it, but this is my chance if I want to learn anything about Sherry's death. I'd be crazy to let this opportunity escape me. And ... well, call me naive. But after all that's happened to me, I still don't think he has it in him to hurt me.

"Okay." I say, effectively silencing the three of them. But not for long. Then Bertie speaks up, followed closely by Timmy, and they get back to arguing in no time.