Dead Girl Walking Read Free

recognize the voice. She turned her head upward and saw an older gentleman, gray scarf wrapped around his neck, matching his graying hair and beard. She found it odd, considering they were indoors and the wood burning stove heated the tavern.
    “Larkin?” she asked and glanced back at the bar. “Yeah, he's pretty amazing.”
    The older man studied her for a long moment and sighed. He reached out for her hand, gently grazing the skin on the back of her wrist. “It was nice meeting you. Have fun tonight; you both deserve it.” He backed away and disappeared into the crowd.
    “That was odd,” Leila muttered, no longer able to see the gentleman among the other patrons. Larkin carried two beers back to the table.
    “Who was that?” Larkin asked.
    “I have no idea. He came over to comment on you and then told us to have a fun night.”
    Larkin laughed. “He seemed friendly enough. I say we take his suggestion and have an amazing time together.”
    “You would.” Leila wanted to ignore the nagging feeling that something was amiss. What could she do about it though? He hadn't called her by name. There was no way he knew she was Princess Ophelia; she would be fine. She reached across the table and grabbed her beer, taking a swig. The bubbles tingled her lips and warmed her cheeks. “We should do this more often.”
    “You mean sneaking out twice a week isn't enough for you? I told you, I'm happy to meet your father. Clear the air and let him know we're courting.”
    Leila sipped her beer and choked on his words, putting the glass down on the table. “I'm not ready for that yet.” She would never be ready to tell her father that she loved Larkin. King Philip would have him beheaded. He wouldn't care that Larkin hadn't known she was the princess, not even his innocence could save him.
    “Well, please let me know when you are ready.” Larkin sipped his beer, the froth leaving a slight mustache on his upper lip.
    Leila grinned and leaned forward, wiping it away with her thumb. “I will.” She looked away with a nervous laugh. “I need to uh, use the latrine.” She excused herself, scooting back from the table.
    “Do you want an escort?”
    “No sense in both of us freezing to death.”
    Leila waded through the crowd, bumping into a few patrons on her way out the door. She stepped outside into the cold night air, pulling her cloak tighter around her chest. She was freezing. Shivering, she walked toward the outhouse. It was dark and difficult to see. Usually a lantern hung from the back porch, giving off a fair amount of light, but it was extinguished tonight. “Hello?”
    Something felt strangely off, but Leila couldn't place it. She walked blindly toward the latrine, feeling around the trees for the wooden door to the outhouse. Locating it, her hand grasped the cold metal handle as a heavy hand covered her lips preventing her from screaming.
    Leila opened her mouth and bit down hard on the man’s hand. She gasped for breath and shrieked, hoping someone would hear her. With an elbow, she jabbed the perpetrator’s stomach, attempting to loosen his grasp. Rushing forward, she slammed her hand into the wooden outhouse, feeling a splinter pierce her skin. It was nothing compared to the horror of being attacked. Her pulse raced, and sweat beaded her brow. She couldn’t think, only react. Her feet slipped on the dried crinkled leaves as she punched the man in the throat; he grunted and kicked her feet out from under her. Leila fell face first in the dirt. She felt his dark presence above her. “Please, no! I’m the princess! I have money, I can give you whatever you need.” Had the stranger known who she was, would he have attacked her? A jagged knife sliced across her throat. In an instant, Ophelia Dacre was dead.
     
    Ophelia took two steps back away from her corpse, her chest heaving. “What just happened?” The darkened figure took off in the opposite direction. “Get back here!” she shouted and found