Once Upon a Crime by P. J. Brackston

elevate them into a suitable state for entering the hereafter. Just as she had convinced herself it was all up for Gretel (yes, that Gretel) from Gesternstadt, there came a swift whooshing noise as an arrow whistled past her nose and struck the nearest lion’s chest. The creature fell silently, dead before it hit the ground. Gretel did not let the shock of what had just happened slow her pace, but flung herself at the fence. Where the arrow had come from or who had fired it, she neither knew nor cared. Above her, Bruder was still attempting to haul himself to the top when another lion sprang from the shadows and snatched him down. Gretel yanked herself onto the uppermost wooden rail. She could not see Bruder, but she could hear his shrieks. They didn’t last long, but were quickly replaced with the stomach-turning sounds of powerful jaws crunching on bones. Gretel used her vantage point to scan the Schloss grounds, searching for the mystery archer, but there was no sign of anyone. She pivoted over the fence and let herself down, landing heavily on theforest floor. She staggered to her feet and dusted herself off, and then, with the unforgettable sounds of the lions feasting on the farmer echoing through the trees, she trudged toward home.
    It was a little before dawn when Gretel reached the safety of her own sitting room. She had been capable only of babbling incoherently at Hans, who was still up after a late-night poker game at the inn, but he had recognized the seriousness of her condition, not least, he later told her, because she wasn’t wearing her precious shoes. So it was that within the hour Gretel was sitting on her daybed in her nightclothes, taking alternate sips of soup and brandy, her feet soaking in a bowl of hot lavender water. The sun had indeed risen and its soothing rays drifted through the dusty windows.
    Gretel thought a morning had never looked so beautiful, and was surprised to find herself fighting back a tear for poor, feckless Bruder, who would never see the sunshine again. She tried to sort the events of the night in her mind, but there were mystifying parts that she simply could not fathom. For a start, why had Princess Charlotte been skulking about in the woods with a stranger, and why had she accused Gretel and the old farmer of kidnapping? And who had fired the arrow that had killed the lion, which had, beyond any doubt, saved her life? And there were still the snatched cats to be dealt with. She was already seriously out of pocket, and no doubt the guard would appear in a few days to collect the second half of his bribe. On top of which, if the princess continued to insist she had been kidnapped, the king might well come after Gretel. At least, given his fragile state of mind, there was a fair chance he would fail to do anything further about it. He did not give the impression of a person fully in command of his senses. Even so, a lawyer seemed like a good idea, and lawyers were expensive. Now she would never get the chance to quiz Bruder about the cat collar on his wrist. She recalled Agnes telling her that a trollheld information on the whereabouts of the felines. If she could find him, extract some details, and report progress back to Frau Hapsburg, she could legitimately demand some more money. Besides, she reasoned, a few days away might be a good idea, just in case the king sent his troops looking for her. Or, worse still, employed the odious Kingsman Strudel to arrest her. Gretel would walk a long way to avoid giving him that satisfaction. A very long way indeed. She also remembered Agnes’s promise of a tall, dark, handsome stranger. A clear image of the good-looking attendant at the Schloss came back to her. She shook her head to clear it of such nonsense.
    â€œHans!” She put aside her soup bowl. “Where are the maps?”
    â€œWhat maps?”
    â€œWhatever maps we have. I need to locate a troll. He lives near a big lake, under a bridge, so there must be