Read The Lion's Courtship: An Anna Kronberg Mystery for Free Online

been too private.
    Then, he finally answers. ‘I don’t understand most people. And I like living alone.’
    Anna’s head turns, her eyes glued to a man she doesn’t know a bit.  
    ‘Besides…’ He breaks off, his face heating with shame.
    ‘What?’
    He coughs and shakes his head. ‘It’s…embarrassing.’
    ‘Oh.’ She’d like to know what’s so embarrassing, but doesn’t want to press him. At least not directly. She puts her chin into her hand again and traps his gaze with hers. It takes a while, but shows effect.
    ‘Can you keep it?’ Forget-me-not eyes blink at her.
    ‘I will,’ she answers, and adds in her mind, I keep so many secrets that sometimes I don’t know where I left my head .
    ‘I…read.’  
    It takes her a moment, but puzzle pieces fall together eventually. ‘The dangerous Irish thief cannot be seen with his nose in a book. People would think him a harmless freak. Who taught you how to read?’
    ‘My father. He wanted to give me the farm when I’m old enough, so he taught me bookkeeping and all.’
    ‘What are you reading?’
    He shrugs. ‘Um…books?’ She squints at him, and he shrugs again. ‘This and that.’  
    He doesn’t want to say that he reads what he finds in the houses he burgles. ‘The one I’m trying to read now makes me all cross-eyed. From some idiotic fella named Percy Shelley.’
    He turns his head away.
    ‘Why are you ashamed?’ Her voice is like a soft caress, trickling down his spine. He feels a sudden urge to press his face to her bosom. Instead, he gazes towards the one lit lantern, far down the street, where a naked man holding his crotch staggers out of the yellow light.
    ‘I told you so you wouldn’t think I’m a stupid brute. But now that I told you, I think I’m a stupid brute.’
    ‘I don’t like that Percy fella, either,’ she says with a smile. ‘Try Mary Shelley next time. And no, she’s not related to Percy. She’s all together different material.’ With that, she rises and touches his shoulder as a farewell, knowing precisely he would insist on leading her home safely.

The Girl

    T he stairwell is dark this time and the steps seem to be creaking louder as Anna ascends to the second floor. The women go about their usual business and only one is in bed without company. Anna knocks and — not expecting an answer from the severed mouth — she enters. ‘Hello.’
    The girl sits on her bed, her shoulders squared, chin set. Her face is swollen; black silk threads stick out of the wound, giving her a monstrous, tilted grin.  
    ‘How are you doing? You can nod or shake your head, no need to speak.’
    ‘I can sheak,’ she answers slowly. ‘’Ust’nt use sone ‘ords.’
    ‘I’m relieved,’ says Anna and places her palm on the girl’s forehead. ‘You have no fever. Good. How does the wound feel?’
    The girl’s face begins to glisten.
    ‘You are my patient. I’m bound to never mention a word to anyone about your condition or what circumstances led to it. That includes your madam,’ Anna says.
    Considering, the girl’s eyes glide out of focus for an instant. ‘I’n alright.’
    Anna tips her head in reply. ‘I’ll examine your wound and give you something to speed up the healing process. If anything I touch hurts a lot, you must tell me. Otherwise, I might miss an infection that could kill you. Do you understand?’ She tries to make her voice soft.  
    The girl nods.
    Anna disinfects her hands, dabs a little iodine on the wound, and gently probes with her fingers. Clear liquid exits the ragged cut. ‘Open your mouth, please.’
    Her lips are parting just a fraction. With an uhnf, she closes her mouth and shakes her head.
    ‘I know,’ says Anna. ‘Can you try an inch? I need to take a quick look only.’
    The girl’s eyes get glassy when she opens up her mouth, the fingers of one hand pressing against the corner of her lower lips to lessen the tension on the suture.
    Anna twists her neck to peek through the