Or could he simply have collected them on our father’s orders? As if in answer to my question, the seneschal says, “The young master asked me to give you something should you show up here.”
I take a step toward the man. “What? Where is it?”
He sends a page to fetch the box from his office, and I wait impatiently, pacing back and forth. I start to tell the groom to saddle fresh horses, but Beast stops me. “No,” he says, his voice low. “We cannot leave this minute. You need rest and time to compose yourself. You cannot clatter across the countryside like a poorly cocked arrow.”
And though Beast has but said what I know deep inside to be true, I lash out at him. “How? How can I rest while they are in danger?” The sympathy in his eyes is like another blow, for of course he knows of this misery firsthand. It is precisely what he felt when Alyse went off to marry d’Albret.
And now he will have to endure it a second time.
I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, willing myself to cry, willing the nearly overwhelming pain to find a way out.
But it does not.
How can I tell him now? The last of the secrets between us, the one that I had hoped to lay before him like a gift. But no longer. Now I only have more despair to hand him.
Ignoring my attempt to put space between us, Beast draws close again. “They are not in danger while they are traveling, not with such a large escort,” he says. “Nor by my reckoning are they in any true danger—they are merely being used as a means to compel you to your father’s side. We have nearly foundered our horses trying to get here, and you yourself are swaying on your feet. Besides, we will need some sort of plan.”
I am saved from arguing with him by the seneschal’s return. He carries a small wooden casket, carved of lustrous ebony wood and inlaid with ivory. He hands it to me with a little bow, and I find I am terrified of opening it. I take a deep breath, then lift the lid.
Two locks of hair sit upon the red velvet lining. One is the golden brown of my sister Louise’s hair and the other the much darker color of Charlotte’s. They are braided together with a third lock—the shiny black of Julian’s own hair.
I snap the lid closed and press the box to my stomach, as if to hide it, but the image is burned into my vision. It is a clear echo of our own two locks of hair that he carries in the hilt of his sword, a sign of his devotion to me. I think I will be sick.
“Is everything all right?” the seneschal asks in a worried voice.
It is Beast who answers. “We have ridden hard to reach here and my lady is nigh unto exhausted. That is all. Fetch some wine,” he orders. “And a waiting woman.”
I want to tell him I do not need such coddling, but I can barely breathe, let alone speak. Strong hands press me down so that I am sitting on a low wall. Beast leans over and whispers in my ear, “We have an audience.”
His warning is like a pail of frigid water in my face. Of course, he is right. And even now I have no idea how many are blindly loyal to d’Albret or simply follow him out of fear.
As I straighten, I glance at the seneschal. Is that only concern over my well-being I see in his eyes? Or is there a trace of slyness as well? And the others. I glance around the courtyard at the men-at-arms. There are nearly a dozen of them, and they all appear relaxed enough. If they have been given any orders concerning me, the instructions do not seem to include restraining me on sight.
Avoiding Beast’s eyes, I compose my face and stand up. “I am overwhelmed by the dearness of the gift my brother has left me,” I tell the seneschal. “And tired besides. I would like to retire to my room, if I may. Oh, and our riders follow behind us. When they arrive, see that they and their horses are cared for.”
“But of course, my lady.” Just then, a serving woman bearing a tray comes into the courtyard, and I recognize Heloise. She greets me joyfully as she hands me a goblet. I take a sip and act as if it refreshes me. “See to the Baron de Waroch’s comfort, if you please. We would both like to rest ourselves after our travels.”
At the very least, I need to wash the taint of my brother’s message from me, so that I am clean when I set out after my sisters.
For all the staff’s faults and questionable loyalties, they are well trained, and the holding is in excellent order. My own room is as if I had never left it. “Put the baron in the south guest chamber,” I instruct Heloise. It is one of the finest and will confer a certain amount of prestige upon him, and it is close by mine—a mere two doors away.
Once I’m settled in my chambers, Heloise directs two young maids to prepare a bath before the fire, then comes to help me undress. “How did you find my brother, Heloise? Was he in good spirits? I know my lord father is much distracted of late.”
“Oh yes, my lady. Lord Julian was in g*y spirits and overjoyed to see his sisters once more. Indeed, his pleasure at their reunion reminded me of how much pleasure he always takes in your company.”
Her words are spoken innocently enough, but they cause my stomach to shrivel into a tiny knot. “And Louise? How is her health of late?”
There is a tiny pause, one that sets alarms clanging in my breast. “She has not grown any stronger, my lady, that is for certain. But hopefully, as spring comes, her health will return.”
I turn to look at her so I may see the truth of her answer in her face. “Was she well enough to make the trip?” As I stare into her brown eyes, I can see a shadow of doubt lurking there.
“Of a certainty, Master Julian thought so. I made sure they placed extra blankets and furs around her and instructed him to be certain she had warm bricks at every opportunity. Lady Charlotte promised to look after her as well.”
And she would, of that I had no doubt, but she was only ten years old and a mere child herself.
After I have bathed and dressed, I send my attendants from the room, claiming I need rest. Instead of resting, however, I begin pacing in front of the fire, trying to determine the best way to free my sisters. Will I have any allies on the inside? If Julian is only acting on my father’s wishes, I could most likely coax him into giving me aid, but I fear that he may well have acted on his own, for how else to explain the locks of hair?
And even once I have them free—assuming I do not get us all killed in the process—where will I take them? Where will they be safe?
The convent. The answer comes to me like a whisper on a breeze.
But will they be safe there? What of the abbess? I think of Charlotte and Louise, so different from me, and then I think of all the younger girls at the convent and know they will be safe enough. Even I was safe for a few short years.