Page 32 of Kingdom of Chains

‘Touché,’ Alveye said under his breath.

A few tense seconds passed before Hodge said, ‘I shall come with you.’

‘No.’ Her response was a fraction too firm and far too quick. ‘What I mean is I am tired and need a quiet moment.’

Blackmane was ready to tackle Hodge to the ground if he did not give her a few minutes’ reprieve. Thankfully, it did not come to that.

Hodge gestured to a passing guard. ‘Webb, take Lady Isabel to her quarters. She is in need of rest.’ His eyes never left her. ‘And stand guard outside until I get there.’

Normally, Blackmane would agree with such precautions, but this felt a lot like she had just become one of the prisoners.

‘This way,’ Webb said, gesturing back in the other direction.

She glanced a final time at the children, then walked ahead of him.

‘Shall we continue with the tour?’ Hodge asked.

Alveye, Hadewaye, and Blackmane all looked in the direction of the children. Tatum was forced to answer on their behalf.

‘Yes. Let’s see the infamous holding cells.’

Hodge turned and marched off.

‘Relax. She’s quite safe in here,’ Tatum said as he fell into step with Blackmane. He spoke in a low voice so Hodge would not hear.

Blackmane scraped his teeth over his lower lip, eyes boring into Hodge’s back. ‘You’re wrong about that. Her biggest threat is nearby at all times.’

Tatum glanced sideways at him. ‘Just remember our orders. We’re here to observe, not interfere.’

Blackmane nodded, then fought the urge to look over his shoulder at Isabel’s retreating back.

CHAPTER 10

It was definitely her. A ghost from Isabel’s past. Yvaine. Beautiful Yvaine. The best cook in Carmarthenshire in Isabel’s opinion.

And Ita’s mother.

She was alive. And if she was alive, that meant there was a chance Ita was alive too. But Isabel had to be careful how she proceeded, because it was clear Hodge had no idea who she was, and there was a reason Yvaine had not identified herself to him despite there being a hundred reasons why she should.

The guard escorted her along the muddy road, beneath an overcast sky that made it impossible to gauge how late in the day it was. When the kitchen area came into sight, she searched for Yvaine among the women. They were hard to tell apart in their drab clothing with their hoods pulled up to protect them against the cold December winds.

‘I am going to need something to eat,’ Isabel told the guard.

Webb gave her a tired look. ‘Do I look like a lady’s maid?’

‘I am not asking you to cook it for me. I am quite capable of organising my own food.’ She stopped at the kitchen area, glancing around.

The women paused their work and looked in her direction, giving her a chance to see their faces again.

‘I was instructed to take you to your tent,’ Webb said, sounding irritated.

She looked up at him. ‘Shall I tell His Lordship that my request for a simple bowl of soup was denied?’

The guard exhaled and gestured for her to go ahead.

She walked into the kitchen area, eyes darting left and right. Her vision snagged on a familiar pair of brown boots with pointed toes, boots her mother had given Yvaine as a gift many years ago. She lifted her gaze, her heart squeezing as she met warm hazel eyes—eyes that always seemed to smile. A few moments passed, and then Yvaine noticed Webb standing there and straightened.

‘Can I help you with something?’ she asked, her tone lacking its usual warmth.