Page 26 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“A re we ready yet?” Curtis asked impatiently. “What is the delay?”

It was midafternoon on the day after Christopher’s diagnosis. He’d made it through the night, but the physic was certain that he wasn’t going to survive much longer. That meant everything the de Lohr sons were doing was sped up to accommodate the situation as well as the march to Hell’s Forge.

But for Curtis, it wasn’t moving fast enough.

He’d been supervising the situation in a general sense, and when the army was ready, he went to find Roi to see how their father’s escort home was progressing. He found the situation not as advanced as he would like, and it was difficult to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

“We’ve had an issue with one of the wheels,” Roi said. He wiped the sweat off his brow, pointing to a gang of soldiers and a wheelwright as they worked on one of the fortified de Lohr carriages. It was the largest carriage and the only one capable of accommodating Christopher for his homeward journey. “The wheel is iron-reinforced, but the wooden portion underneath was cracked. Westley and Papa must have had a rough journey here, because it takes a good deal of force to crack those wheels.”

Curtis watched the soldiers place the wheel on the axle as the wheelwright hammered it into place. “But everything else is ready?” he said.

Roi nodded. “Everything,” he said. “Hopefully we will be departing on the morrow if the physic deems Papa well enough to travel. We should reach Lioncross in a couple of days if we move slowly.”

“Is the physic going with you?”

“Aye,” Roi said. “I demanded it. I do not want Papa on the road for two days without assistance. Oh, and Mama has already sent word to Uncle David and Uncle Marcus, among others. She did what the physic told her to do—if there was anyone who needed to have words with Papa, she was to summon them.”

Curtis sighed faintly, trying not to let the situation get to him. “This is going to be devastating to Uncle David.”

“And Uncle Marcus.”

Curtis nodded, thinking of the two men he’d grown up with in David de Lohr, his father’s brother, and Marcus Burton, who was simply a very old friend. Men who had been very close to his father all his life.

“We should send word to Lioncross, too,” he muttered. “To Christin and Brielle so they know what to expect.”

“I already have,” Roi said, noting his brother’s depressed manner. Curtis was the deep feeler while Roi tended to be a little more pragmatic. “Meanwhile, our nephews have done an excellent job at mustering the army and preparing it to move out, but we are still waiting for Myles and Andrew to return with their information about Hell’s Forge. Once we have that, the army can move.”

He was trying to take the focus off their grief and onto the situation at hand, which Curtis thankfully responded to. “Why wait?” he said. “We can get the army on the road and Myles can find us there. Honestly, Roi, I do not want to wait any longer. We must get to Westley.”

Roi tilted his head in the direction of the gatehouse. “Then go,” he said. “Everything is ready. But have Rhodes as your second-in-command. He bellows orders like Jax de Velt did and everyone in the damn country will hear him.”

Curtis laughed softly. “I miss the man.”

“As do I.”

“How many years has it been since we lost him?”

“Thirty-three.”

Curtis lingered over that. “It seems forever ago,” he said. “I never fought with him, you know. Too young.”

“Nor did I,” Roi said. “Peter did, once. He said he’s never seen anything so frightening.”

The de Lohr carriage suddenly settled heavily on the wheel that had been repaired. The entire conveyance rattled and shook. Curtis and Roi looked at the thing, watching the wheelwright continue to adjust the wheel. Gabriel and Nicholas were hovering over the man, telling him that a man’s life depended on how well he could repair the wheel, and the old wheelwright simply took it in his stride. Young, bossy knights were amusing and he’d dealt with enough of them. Just as Roi was thinking about chasing his nephews away, there seemed to be some commotion over near the gatehouse.

Both Curtis and Roi turned in that direction, trying to see what the fuss was about but assuming it meant Myles and Andrew were returning. They began to make their way toward the gatehouse as Andrew abruptly charged in through the open portcullis. The horse was badly winded and Andrew nearly fell on his face as he tried to dismount. Harker was there to steady him, and the horse, but the moment Andrew caught sight of Curtis and Roi, he began to shout.

“We found Westley!” he said, running toward his uncles. “We found him on the road!”

Curtis and Roi looked at him in shock. “ Found him?” Curtis said, incredulous. “Slow down, Andy. Where is West?”

Andrew threw an arm in the direction of the gatehouse, pointing. “With Uncle Myles,” he said. Then the young man put his hand next to his head. “He has a wound on his head, a bad one. Uncle Myles says he needs a physic.”

Curtis pointed to the keep. “Fetch the physic with Taid,” he said. “Bring him immediately.”

Andrew bolted for the keep. Meanwhile, Curtis and Roi ended up running the rest of the way to the gatehouse. By the time they reached the structure, men were crowding inside of it. They could see Myles and Westley just entering, trying to fight through the crowd, and Curtis and Roi began shouting to clear everyone out. With four de Lohr brothers bellowing, men cleared out quickly enough. When Westley came through the gatehouse and into the bailey, Roi stopped his horse and practically yanked his brother out of the saddle.

“Christ, West,” Roi said, nearly holding his brother up once his feet hit the ground. “You have no idea how thrilled we are to see you.”

Westley smiled wanly. “Same, brother,” he said. “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I would ever see you again.”

Roi hugged him tightly as Curtis and Myles joined them. They all ended up in a big hug, so very glad to see their youngest brother. But they were all acutely aware that he had a visible injury, and Curtis grabbed hold of his head, taking a close look at the damage.

“You’ve got a nasty wound there,” he said. “What happened?”

Westley sighed heavily, wearily. “I’ve escaped from Hell’s Forge,” he said. “But before I get into the tale, where is Olan?”

“In the vault,” Roi said. “We figured out what happened, West. Mama sent word to us when you disappeared, asking us to bring the army to Massington, presumably to search for you. But Harker saw you and Olan leave Massington, and he only saw Olan return. When we realized he was responsible for your disappearance, we interrogated him. He confessed everything.”

Westley couldn’t even nod his head because it was paining him so much. “Good,” he muttered. “Give me some time to tend my wound and then I’ll join that bastard in the vault and show him just what I think of his betrayal.”

“You probably do not need to,” Roi said quietly. “Myles has been at him. It’s not a pretty sight.”

Westley looked at Myles, who was absolutely unrepentant. “Thank you,” he said with more enthusiasm than he’d shown since he returned. “I do not care what you’ve done to him because whatever it is, I approve heartily. Because of him, I was nearly killed and Ella is now a captive of Fitz Walter.”

That drew a reaction from the group. “Lady Elysande is at Hell’s Forge?” Curtis said, bewildered. “How in the hell did that happen?”

Westley grunted unhappily. “’Tis a dreadful story,” he said. “But your response tells me that you did not even realize she was missing.”

Curtis shook his head. “We’ve not seen her, but we were told that she was holed up in the keep.”

“By whom?” Westley wanted to know.

Curtis shrugged, looking around the bailey until he spied the big Teutonic knight. “By Harker,” he said, pointing. “We took him at his word.”

Westley’s gaze moved off toward Harker, watching the man as he dealt with some soldiers. “It is possible he may not even know she is gone,” he said. “It seems to me that he has always been very tolerant of her and her wants. She wanted to train as a warrior, so he indulged her, albeit poorly. He thinks she simply wants to remain locked up in her chamber, so he hasn’t made the necessary inquiries to confirm that, nor has he checked on her himself.”

“Possibly,” Curtis said. “He hasn’t said a word about Olan. I would assume the two have served together for some time?”

Westley nodded. “Years, as far as I know,” he said. “I’m assuming he knows about Olan’s betrayal?”

“He knows,” Curtis said. “But, as I said, he hasn’t said a word about it.”

Westley simply lifted his eyebrows. “I do not know the man well, but my experience with him suggests he’s a brooder,” he said. “In any case, I do not wish to waste my time discussing him. My wife is a captive of Samson Fitz Walter and I intend to raze the place to get to her. It looks to me as if the army is ready to march.”

Curtis nodded. “It is ready to march to Hell’s Forge for you,” he said. “Now we shall go and retrieve your wife.”

“Indeed, we shall,” Westley said. “And I will lead that attack.”

Curtis shook his head and grasped Westley by the arm. “Not until the physic looks at that head wound,” he said, looking off toward the keep in time to see Andrew and the physic, who bore the odd name of Moonie, emerging from the entry. “There he is. Come with me, West.”

Westley allowed himself to be pulled along as Roi and Myles followed. “Why is a physic here?” Westley asked. “Who is ill?”

That brought Curtis to a halt. He looked at Roi, at Myles, knowing he had to tell Westley about their father. The truth was going to be painful, but they could not avoid it, especially if Westley was asking a direct question.

“The physic is here for Papa,” Curtis said, his voice quiet.

Westley didn’t like the expression on his brother’s face. “Why?” he said warily. “What happened?”

Curtis fixed him in the eye. “Shortly after you vanished, he went to sleep, and when he awoke, he could not move the left side of his body,” he said. “He can hardly speak. The physic says it is apoplexy, an attack of the brain, and it has greatly affected him.”

Westley stared at him. “He… he cannot move?”

“Not on his left side.”

“Will he heal?”

“The physic does not think so.”

Westley had to digest that information, struggling to keep down the emotions in him that erupted so freely. “What is being done for him, then?” he said, unable to keep his agitation at bay. As the physic drew nearer, he put out a hand as if to wave the man off. “I do not need him to look at me. Send him back to Papa. He needs to heal Papa!”

Curtis cupped Westley’s face, forcing his brother to look at him. “Papa will not be healed, West,” he said. “We’ve all had time to understand that, so I am sorry to tell you out here in the middle of the bailey with the world going on around us. Roi is preparing to take Papa back to Lioncross. He wants to go home so he can lie in his own bed.”

Westley looked at him, horrified. Then he looked at Roi and Myles, who seemed particularly subdued. Grieving, even.

That told Westley all he needed to know.

“He wants to go home to die,” he whispered. “Isn’t that it?”

Curtis couldn’t respond. None of them could. Westley stared at them as the news sank in and all he could feel was denial. Denial and rage and grief, all rolled into one. It was bad enough that his wife was the prisoner of a madman. Now he’d returned to Massington only to be told that his father was dying.

He just couldn’t believe it.

Westley abruptly broke free of his brothers and started to run. He blew past the physic, past his nephew, and ran to the keep, barreling up the stairs. By the time he hit the entry, he was calling for his father, loudly. He then rushed up the mural stairs with his brothers racing after him, up to the floor where his parents’ chamber was located. He was still shouting for his father, so when he finally reached the landing where Christopher’s chamber was, Dustin was standing there. She’d heard him coming. One look at her youngest son with his bloodied head wound and she threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.

“Thanks be to God and his saints,” she said, squeezing the life out of Westley. “My son has returned. My baby has returned. Let me see what they’ve done to you, West.”

She pulled back to get a look at that black, nasty gash on his head, but Westley was trying to push past her.

“I must see Papa,” he said. “Please let me see Papa.”

He was starting to break down. The tears were coming and he couldn’t stop them. Dustin put herself in front of the door, blocking him from going in, as Curtis and Roi and Myles held him back. Westley began to weep, so very painfully, as his mother cupped his face.

“You have been through so much, West,” she murmured. “Although I thank God for your return, I am so very sorry you had to come back to this.”

Westley could hardly speak. “I want to see my papa,” he said. “Please… let me see him.”

Dustin was struggling with her tears as well. “You can,” she assured him, wiping at his cheeks. “But he is in a fragile state. Please do not burden him with more troubles, West. Let him see you strong and well. Can you do this for him?”

Westley was nodding even as he continued to weep. Tears and mucus were running down his face. “I-I’ll try,” he said.

“Try very hard,” Dustin said softly. “I know this is difficult for you, but it is important that you not cause him further stress.”

Westley took a deep breath to calm himself, or at least tried to. “I will not, I promise,” he said, wiping at his leaking face. “May I go in now?”

Dustin nodded reluctantly. “Aye,” she said. “But I’ll send the physic in with you and he can tend to your wound while you talk to your father. He is difficult to understand because the attack has made the left side of his face stiff, but his mind is still there.”

“I understand.”

He was calmer now than he had been. Dustin took the sleeve of her garment to dry what remained on his face as he struggled to stop all hint of tears. She softly encouraged him to take deep breaths, and he did, finally relaxed enough to move forward.

She opened the door.

Christopher was supine on the big bed, his eyes closed as Westley and the others entered the chamber. Dustin took Westley’s hand and led him around to his father’s right side.

“Chris?” she said softly. “Are you awake?”

The right side of Christopher’s body moved a little. His foot twitched, as did his hand. Dustin leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Wake up,” she murmured. “It is time to rejoice. Westley has come home.”

That brought more of a reaction. Christopher twitched again and something that sounded like a groan came out of his mouth. His right eye opened, half-lidded, and the left eyelid opened a little as well.

“W-Westley?” he said.

So much for being brave. At the sound of his father’s mumbled, jumbled voice, tears popped from Westley’s eyes even though he tried to smile.

“It’s me, Papa,” he said. “I’ve returned.”

Christopher’s eye opened a little wider and he lifted his right hand, which Westley took quickly. The moment their flesh touched, however, Westley’s face crumpled. He went to his knees beside his father’s bed, holding Christopher’s hand against his cheek.

“I am so sorry this happened, Papa,” he said. “I did not mean to worry you so. You know I would never do that intentionally.”

“It’s as we thought, Papa,” Curtis said, standing at the end of the bed. “Olan betrayed Westley to Samson Fitz Walter.”

Christopher’s eye was fixed on Curtis before returning to Westley. “Your… head,” he said. “Did he… do that?”

Since Westley didn’t seem too keen to settle down to let the physic tend his wound, Dustin pulled the physic over to the right side of the bed so he could work on Westley as the man knelt on the floor. Westley’s tears faded as the physic examined the wound.

“Aye,” he said to his father, wiping at his face with his free hand. “He dropped a stone on my head. I was unconscious for a couple of days, I think. I believe that Samson intended to kill me to even the score with you for the death of his uncle. He’s not a well man, Papa. He reeks of madness. But I would not have been there at all had it not been for Olan de Bisby. He betrayed me.”

Christopher grunted, closing his eye. “De Bisby has been… tended to,” he mumbled. “As for Fitz Walter, the… family is mad. He did not… hurt you further, did he?”

“Nay,” Westley said, wincing as the physic and Dustin began to clean the dried blood from his head with water and wine. “Mama and the physic are doing worse than Samson did.”

Dustin grinned, glancing at her husband, knowing he was probably grinning inside as well.

“Quiet, Westley,” she said. “You always were a complainer.”

That brought a smile from Westley. His tears were gone now that he had seen his father and heard his voice, so in spite of the dire situation, that gave him some comfort. But given the stress of his wound and the past few days, his emotions were more brittle than usual.

“Forgive me, Mama,” he said, suffering through the physic digging into his wound to remove some debris. But his focus was on his father. “Papa, the entire reason I’m here is because of Elysande. She went to Fitz Walter and offered to exchange herself for me. I know our army was poised to march on Hell’s Forge to reclaim me, but now we must do it for Ella. She sacrificed herself so that I could be free. I cannot leave her there. I need help getting my wife back.”

Christopher squeezed his son’s hand. “She was upset that you were gone,” he said, sounding a little clearer. “But I’ve not seen her in days.”

Westley snorted. “No one has, evidently,” he said. “She decided to go to Hell’s Forge herself to seek my release. It makes me think of a conversation I had with her when we first met.”

“What was it?”

A look of adoration crossed Westley’s features. “She and I had a discussion about courage,” he said. “I told her that courage is simply fear mixed with determination. She told me that fear is anger, and she uses her anger to motivate her courage. Stubborn, that one is. Like Mama.”

Something that sounded suspiciously like laughter came from Christopher’s mouth. “Then you deserve her,” he said. “But I did not know she had gone to seek your release. That was very brave of her.”

Westley had to close his eyes when the physic finished cleaning out the wound and wiped it down with wine, which stung like mad.

“Papa,” he finally said, “we cannot leave her there, though I have hope that one of Fitz Walter’s men will help keep her safe until I can return. Fitz Walter has a knight by the name of Alend de Bisby. He is Olan’s cousin.”

“Is that how Olan communicated with Fitz Walter, then?” Myles asked, interrupting. He was over by the door, leaning against the jamb. “We knew there had to be some communication between Fitz Walter and Olan, but it makes sense if there was a connection with a cousin at Hell’s Forge.”

“Exactly,” Westley said, looking over at Myles. “I realize it is probably stupid to trust another de Bisby knight, but if it were not for Alend, I would not be here. He’s the one who actually helped me escape.”

Curtis entered the conversation. “I would not trust him again, and certainly not with Elysande’s life,” he said, frowning. “We are ready to march on Hell’s Forge when you are.”

Westley was on his feet, much to the annoyance of his mother and the physic, who were still working on his head.

“ I will lead this army,” he said in a tone that didn’t invite any argument. “This is my wife. Fitz Walter has now sinned against me. This is no longer Papa’s fight, but mine. Are we clear?”

“You are not going anywhere until your wound is tended,” Dustin said, pulling him into a chair so they could resume working on his head. “And your father will decide who leads his army. That is not your privilege.”

“But it is my wife,” Westley said as they went to work on his wound once more. “Papa, is this not my right? My fight?”

Curtis went to the bedside, kneeling down and taking his father’s hand. “What is your wish, Papa?” he asked, smiling. “Should we turn the army over to Westley and watch the bloodbath?”

Christopher gazed at his firstborn son with Dustin with surprising lucidity. “Fitz Walter… has become Westley’s enemy now,” he muttered. “There is a reckoning to be had. If Samson had your wife, what would you do?”

Curtis’ smile faded. “I would kill him.”

“And that is what… Westley wishes to do,” Christopher murmured, his speech hesitant and difficult to understand. “He has seen Hell’s Forge. It is the most difficult… castle I ever tried to breach. Let your brother have a seat at the command table, Curt. This is his wife. His life.”

The last few words faded off and Christopher closed his eyes, exhausted from the short conversation. But his youngest son was back and he could rest far easier now. Even if his sons were preparing to attack the most impenetrable castle he had ever faced, he was confident in their abilities. They were of de Lohr stock.

They would get the job done.

Seeing his father drift off to sleep again, Curtis stood from his kneeling position beside the bed. But his gaze lingered on his father, and he felt such a hollow sense of sorrow at this mighty man cut down and betrayed by his own body. It was a painful grief, like his guts had been clawed out.

They all felt it.

“Roi,” Curtis said after a moment, “as soon as the physic approves of Papa being moved, take him home immediately.”

Roi, at the end of the bed, nodded faintly. “And you still wish for me to go with him?”

“One of us should.”

Roi wasn’t too thrilled about his brothers going to battle without him, but he understood. His job, taking his father home, was monumentally important. Myles, having remained largely silent throughout the entire conversation, pushed himself off the wall and approached the bed.

“Andrew and I have observations of Hell’s Forge and, I think, a viable plan,” he said. “I’ll gather everyone and we can meet in the great hall.”

Curtis looked at him. “Why not the solar downstairs?”

“Because Marius is lying on the floor, sleeping off his drink.”

Curtis waggled his eyebrows in understanding. “I see,” he said. “Does he even know his daughter is missing?”

“He does not.”

The voice came from the doorway, which was partially open. Esther stood there, and by the look on her face, it was clear she’d heard everything. As she stepped into the chamber, her gaze moved to the men in the room. Warlords that controlled England and warlords who were now facing something unimaginably difficult.

Something that frightened her to death.

“I am sorry to intrude,” she said. “But I heard that Westley had returned and I came to see him. I did not mean to listen in on a private conversation, but the door was open and I heard what you said. That my daughter is at Hell’s Forge. I feel as if I should have known she was going to do something like that. She was devastated when Westley disappeared. I should have… known.”

She looked rather sick at the idea of her daughter in mortal danger. Westley, in the process of having a few stitches put into the gash on his head, spoke up.

“We will reclaim her, Lady Ledbury,” he said. “I swear to you that I will not leave her there. I will get her back.”

Esther smiled weakly. “I know you will,” she said. “I am grateful.”

Dustin, leaving the physic to finish with Westley’s head, went to Esther. The two of them may not have always gotten along, but at this moment, Dustin didn’t feel any irritation with the woman. Only sympathy.

A kinship.

“Elysande has the de Lohr army on her side,” she said reassuringly, reaching out to take Esther’s hand. “Please do not be troubled. Soon enough, your daughter will be back in your fold. All will be well.”

Esther was trying hard to be brave. She held Dustin’s hands tightly. “I lost one child,” she said. “I could not stomach losing another. Not Ella. She has tried to be both daughter and son to Marius and me. Since her brother died, she has tried so hard to be everything. I… I never told her how much I appreciated that. I would like to have the chance to do so.”

Dustin squeezed her hands before turning her around, putting an arm around her shoulders. “She is a very good girl,” she said. “She must be very special for Westley to be so fond of her. Let’s go down to the kitchens and see to the evening meal, shall we? I fear your cook has been left to his own devices and he cooks for an army of men, not guests with more delicate stomachs.”

As Dustin took Esther away, distracting the woman from the ominous situation, the physic finished up with Westley’s head.

“I managed to clean most of the blood from your hair, my lord,” he said. “You have five stitches in your scalp, so be mindful of them. Do not get them wet. Try to keep them dry and douse them with wine once a day for the next few days to keep away the poison.”

Westley eyed the man as he gingerly touched the wounded area. “I am going to battle,” he said. “I will be wearing my helm.”

The physic shook his head. “No helm,” he said. “It will cause poison to seep into your wound before it heals.”

Westley frowned, looking at his brothers. “No helm?” he said. “I am to go into battle with my head exposed?”

The brothers shrugged to varying degrees, unwilling to go against a skilled physic. Westley stood up, still touching the wound, as Curtis pointed toward the door.

“Everyone out,” he said. “Papa must have peace, so let us leave. Myles, we’ll meet you in the great hall.”

Myles was already heading down the stairs, as was Roi. Curtis followed with Westley bringing up the rear. But instead of following his brothers to the great hall, he first retreated to Elysande’s chamber. He was in filthy, torn clothing and he wanted to clean the dirt of Hell’s Forge off him.

More than that, he simply wanted to retreat to the chamber he shared with his wife.

Just for a moment, he wanted something that reminded him of her.

The moment he walked in the door, he was hit with the smell of her. Not an unpleasant smell, but something musky and sweet. It smelled like her hair. Moving over to the bed, he found himself smelling the pillows, inhaling deeply, and tears came to his eyes. He simply couldn’t believe she would put herself in such danger for him. God, he wished he’d known what she had planned and had found a way to stop her. As he’d told his father, he’d once questioned her on whether or not she knew what courage was.

He was coming to think she did.

Maybe he did, too, in a different way.

A sound at the door startled him and he turned around to see Freddie standing there. The cousin who kept herself so scarce stood in the doorway with wide eyes, surprised to see that Westley was there. Truth be told, he’d heard a rumor that his cousin, Nicholas, had struck up a relationship with the woman, but he’d never really met her or had a chance to ask about it. When she abruptly turned to stumble out, he stopped her.

“Wait,” he said. “Freddie? Please come in. You do not have to leave.”

Freddie entered the room, but she was looking at him quite fearfully. “I… I did not know you were here,” she said. “I thought you were… gone.”

He smiled wryly. “I was,” he said. “But I am back. Now, Ella is gone. Did you know that?”

Freddie looked puzzled. “Gone?” she said. “Where did she go?”

“Then she did not tell you of her plans?”

“What plans?”

That answered his question. He simply shook his head. “I thought you would know,” he said. “Doesn’t she tell you everything?”

Freddie shrugged. “She used to,” she said. “You came and we have not really spoken. She’s been quite busy with you.”

He studied her for a moment. “And that troubles you?”

Freddie shook her head. “I am very happy for her, truly,” she said. “But may I ask you where she has gone? She did not sleep in her bed last night. I thought she might have slept with her mother.”

“Why?”

“Because she was upset that you had gone away,” she said. “When she was younger, she and Lady Ledbury were quite close. You could find Ella in her mother’s bed often.”

“Ah,” he said, learning something he didn’t know about his wife. “Nay, she did not sleep with her mother last night. She decided to do something very brave and now I must go and help her. That is, mayhap, the simplest way to describe the situation.”

He averted his gaze, his thoughts lingering on Elysande, and Freddie dared to come closer. She noticed his wounded head and the fact that he seemed exhausted. Truth be told, she had heard about Westley’s disappearance. She’d also heard that Olan had something to do with it, though no one seemed to know what it was. The rumor mill at the castle had been oddly lacking in facts this time around, but she also knew that something had happened to the Earl of Hereford. That information, too, had been kept tight. So much was happening at Massington that was confusing, now with Westley returned and Elysande missing.

Quietly, she made her way around the bed.

“What did she do?” she asked softly.

Westley looked at her, debating on what to say. He opted for the truth.

“Do you know the situation with Samson Fitz Walter of Hell’s Forge Castle?” he said. “He offered for her hand in marriage.”

Freddie nodded immediately. “He was very angry when he was denied.”

“Exactly,” Westley said. “Fitz Walter also hates my father. I disappeared because I was betrayed and given over to Fitz Walter as a hostage. When Ella discovered this, she went to Fitz Walter and offered herself in exchange for my freedom. And that was incredibly brave.”

Freddie’s features creased with worry. “Is she in danger, then?”

Westley didn’t really want to answer that, mostly because he hadn’t let his mind go to that dark place, to the extreme danger she was in.

“My father’s army is mobilizing now to go to Hell’s Forge,” he said. “I am going to retrieve my wife and burn that castle to the ground.”

Freddie pondered that declaration. It both gave her comfort and frightened her. With a sigh, she moved over to the wardrobe, which had been her original destination. There were some things that needed washing inside, and she pulled them out. But her movements were slow, her mind pensive.

“It seems that so much has happened since you arrived,” she finally said. “We live in a very small world here at Massington. It is rare that we go outside that world. Ella has always been bold and brave, but only here. Only where those who knew her could see. But now… now, it sounds as if she has been brave outside of our world.”

“Verily,” Westley said. “I am proud of her. It was a great sacrifice.”

Freddie fell silent, but only for a moment. “I do not think I have ever heard anyone say that they were proud of her,” she said softly. “When you see her next, make sure you tell her that. Ella has worked all of her life for her mother and father to be proud of her, but I do not think they ever told her that.”

Westley smiled faintly. “I will tell her when I see her.”

Freddie nodded, pleased by that. She was still carrying the dirty laundry, heading for the door, but she came to a halt as she passed the table that Elysande used to store her toilette. It was cluttered, which was typical of Elysande, and there wasn’t much on it. But there was a brush that had her hair in it.

Freddie set the laundry down.

Cleaning the hair out of the brush, she took a thread from the shift she was taking to the laundry and tied it up in a bundle. As Westley still sat on the bed, Elysande’s pillow in his hands, Freddie approached and timidly extended the hair bundle.

“Here,” she said quietly. “This is Ella’s hair. Mayhap… mayhap it will give you strength for what is to come.”

Westley looked at the hair, looked at her, and back to the hair again. Reaching out, he took it from her and held it to his nose, inhaling. From the expression on his face, it was clear that the scent of his wife meant something to him. He smiled at Freddie.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I will carry it next to my heart.”

Freddie smiled in return. “You are welcome, my lord,” she said, warmth in her eyes for the first time as they bonded over someone they mutually adored. “Now, I must go and have her shifts laundered. They will need to be clean for her return.”

Westley simply nodded, his smile fading as she collected the laundry and scampered from the chamber. Alone in the room once more, he held the bundle of hair to his nose and inhaled again, closing his eyes and drawing strength from it. Such a small thing, but so very powerful. For a marriage he’d never wanted in the first place, he was willing to do everything in his power to ensure it continued. Odd how in just a few short days, it had become the most important thing in his life.

She had become the most important thing in his life.

Lowering his head, he did something that he hadn’t done in years.

He prayed.