Page 9

CHAPTER EIGHT

“T he lady looks quite… different.”

That was Christopher talking. It was the voice of a shocked man as he watched Elle plow into some food that had been brought in for his morning meal. But when Curtis had shown up with this beautiful blonde creature with the brilliant blue eyes, she looked at the food so longingly that Christopher immediately offered it to her.

She’d taken it quickly.

“Aye, she does,” Curtis said. He was watching her eat, too. “A bath and decent clothing can do wonders.”

Christopher nodded faintly. “She’s magnificent, Curt,” he said softly. “I truly had no idea.”

“Nor did I.”

“That should make the marriage more palatable.”

Curtis looked at him. “Is that why you summoned me?”

Christopher tore his gaze away from Elle and looked at his son. “Aye,” he said. “Partially, anyway. I wanted to tell you that I’ve sent Roi into the village of Presteigne to summon a priest.”

“Why?”

“Because you are going to marry Lady Elle today,” Christopher said quietly. “There is no reason to wait, so let us get this done so I may tell Henry we have a marriage and Brython is now garrisoned for the English by my son and his Welsh wife.”

Curtis nodded in a gesture of acceptance, his gaze moving to Elle as she wolfed down some cheese. “Things are calm at the moment,” he said. “She is not unreasonable, but that is because I have been the only person she has been around since yesterday. When West brought her cousin to the tent earlier, it turned into a brawl. Nearly the same thing that happened when she saw her brother yesterday. Where is her brother, by the way?”

“I’ve sent the man back to his home of Tywyl Castle,” Christopher said. “He is about ten miles to the east, and he is your ally. I would suggest you pay him a visit at some point soon. You do not want that relationship to be neglected.”

Curtis lifted his eyebrows. “That will be a delicate situation,” he said. “The lady has no love for her brother, so to keep him as an ally will be a supreme feat of diplomacy. I do not want to anger her, but I also do not want her trying to thrash her brother every time she sees him.”

Christopher looked at his son—brilliant, strong, a truly fine example of a noble knight. He was so proud of the man that he was close to bursting every time he spoke of him. He loved his other sons, of course, and was equally proud of them for many reasons, but Curtis was his shining star. In this very volatile situation, he wanted nothing more for him than to succeed.

“If anyone can walk that fine line, it is you,” he said quietly. “But I will also make a suggestion that may help.”

“What is that?”

“I would suggest you bring Brython to a state of normalcy very quickly,” he said. “Set schedules, set posts, and get about to the repairs immediately. A sense of routine is what you need to make your vassals feel safe and as if the situation is moving forward calmly. And you must reach out to your neighbors quickly as well. Shrewsbury, Wolverhampton, Wrexham, Trelystan… All of them. They must know that Curtis de Lohr now holds Brython Castle. And it is very important that you introduce your wife as a princess of Powys. Lady Elle’s bloodlines will bring you prestige.”

Curtis eyed his father with some suspicion. “As if the de Lohr name wasn’t prestigious enough?” he said. “I am coming to think you are placing great value on your son marrying into Welsh royalty.”

Christopher shrugged. “Would you feel better if you married a miller’s daughter?”

“I would feel better if you started viewing Elle as a woman and not simply a figure of royal blood.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Curtis lowered his voice. “I mean that I have had a few conversations with her,” he said. “She views her royal blood not as you do. She had a father who ignored her and a brother who took what affection the man had. She was left to fend for herself.”

“I know that.”

“But what you don’t know is that she is bright and feels deeply about things,” Curtis said. “She is not proud that she is a daughter of Gwenwynwyn because she views the man and her brother as a traitor. Look at the way she is eating, Papa—this is a woman who has not had an easy life. She eats like that because she probably does not know where, or when, her next meal is coming. She’s never known safety or security of any kind.”

Christopher watched Elle as she chugged down a cup of watered wine. “I had a long conversation with her brother,” he said. “He told me basically the same thing. She was left to her grandmother to raise for a few years, a woman who was part of Llywelyn’s family.”

Curtis looked at him in surprise. “Are you serious?”

Christopher nodded. “The old woman evidently filled her head with poison against the English and against her own family,” he said. “Gruffydd says that Elle is intelligent and quite educated, but she has a very narrow view of the Welsh and English relationship. As Gruffydd put it, she hates the English as the church hates Lucifer.”

Curtis was listening with interest. “What else did he say?”

“That you should take care with her,” Christopher said quietly. “Caution would be prudent, at least until you come to know her better. Do not allow her any daggers, no opportunity to arm herself. Treat her like the enemy, Curt, because she is for now. You must not let your guard down.”

Curtis digested that information. He had been feeling somewhat comfortable around Elle, but his father’s words had him tensing again. He finally shook his head.

“I am marrying her, Papa,” he said. “By your command, might I remind you. I cannot go the rest of my life being wary of my wife. That will be exhausting and unfair.”

Christopher lifted a hand to ease him. “I am not saying that you must do it forever,” he said. “But the truth is that we only captured her yesterday. Everything is still new, still uncertain. Just be careful around her for the time being. She is going to have to earn your trust, just as you are going to have to earn hers. It will take time.”

That was a true statement, but Curtis was back to feeling as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to marry her.

“I have asked her to show me Brython,” he said. “I suppose I will have to keep her with me constantly for a while, at least until we start to trust one another.”

Christopher could hear the resignation in his tone. “If it is any consolation, when your mother and I were married, she fought me at every turn,” he said. “And I do mean literally. In hindsight, I wasn’t very pleasant to her, but your mother was as out of control as a wet cat. She fought with me, insulted me, disobeyed me… Everything possible she could do against me, she did. It was hell for the first few weeks of our marriage.”

Curtis cracked a smile. “Mama is the Queen of the Firebrands,” he said. “As a lad, she used to terrify me. She was so loving and sweet, but if I did something wrong, she wasn’t afraid to swat me on the behind.”

“She still isn’t.”

Curtis chuckled. “Nay, she isn’t.”

Christopher grinned alongside him. “My point is that I had to suffer with a wild woman when I first married, too,” he said. “All I can tell you is that you must be patient and understanding. You must be thoughtful. That will go a very long way. But do not let her get away with any disobedience. That is something you must never accept.”

Curtis sighed heavily. “I have a feeling that is easier said than done.”

“That is quite true.”

The conversation lagged at that point, but not uncomfortably so. Christopher went to speak to Becker, just outside the tent, while Curtis stood near the opening and watched Elle devour his father’s morning meal. He couldn’t say that speaking with his father had given him courage for what he must do, but at least he felt better informed for what he was taking on.

He hoped so, anyway.

Christopher returned to the tent.

“My army will be mobilizing today,” he told Curtis. “I am leaving you a thousand men, however, along with Myles and Asa. You already have Amaro and Hugo, so that will be three strong knights and Asa, who wants very badly to be a knight. He fights better than some men who have been doing it all their lives. And I’ll see if Sherry wants to leave Andrew with you. He could use the experience.”

He was referring to Andrew de Sherrington, Curtis’ nephew. He was still quite young, but he was an excellent warrior already. It would be good for him to be away from his father for a time, experiencing another castle, learning from men other than his father and grandfather. Curtis wasn’t opposed to having him.

“If you think it would be good for him,” he said. “I think I can use all the help I can get.”

Christopher clapped him on the shoulder. “I have complete faith in you, lad,” he said. “Now, will you tell the lady that today is her wedding day, or shall I?”

Curtis indicated Elle sitting several feet away. “You will tell her,” he said. “You are the one making the decisions, so that is your privilege.”

Taking his son’s invitation, Christopher went over to the table where Elle was licking the butter from a big, flat knife. When she saw him approach, she quickly set it down, looking at him with an expression between fear and curiosity. He smiled politely.

“Are you feeling better today, my lady?” he asked. “I see that my wife’s garment fits you.”

Elle looked down at herself, quickly brushing away a few crumbs in her lap. “It does.”

“May I tell you something about it?”

She appeared puzzled. “If you would like to, you may.”

Christopher’s sky-blue eyes glimmered. “That garment was the second dress I ever saw my wife wear many years ago,” he said. “You see, when I first met her, she was hanging from a tree, and—”

“Hanging from a tree?” Elle said, interrupting him. “A fine lady?”

He grinned. “She wasn’t a fine lady back then,” he said. “And aye—a tree. I was home from the great quest to the Levant, heading toward Lioncross Abbey Castle to claim my bride, when this woman fell out of a tree right in front of me. I remember this mass of blonde hair all over the ground as she lay there and groaned, so naturally, I took pity on her and brought her home.”

“This is the same woman you bullied into marrying you?” Elle asked.

Christopher laughed softly. “The same,” he said. “I see that you remember what I told you yesterday.”

“I do, indeed,” Elle said. “I never forget a conversation.”

Christopher shot Curtis a long look. “You would do well to remember that about your future wife,” he said, but his focus returned to Elle. “We returned to Lioncross, where I met Dustin’s mother, Lady Mary. Lady Mary was a kind, gentle creature who struggled with a daughter who was neither kind nor gentle. It was Lady Mary who forced Dustin to don the very blue dress you are wearing at our first official meeting later that day. Therefore, the garment you wear has special meaning to me and to my wife. She would be very honored that you are wearing it.”

Elle looked down at the dress, trying to see it with the sentimentality that Christopher was. “If it has special meaning, why does she not keep it with her?” she asked. “Why was it here, with you, at a battle?”

“Because she would come with me sometimes on a battle march,” he said. “That is why you have clothing to wear—she always kept some with me should she decide to attend me.”

Elle nodded, fingering the dress that had been altered slightly since Dustin had been a young lass, wild and free. She could see where seams used to be, having been let out in the slightest. She tried to picture Curtis’ mother, a blonde woman who liked to hang from trees.

“Did Lady Hereford really hang from trees?” she asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Christopher nodded. “Indeed, she did,” he said. “She was fearsome, unrestrained in a way few women are. You remind me of her, to be perfectly truthful. You led a battle yesterday, which is something she is more than capable of doing. She is fearless, and so are you, I am coming to see.”

Elle almost replied with fearless but a failure , but held her tongue. They already knew she was beaten. She knew she was beaten. There was no use in rehashing it every time it came up, and the truth was that it could have been so much worse. Hereford and his son were treating her kindly and fairly when they could have very well made her a prisoner and treated her as one. But they weren’t.

Elle was coming to be grateful for small mercies.

“I am certain I will meet her one day,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else and Christopher’s kind words had her unsettled. “I will take good care of her garment.”

“I am sure you will,” Christopher said, seeing that she was feeling awkward. “The reason I am telling you this is not to force sentimentality into the situation, but because you and Curtis are to be married today, and the dress you are wearing is most appropriate. My wife will be quite sad that she cannot be present, but your wearing her dress will give her comfort. She is here in spirit.”

Elle looked at him in astonishment. “Today?” she said. “We are being married… today ?”

Christopher nodded. “There is no reason to delay,” he said. “Henry will have his marriage, Curtis will have a new castle and a new wife, and this section of the marches shall be settled for the time being.”

Elle wasn’t over her astonishment, and she didn’t like the way he sounded so positive about the situation. As if this was a good thing. As if her entire world hadn’t just come crashing down.

In fact, it shocked her to the core.

“You speak as if this is something good,” she said, sliding from astonishment to outrage. “You speak as if all that matters is that your son will have his castle and a new wife. But what about me? I have lost everything for your son to achieve his status. I have lost my independence and my freedom, not to mention a castle I held for a solid month against mayhap the greatest warlord in England. Yet… you do not acknowledge that I had to sacrifice my entire life so your heir could have a destiny, and I find that wholly insulting.”

The warm expression faded from Christopher’s face. He glanced at Curtis to see how the man was reacting to Elle’s statement, and all he could see on his son’s face was that, perhaps, she might be right. Curtis’ only response was to lift his eyebrows at his father, which told Christopher he may have been thoughtless.

He was careful in his response.

“If I have been insensitive, forgive me,” he said quietly. “It was not my intention. Much like you, we have done a month’s worth of battle, and I suppose I am weary and eager to return home. But I realize that although you are returning home, it will be different than it was. I should have said that, and I am ashamed that I did not. But this is the nature of war, my lady. I have told you that. There are victors and there are losers. Because I did not acknowledge your sacrifice does not mean that I am unaware of it.”

Elle had to take a deep breath to calm herself. “Have you ever been on the losing side of a battle, llew ?” she asked. “Do you even know what defeat feels like?”

She had called him the Welsh word for lion. Christopher had been known throughout his adult lifetime as the Lion’s Claw, the right hand of Richard the Lionheart. A lion was even on his standard, so she knew well the man’s nickname in that pleading question.

He did not take offense.

“I have seen more than forty years of battle,” he told her. “How many years have you seen?”

That gave her some pause. “Not as many,” she said reluctantly.

Her answer caused Curtis to turn his head away lest she see him smirk as Christopher remained patient with her. “And do you think it would be fair to say that, within that time, I have lost a battle or two?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Possibly,” she said. “But I would wager not many.”

“You would be correct,” Christopher said. “But I will tell you something that I have learned in defeat, my lady. How you accept a loss is as important as you accept victory. A man—or woman—of humility in victory is a thing to be admired. The same could be said for a man or woman of defeat. I accept this victory with humility because I am grateful for it. I am grateful I accomplished my task, and I am grateful my losses were minimal. You can show humility with your grace and understanding and cooperation. No one is trying to shame you, Lady Elle. Please remember that, even if we are tactless from time to time.”

There was a rebuke in that, but it was perhaps the politest rebuke Elle had ever heard. She didn’t argue with him. She simply nodded her head. He’d been trying to tell her for two days that this was no longer her game. She was only a player in a board that someone else controlled.

It was time for her to learn that for good.

But it was still difficult for her to swallow.

“Can you tell me the worst battle you have ever lost?” she asked. “I would like to know.”

It wasn’t a flippant question. In fact, it was a very earnest one. Christopher could see that this young woman, who had fought so bravely, was trying to relate to him the only way she knew how. That was a lesson for him, in fact, to communicate with her in a way she understood. She understood hardship and battle.

Perhaps this was his opportunity to learn something about his son’s future wife.

“It was many years ago,” he said. “Curtis was not yet born. There was a battle at a castle called Tickhill. My enemy was Prince John, who had taken over Tickhill, and it was my task—and the task of the army of King Richard—to get him out. It was a very big castle with enormous walls and a tall motte. It was partially surrounded by a millpond, but on the day I remember, it had been raining horribly. The mud was so thick and deep that the chargers were in danger of breaking legs in the stuff. I remember sheets of rain and dodging the bolts that the archers were shooting from the castle walls. One, unfortunately, hit me.”

Elle was listening with interest. “You were wounded, then?”

He nodded. “I was,” he said. “It was very bad. I found my way to the edge of the field with what I thought was a mortal wound. A fellow knight found me, and because the battle was still ongoing at that point, he could not be spared to tend me. His horse had been injured, so he took mine, but he was nearing the castle, and the horse took a bolt. It fell over on him, and he drowned in the mud as my horse smothered him. I am not entirely sure what happened to me at that point because I lost consciousness and some people took me away to save my life, but days after the battle, my men found my dead horse and what they thought was my body buried beneath it. My wife, and the whole of England, was told that I was dead. She even married another man because I was not strong enough to return to her for quite some time.”

Elle was invested in the story. “That is a terrible thing,” she said. “And this was the worst battle you ever lost?”

He shook his head. “It was the battle where I lost everything,” he said. “I lost my identity, my wife, the life I knew… everything.”

“What happened to Tickhill Castle?”

“The castle surrendered at some point,” he said. “It was given back over to Richard, and John went elsewhere to wreak havoc.”

“And you were fighting for Richard the entire time?”

“The entire time.”

“I have heard that was a terrible time in English history.”

“It was.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Westley appeared in his father’s tent, dragging Melusine with him. He had her tightly by the arm. The subject at hand was quickly forgotten as Curtis, Elle, and Christopher faced the pair as they entered, but it was Curtis who spoke first.

“You have been brought back to your cousin by my good graces, my lady,” he said to Melusine. “You may stay if you can behave yourself. That means you are not to antagonize your cousin. Am I making myself clear?”

Melusine looked a little unnerved. In fact, she had a rather wild look in her eye, not at all like the woman Curtis and Elle had seen earlier.

“Aye,” she said quickly. “I understand.”

With that, she pulled from Westley’s embrace and raced to Elle, throwing her arms around the woman. It was clear she was terrified. That certainly was a change in demeanor, and Curtis suspected he knew why. He turned to Westley.

“What happened?” he asked. “What did Amaro do?”

Westley shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I found them in the bailey, below the wall walk. Amaro had her sitting against the wall, but she did not say anything, and neither did he.”

Curtis’ focus returned to Melusine for a moment. He’d had qualms about Amaro guarding her from the first, and her sudden change in behavior seemed to confirm his suspicions. He had enough trouble with Amaro and male prisoners, but now… now, he had female prisoners. One was to be his wife.

He didn’t like the future of trouble he was sensing.

That was something he didn’t need.

“Papa,” he said after a moment. “When you return to Lioncross, will you take Amaro with you?”

Christopher’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because I do not want him here.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Curtis sighed sharply. “You know why,” he said, lowering his voice. “I realize the Conde de Zidacos is a valuable ally, but his son has a wicked streak in him, and most especially with women. I will have enough trouble building trust between the lady and me without worrying about a knight who can be… unpredictable.”

Christopher knew that. The Conde de Zidacos knew it, as well. He was hoping that spending time with the English might show his son another facet of the world and help him mature past the petty, vindictive knight he’d been. Amaro was such a paradox with his strong sword yet unpredictable ways, as Curtis had said. Christopher had hoped that he, as the father of six sons himself, would be able to mold the man.

But that hadn’t happened.

Yet.

“Not now,” he said. “Keep him here with you a little while longer. You may need his sword if the Welsh decide to launch a counterattack, so I do not want to remove him yet.”

Curtis didn’t like that answer. “Then leave Roi with me.”

“I need Roi.”

“You have Sherry.”

Christopher shook his head. “I am comfortable with the way my command is structured now,” he said. “It works well.”

“But…”

Christopher held up a hand to silence him. “Just keep Amaro for a while longer, at least until we know the Welsh aren’t going to attack immediately,” he said. “Then we will speak again on the matter.”

Curtis was vastly unhappy. “If he cannot behave himself, you should send him back to his father,” he said. “He was his father’s problem until the man dumped him on you. He knew he was an issue.”

Christopher shot him a quelling look. “You are not telling me something I do not already know,” he said. “And I do not wish to speak of this any longer.”

The conversation was shut down, but Curtis had a lot more to say on the subject. He wouldn’t disobey his father. Still, it left him frustrated. He needed some air. Therefore, he went over to Elle, who was still in a clutch with Melusine, and took her by the wrist.

“Come,” he said, sounding disgruntled. “Show me Brython.”

Elle was still holding on to Melusine as Curtis pulled her toward the tent opening. “If you wish,” she said. “But are we not waiting for the priest?”

“My father will send us word when he arrives,” Curtis answered as he walked past his father, unable to look at him. “Meanwhile, you will show me my new garrison.”

Elle went with him, grasping Melusine’s hand and forcing her to follow. Christopher let them go, returning to the table that held business matters for him, including Curtis’ account of the battle that the man had given him that morning. He knew his son was upset with him and he knew why, but much like Curtis with his future wife and her brother, Christopher walked a fine line between Amaro and his father.

He had for years.

In truth, he’d done to Curtis what Amaro’s father had done to him—dumped an unruly and unethical son onto someone else. Christopher had made it seem as if it was an honor for Amaro to serve Curtis, when the truth was that Christopher simply didn’t want the man in his ranks. Now, Curtis was increasingly vocal about not wanting him in his.

Christopher was starting to wonder if the de Laraga alliance was worth it.

In the days and months to come, he would remember that thought.

*

“You mentioned that Brython is part of a prophecy,” Curtis said as he led Elle and Melusine out into the sunshine. “Where is this gate to Annwyn supposed to be?”

Melusine was clinging to Elle, walking alongside her. When Curtis came to a halt at the edge of the moat, gazing up at the enormous walls, Elle came to a halt as well, and Melusine leaned against her, laying her head on her cousin’s shoulder.

“It is in the vaults underneath the keep,” Elle said. “Much of these lands are rocky, and there are caves about. The gate to Annwyn is in a natural cave beneath the castle, but there is water. A small pond. The gate is beneath it.”

“Fascinating,” Curtis said, his gaze still on the walls. “Tell me what you know of the history of this place. All I’ve ever heard has been from my father’s scouts.”

Elle still wasn’t entirely comfortable with telling him everything about Brython, handing over something she deeply loved on a silver platter. Or silver sword, as it were. She had to force down the argument she’d presented to Christopher, how they were making it seem so easy when this was something that had gutted her to her very soul.

Her loss was their gain.

“It has been standing here for many ages,” she said. “It was built by a prince of Powys long ago who wished to build on this sacred site to protect it. It is built from the great blue stones that are found to the west, stones with magical properties, it is said.”

“Is that so?” he said as he began to walk toward the gatehouse, pulling her along by her wrist. “It seems this place was meant to be magical from the beginning.”

Elle felt as if she was walking into a tomb. A tomb of her dreams, of her life, that was. She must have slowed down, because Curtis turned to look at her, but she really didn’t know why until they reached the drawbridge that had been partially repaired so that a man, one at a time, could walk across the moat on three long planks to get to the gatehouse. Elle wasn’t looking at the drawbridge.

She was looking at the state of the gatehouse.

He was looking at her because she’d come to a stunned halt.

“This place was meant to be magical from the start,” she said, her tone soft. “My lord, I do not mean to be difficult, but the last time I was in this place, I was fighting you. I was fighting for my life. You must give me a moment to mourn what I have lost before I go in there with you. I’m simply not… ready.”

Curtis let go of her wrist. “You will have to go in there sooner or later.”

“Everyone is allowed to mourn a death. You must allow me to mourn mine.”

He looked at her a moment before turning his attention to the castle. It was in a terrible state. English were swarming over it, mostly the gatehouse and the western wall that had been so badly damaged. They had already begun repairs. However, Curtis wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to Elle’s feelings. This had been her home, and she had fought hard for it. She was looking upon her failure and having difficulty with it. But even as he thought on that, something else occurred to him.

“May I ask a question?” he said.

Her focus was on the twisted portcullis that several soldiers were trying to remove from the front of the gatehouse. “What would you ask?” she said.

He gestured to the castle. “From what you have told me, your life was not a good one,” he said. “Is that a fair statement?”

She looked at him. “You know everything,” she said. “I have told you what my life has been.”

“Then it was not a good life.”

“Nay.”

His gaze fixed on her. “Then why would you mourn a life that was not good?” he asked. “I can understand that you would mourn your dreams and goals, but to mourn a life where you only had one set of stinking clothing and did not get enough to eat? Why would you mourn such a thing?”

He had a point. Melusine lifted her head from Elle’s shoulder, looking at her cousin to see what her reaction was going to be, but Elle didn’t have an answer for him. He seemed to point out things she didn’t want to acknowledge, not even a life that hadn’t been the most comfortable or the kindest. But it was the only life she’d ever known, so the question frustrated her. Pulling her arm from Melusine’s grip, she charged toward the drawbridge.

“Then let me tell you of this terrible place that will now become your home,” she said. “Let me show you the keep where you can be comfortable. I will tell you everything you need to know so you know the quality of your prize.”

She was stomping across the drawbridge, and he motioned to Melusine to follow. He brought up the rear as the three of them passed through the gatehouse and into the bailey, which was quite vast. It was longer than it was wide, rectangular in shape, and on a slightly uphill angle. This was the first time Curtis had been inside, so he found himself looking at everything curiously. All around him were the ashes of things that had been burned, ponies that were corralled up as a few men dumped grain into buckets for them because they hadn’t been fed. All around them were remnants of a life that had been, a Welsh life, and the English were moving in to consume it.

Already, the English were putting their mark on it.

“There is no money here, but I suppose you already know that,” Elle continued, breaking into his train of thought. “We do have ponies and chickens, and you can sell them if you wish for the money, but there is nothing else of value here. Just a broken castle and broken people.”

She was verging on some kind of rage or breakdown. He could see it. Melusine hadn’t said a word so far, surprising for a woman who seemed to speak first, think second, but she was looking at her cousin with sympathy. Curtis could have addressed Elle’s comments, but he didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Not now. He was hoping they would move beyond her wild behavior, so he chose to ignore it.

For now.

“I know we cut off your water supply,” he said. “And after a month of a siege, your food supply should have been equally low. Why do you still have chickens? Why did you not eat them?”

“Because they are pets,” Melusine answered. When Elle hissed at her, she looked at the woman. “The are pets. The ponies, too. You would not let the men eat them. You told them that you would force them to eat each other before the animals.”

Curtis couldn’t help the grin that flickered on his lips as he looked at Elle. “Did you truly tell them that?” he asked.

Elle didn’t find the question humorous. “We have a garden,” she said, gesturing toward the northern section of the bailey where the keep was. There was another wall there with an arch. “There were plenty of vegetables in the stores to eat. We did not have to eat the animals, not yet.”

“We ate eggs and turnips,” Melusine said with disgust. “At least, the men did. I only saw Ellie eat the eggs and nothing more.”

“That is because the men needed the food,” Elle snapped back. “We could have made it last for another month at least. We would have held had the Saesneg not built that terrible platform, because then… then it was over.”

She was growing agitated. That wasn’t what Curtis wanted. He wanted her to show him the castle, to give him a guided tour, but he was coming to see that it was too much to ask, no matter how he or his father tried to rationalize her loss. She had asked for time to mourn what had happened, and he simply hadn’t given it to her.

He was treating her like a man.

The men he knew, the enemies he knew, were seasoned men. They accepted loss as part of the cycle of battle, but Elle clearly didn’t have that attitude. She was viewing it as a death, as having something she cared about now torn from her. It wasn’t her life she was mourning as much as it was the location—the castle. Given everything he’d been told, he understood that she was holding the castle for the Welsh. Welsh rule, a Welsh castle. No interference from the English.

But here they were.

She simply wasn’t coping.

“Come,” he said, turning on his heel. “We will return to my father. He has sent for the priest, so we must be ready. We can do this another time, when you are feeling more able.”

“Priest?” Melusine said, looking at Elle. “Why?”

Elle shook her head at the woman, simply grasping her by the arm and pulling her along. “Let us return to the tents,” she said. “I am famished. Aren’t you?”

Truthfully, Melusine was. Something was amiss, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she let Elle drag her back through the gatehouse as she followed Curtis. Truthfully, Melusine was inclined to be cooperative because she didn’t want to be separated from Elle again. She might have to return to the Spanish knight who had been rough with her. The one who had terrified her.

Nay, she didn’t want to go back to him at all.

Therefore, she kept silent.

Elle seemed to have fallen silent herself as she followed Curtis back to his father’s tent, where others were gathering. Big knights with big swords, dressed in mail that was rusting or bloodied or both. Men who had fought the battle of Brython Castle and had emerged the victors. That’s what the tent was full of—victors.

Melusine could smell it in the air.

Once inside, Elle dragged her over to the table where an empty pitcher and a platter with crumbs sat, but Curtis saw that there was nothing for the ladies to eat, so he sent a servant for something. Soon enough, they had bread and cheese and cold meat along with cold, boiled carrots and cabbage. More watered wine came also, along with more boiled eggs, and Elle and Melusine delved into the food as if they’d never seen food in their lives. There was a great deal of slurping and drinking and swallowing going on until, closer to midday, the priest finally arrived with one of Curtis’ brothers.

Then Melusine found out what the priest was for.

A marriage.