Page 8 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

“My thanks,” she said, her tone slightly stuffed from all of the crying. “Where is my son?”

“De Lohr took him back to Rochester.”

She took a deep breath, looking up into the new night sky. A million stars winked back at her.

“Such a lovely night,” she murmured. “’Tis hard to believe the night could be so lovely during a time like this.”

Tevin motioned to his men, one of whom brought around the lady’s small gray palfrey.

Cantia continued to stare up into the night as if oblivious to all else.

She was struggling to put the tears aside, struggling to conduct herself as the wife of Brac Penden would.

She finally glanced down, noticing the horse.

“If you do not mind, my lord, I would rather walk,” she said.

His eyebrows lifted. “Walk?” he repeated. “If it would not be too taxing on you.”

“Not at all. I love to walk.”

“My lord,” came a stern voice from one of the knights. “’Tis not safe to walk these roads. We must make haste back to…”

Another flick of the wrist from Tevin not only silenced the knight, but had the horse disappear.

It was blatantly clear who was in command.

Without another word, his knights spread out around them, staying to the edges of the road, in front and behind, well out of earshot of the viscount and Lady Penden.

They were silent protection for the apprehensive walk back to the castle.

During uncertain times like this, the night could harbor all manner of threats and there wasn’t one man who did not take this lightly.

To walk out in the open, with enemy conflicts all around them, bordered on the foolhardy.

But Tevin said nothing to that effect. The lady had been through enough and if walking brought her comfort, so be it. One of his men brought up his charger, a red beast with flaming eyes, but he waved the horse away. He would walk, too.

“Thank you for your kindness in arranging my husband’s funeral,” she said as their steps fell in unison along the dirt road. “I am most grateful.”

“It was the very least I could do, my lady,” he said. “Warring times are hard on us all, but not too hard that we should forget our civility and manners.”

She was silent as they continued to walk. The three-quarters moon overhead cast an eerie glow over the landscape, ghostly beams shimmering off the River Medway in the distance. It was, in fact, a lovely night .

“May I ask a question, my lord?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She started to speak but caught herself. He looked down at her to see what was causing her such difficulty.

“What is it?”

She shrugged. “I want to phrase this correctly so that you will not take offense.”

“My lady, nothing you can say would offend me. What is it?”

She looked at him, then, her lavender eyes haunting in the moonlight. “If I ask you this question, will you promise me a completely truthful answer, my lord?”

“I am always truthful.”

She cocked her head slightly as if debating the validity of that statement. “Very well,” she said. “This is something I must ask, for my own sake. I fear that I have been lied to in order to spare my feelings.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I want to know of my husband’s last moments. And I do not want to be spared any detail. Were you with him when he died?”

Tevin hadn’t expected that question, but he wasn’t surprised by it. “I was, my lady.”

Her lovely features tightened. “Then you spoke to him before… before he passed on?”

“I did, my lady.”

Her jaw began to tick and her expression turned to one of frustration, sorrow.

“Perhaps I am being foolish, my lord, but one of my biggest regrets is the fact that I did not have a chance to say farewell to my husband before he died. Certainly, I saw him off from the castle the day of the engagement, but I was not at his side when he died and….” Her lower lip began to tremble and she wrestled for her composure yet again.

“You were there when he died. Perhaps you can tell me how he looked, what he said. To hear it from you would be to have been there.”

Tevin didn’t dare look at her. He could feel himself folding like an idiot, succumbing to both her tears and her wishes.

Usually he was far more resolute, a paragon of strength when all else around him crumbled.

But there was something inanely pathetic and touching about Lady Penden and he could not help himself.

“My lady,” he said after a moment. “This has been a trying day. Perhaps this is something we should discuss at a later time.”

She shook her head, firmly. “Nay, my lord. I would discuss it now. I… I cannot explain why I must know this, but I believe I must hear it in order to overcome my sorrow. Or at least deal with it. As it is, everything feels open and hanging and… meaningless. Will you not tell me?”

He thought a moment, looking off into the night, mulling over the intelligence of such a move on his part. He tried to phrase it as delicately as he could, as honestly as he could.

“As we were riding up on the Dartford Crossing, we were ambushed,” he said quietly.

“I do not believe there were many men, just enough to do damage. They stayed to the trees and fled once their arrows had been fired. Brac took two arrows right away, both to the chest. But he stayed mounted, giving orders and following his men into the woods. By the time he reached the perimeter of the trees, the enemy unleashed another barrage of arrows and he was struck in the belly. That one was enough to topple him from his horse, and that was where we caught up to him.”

Cantia remained silent, staring at the ground as they walked. When she did not reply, he continued.

“It was clear that his wounds were mortal,” his voice grew softer.

“Myles was the first one to him, with the rest of us close behind. He tried to remove the arrows, but Brac would not let him. He knew it was hopeless and did not want to waste the energy fighting the inevitable. When it was evident that his time was short, Myles collected him into his arms and called him brother. We reaffirmed our love and respect for him. Brac spoke of the greatness of England he would never live to see, and of the beautiful wife and son he would leave behind.”

She emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but she held her ground. “I know all of that,” she said hoarsely. “Were the wounds painful?”

“He was shot in the chest and in the belly. I would imagine so.”

“Was it really hopeless? Had he allowed Myles to remove the arrows, do you think he would have lived?”

Tevin came to a halt, facing her in the moonlight. She was an exquisite creature, even in the dark. “Nay, my lady, I do not,” he said quietly. “The wounds were mortal the minute the arrows pierced him. There was never any chance.”

She gazed at him, steadily, her lavender eyes filled with tears. “Tell me the truth,” she whispered. “Was it horrible? Did he suffer greatly?”

Tevin stared at her. He should have stopped himself from telling her, but he didn’t. Until the day he died, he did not know why he simply didn’t shut his mouth. “It was horrible.”

She sobbed and the tears fell. Filled with remorse at his lack of control, he reached out to grasp her arm in a comforting gesture. But she shook her head sharply and pulled away before he could touch her.

“Nay,” she whispered. “I… I am all right. I will be fine. Thank you for telling me the truth. It means a great deal.”

He watched her resume her walk down the road. With a heavy heart, he followed.