Constantine turned at the sound of his name being called and was met with the sight of a pair of the king’s personal servants. They bowed, first to him and then to Theodora.
The spokesman looked to them each in turn. “This way, if you please.”
Constantine guided Dori through the courtyard of finely dressed revelers, who parted for them most graciously as they continued to whisper in salacious delight that court seemed to become more interesting with each passing hour.
* * *
Glayer Felsteppe rode out into the London street surrounded by the king’s men, feeling as though he might simply float away into the fragrant night air with giddy pride.
It was done: Benningsgate was his.
He was a new man this night, a powerful man, and everyone knew him. Even as he had passed through the courtyard with the king’s borrowed men to secure the stragglers at the ruin’s ramshackle village, the guests milling in the king’s gardens had recognized his passing, filling the air with whispers of “the earl of Chase.”
They’d even thought enough of him to mention his exquisite—if mouthy and, thankfully, dead—bride, Theodora Rosemont.
It was good to be adored.
To celebrate, he would pause for an hour before departing the city proper in order to secure a bit of adult companionship. The court maidens were clean and proper, certainly, and made for interesting sport, but just at that moment, Glayer wished for entertainment of a more . . . toothsome nature.
Only an hour, though; he did have the time of the king’s soldiers at his beck and call to consider.
Two hours, at the very most.
* * *
Dori’s skin was a blanket of gooseflesh as the servants showed her and Constantine through the ornate double doors. The wide corridor outside the chamber was crammed with an inconceivable number of nobles, and their hot whispers seemed to swirl about her head, making her dizzy and her legs weak. In contrast, the room they entered was cavernous and cool and quiet—although it did rather smell like a barn—and Dori thought it empty until the lone voice called out from the dais.
“I didn’t think it was true.” The words had a slight echo, and Dori found herself clutching Constantine’s arm as they both looked to the right and saw the imposing figure of the king lounging in his chair, surrounded by what appeared to be a pile of furs about his feet.
Henry was wearing riding attire, his red hair lying over his shoulders, his light eyes seeming to pierce them from across the room.
Constantine gently withdrew from Dori’s grasp and walked toward the king, stopping several feet before Henry and dropping to one knee. The pile of furs rose up in points, and Dori realized they were hounds.
“My liege.”
“Well, stand up, Constantine. I must have a good look at you if I am to be convinced of your resurrection. You know the courtiers are already swooning. I had to eject them all lest they fall upon the both of you and begin cutting at your clothes and hair for relics.”
“No resurrection, my liege,” Constantine said, gaining his feet.
“No?” Henry turned his head, and Dori felt the full weight of his stare. “Surely that cannot be the case for this one. The ghost of Thurston Hold, if I’m not mistaken. Or shall I better address you as Lazarus?”
Theodora remembered herself and stepped forward, sinking into a low curtsy. “Forgive me, my liege,” she said.
“Forgive you for not being dead? Or for barging into my court?” Henry turned back to Constantine. “It takes quite a bit of courage to show yourself here, after all this time.”
“I would think you would always wish those loyal to you to come to you without fear.”
“Ah, yes—those who are loyal to me. Do you know of any such individuals, Lord Gerard? From where I am sitting, they number too few, even in my own family, both here and abroad.”
“I have always been loyal to you, my liege.”
“Is that so?” Henry goaded, abruptly sitting forward in his chair and causing the dogs at his feet to stir once more. “When you practically demanded I send you back to Syria to serve the leper, although I had yet to bring the anarchy in the farthest reaches of this land to heel? They’re not calling me castle breaker because I’ve challenged the lords to tourneys of chess. And when I indulge you, you manage to bring the whole of the Holy Land down upon your own head! Killing hundreds of Englishmen! Causing the king of Jerusalem to condemn one of my favored lords as a traitor.” He sat back against his seat once more. “Your actions reflected poorly on me, Constantine.”
“I am not guilty of the horrors accused of me,” Constantine said, his voice low and steady, and Dori knew he was trying to keep hold of his temper. “Baldwin—”
“You should have come to me!” Henry shouted
“I couldn’t!” Constantine replied, throwing out his arms. “You had employed an army of mercenaries to hunt me and my friends down and kill us for the bounties on our heads!”
