Never had she seen him look more exhausted and it was the first time in her life she had seen him in his cups. At this moment, his face bore all the traces of a man who had lived a warrior’s hard life.
She approached his chair where he sat on the raised dais. “I’ll kill him!” he slurred as he focused a blood-shot gaze on her. The stench of ale almost overwhelmed her. “If it’s the last thing I ever do, I will tear down his walls and hang him from the tallest tree I can find. I’ll carve his heart out and feed it to the... the wolves....or maybe mice.” He hiccupped and looked at his favorite hound whose head rested in his lap. “What would hurt more? A mouse or a wolf? If a wolf?—”
“You need to get some sleep,” she said, interrupting his ramblings.
“I won’t sleep until you return.”
“I know,” she whispered. Never in her life had she doubted the fact that her father loved his daughters, nor the fact that he would die to protect them. She just wished he had learned to let them go.
Joanne entered the room from the small door to the right of the table. She held a large basket in her hands, and her eyes were red and bright from her tears. None of them had slept and Emily wondered if her own eyes held the same purple ring beneath them.
“I know ‘tis only a day’s ride, but still I packed you something to eat for the trip.”
Emily smiled at Joanne’s kindness as she took the basket from her. She was quite sure her sister had used her usual diligence and had prepared enough food to feed a small army. “I shall miss you terribly.”
Joanne hugged her close and Emily held on to her. She and Joanne had never been apart before. They were closer than just sisters, they were best friends. “It will be all right, Joanne, I swear it. You shall see, in a year we’ll laugh over this.”
“I hope so,” Joanne breathed. “It won’t be the same without you here.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes, but Emily refused to let them fall any more. She must be strong for her family. Though the youngest, she was the one who had always been strong for them all.
“Just think,” she said in an effort to cheer Joanne, “in a month’s time you won’t even be here to miss me. You’ll have your own household to run. Now, please, make father go to bed.”
Joanne nodded, then pulled back. Tears streamed down her face again, and she could tell her sister had passed the point of being able to speak.
Her own throat tight, Emily brushed a stray tendril of blond hair off Joanne’s temple. “May God watch over you while I’m gone.”
Joanne grabbed her hand and wailed as if her heart were breaking. Wishing she could give such rein to her emotions, Emily kissed her sister’s cheek, then gently extracted her hand. “All shall be fine, you’ll see.”
She turned to wish her father well only to discover he had finally passed out. Approaching his chair again, she touched his grisled face.
“I know you love me, Father. I never doubted it. But we are grown women and you must let us live our lives for ourselves,” she whispered. “Please forgive me for what I do. I’d never do anything to hurt you, and I hope one day you’ll understand. It’s my time now to protect you.” She brushed her lips across his forehead, then turned about and left the hall.
With a deep breath to fortify her courage, Emily made her way to the door where Alys waited, then down the stairs where her entourage waited.
One of the king’s messengers came forward to help her mount her horse.
Thanking him for the kindness, she handed her basket to Alys, then watched as her maid climbed aboard the first wagon and took a seat.
Once she was in her saddle, the messenger returned to his horse and once he mounted, they were on their way.
Lord Draven and his men were waiting for them on the other side of the gate. His helm was in place, and she found it disturbing that she couldn’t see his face.
She could, however, hear his muffled curse as he spied the three wagons behind her.
“Did you pack the entire castle?” he demanded.
“I packed what was necessary.”
Laughter rang out from the knight to the right of Lord Draven. His black surcoat bore a golden raven that was only slightly different from Lord Draven’s.
“Shut up, Simon, before I run you through,” Lord Draven snapped.
The one called Simon removed his helm and cast a glowing smile in her direction. He was every bit as handsome as Lord Draven, but his looks were entirely different. His red hair was just a shade darker than a pumpkin and his blue eyes twinkled in easy-going friendship. He wore a small, well-trimmed beard.
Kicking his horse forward, he paused by her side. “Allow me to present myself, milady,” he said charmingly. “I’m Simon of Ravenswood, brother to the ogre, and your most fervent protector for this journey.”
“Wonderful,” Lord Draven said drily. “And pray tell who will protect her from your drool? Should I have my squire fetch rags now, or should I wait until she starts to drown?”
