Sadness touched the duke’s face. “I had planned on informing you the evening after you had become a squire.”
The day he’d killed his brother. After a desperate search for Léod in the river, Thomas had run to the castle. Frantic with the news, everyone had joined the search. With the last rays of the sun fading from the sky, they’d found his brother’s body downstream, bloodied and shoved against the rocks.
“After”—his father’s throat worked—“’twas nae the time for such news.”
Guilt piled atop the already immense amount. The following day they’d spent burying his brother.
“Then you approached me about entering the monastery.” The duke’s eyes dark with anguish held his. “I cursed your self-condemnation, but you wouldna listen to anything I said. When you requested to become a monk, with the monastery but a half-day’s ride from Dair Castle, once a month or so had passed, I had planned to visit and tell you the truth.”
“Except when you arrived,” Thomas said, the blackened memories rolling through him. “you discovered that I had left.”
His father gave a weak nod. “I didna know where you had gone.”
Thomas glanced at Brother Nicholai.
“I swore that I would never share your destination,” his friend said.
Like the wind removed from his sails, Thomas sagged back, pondered his next move.
Shrewd eyes held his. “I would think,” the duke said, “you would be pleased to know of my loyalty to Robert Bruce’s grandfather, one that has transferred to our king.”
He was, except his allegiance complicated everything. ’Twas simpler when his father supported the enemy, a solid reason why he must remain away. Now he had naught but the guilt of his brother’s death.
“The news is a relief,” Thomas admitted, “but it changes little.”
The strain on his father’s face softened. “It changes everything.”
If ’twas only so easy.
The duke faced the monk. “I will be taking my son home.”
“God’s teeth,” Thomas hissed. “What of Lord Comyn’s men?”
“A simple enough task,” his father said. “I will ride to Dair Castle and return with a contingent of men for an escort.” He faced Alesone. “Mistress Alesone, as my son is charged with your safety, you will accompany us and, if you wish, care for him until he is healed.”
* * *
Alesone held the noble’s gaze, moved by his love for his son, saddened how Thomas’s replies exposed that he remained mired in guilt. “I thank you, Your Grace, I am honored to be your guest.”
Panic flickered into Thomas’s eyes. “Your intervention is unnecessary. I am receiving proper care here.”
“You will go,” the duke said with quiet authority. He turned on his heel and strode out.
The monk followed.
Flames flickered in the hearth as the soft thud of the door echoed in the chamber.
On unsteady legs, she walked to the chair.
“You havena broken your fast this day,” Thomas said, his voice ice, “a task you should see to.”
Alesone arched her brow in defiance.
“I wish to be alone.”
She sat. “Why do you push your father away?”
“You dinna understand what happened.”
