The door inched open and wide green eyes peered inside.
Surprised to see the wee lass, Patrik stepped forward. “Joneta?”
“Can you come here, Sir Patrik?”
Confused, he walked to the door, opened it wide. “Methinks it is late for you to be about.” He peered down the corridor, surprised to find it empty. “Where is your mother, lass?”
The child shifted before him. “She thinks I am abed.”
“As you should be. The hour grows late.”
“But I promised,” she rushed out.
Coldness sifted through him. “What did you promise, lass?”
Small hands lifted her blanketed doll. Joneta unwrapped the woven fabric, exposing the leather-bound writ.
Cristina had taken, then returned, the writ. What did that mean? A better question: Why had she wanted it at all? “Where did you get that?” He kept his voice light, free of anger.
“Mistress Cristina.” With a tug, the child pulled the rolled leather, held it out to him. “She said to give it to you after the bells of Vespers.”
He took the bound leather, checked. The seal upon the writ remained unbroken. Relief swept him. At least their informant within King Edward’s castle was safe, as was the news he passed. His brothers and Griffin would be relieved.
“And a fine task you have done,” Patrik said.
The girl fidgeted. “There is more.”
“More?” Hope ignited. Did Cristina await him below?
“Aye. She said to tell you that she loved you.” She leaned toward him conspiratorially. “’Tis silly as you already knew such.”
He swallowed hard. “Where is she?”
Sadness tugged the corners of her mouth. “She left.”
“The keep?”
Joneta shook her head. “Nae. This morn I watched her don a cape and go through the gatehouse with the men and women who walked alongside the wagons filled with supplies.”
“My thanks.”
The girl turned to leave. Hesitated. “Sir Patrik?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Mistress Cristina said she did not think she was coming back.”
Unable to speak, he nodded.
After a curtsy, Joneta hurried down the hall.
Heart breaking, Patrik closed the door. He dragged on his garb, ignoring the aches, the pain of moving his sore limbs. Aye, he would meet with Sir David de Moravia and give Seathan the writ, but he would not tell his brother she’d left the castle. After, he would leave to find Cristina—alone.
However much he wanted his brothers’ aid, the burden of finding her, and gaining answers concerning her interest in the writ, lay upon him.
The slap threw Emma back. The knights holding her arms prevented her from slamming to the floor. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as she pushed past the pain.
“Sir Patrik Cleary and I were caught in an English raid.” She shook her head to clear her mind, exhaustion skewing her thoughts. That same exhaustion had caused her to miss the English knights hidden within the brush. They’d easily captured her and hauled her before Sir Hugh de Cressingham. “Sir Patrik was killed.” A lie, but she hoped to be long gone before the treasurer of the English administration in Scotland discovered the truth.
