His eyes grew more shadowed, his mouth set in a line. “Death. Betrayal.” He drew a slow breath, turning his back on the room. “Come.”
He led her slowly down the main staircase, to the wide double doors at the base. Out in the courtyard, his men waited, with Captain Narthing, their horses, and a very pale Constable of the Watch.
“Lord Verice,” Ricard stammered
“At ease,” Lord Verice said. “Lady Warna did not know, and I neglected to tell her that the keep is forbidden to all. I failed to give her instructions in the matter. You are not to blame.”
Ricard relaxed, mumbling his thanks.
Verice gestured, and Warna handed the small lamp to Ricard. “Return that to the kitchen area, and secure that door,” he said.
Ricard bowed over the lamp.
Verice gestured again, and the huge main doors slammed shut and bolted themselves. Warna jumped at the violent sound, startled at Verice’s action. Everyone else reflected the same surprise.
“If you will join me, the evening meal is ready” Verice inclined his head to Warna. “After you’ve freshened up.”
Warna blushed, noting her tunic and trous were covered with dust and cobwebs. “Yes, m’lord.” She fled to her chamber, feeling guilty and ashamed and yet so filled with curiosity. She wanted to know more but…
Her dress was dry now, so Warna washed fast, and changed. She got the cobwebs and dust out of her hair, and braided it, all the while knowing that she’d hurt him.
Why did she feel so guilty?
He’d kidnaped her, after all, used magic on her person, imposed his will on her without so much as a ‘please’ or ‘will you’. He required no protection from her actions, needless to say.
And yet.
She cursed her stupidity, and her thoughtlessness and her idle curiosity, and wondered how she could really make amends. Such a fierce, strong warrior, and she’d wounded him by wandering into the keep. His face—
She dropped her hands into her lap and sighed. She’d no clue how to make amends, beyond the words she’d already said. She felt horrible.
Maybe she could send word that she was ill. Ask to be excused, beg off eating with him. It was true enough. Her stomach was in a knot.
But then she’d be a coward on top of it all. And there’d be the morning to face. It wasn’t going to get any easier.
One of theserving lads bowed to Warna and gestured her through the door.
Lord Verice was standing by a chair, waiting to seat her. A fire burned in his hearth, and lanterns glowed in every corner, with one set on the table besides. The other door was shut; she presumed those were his sleeping quarters.
“Good evening, Warna,” Verice said.
“Good evening, Lord Verice.” She curtsied, and sat as he eased in her chair.
“If you’d be more comfortable, I can have someone sit here in the room with us.” Verice offered.
Warna glanced back at the warrior who had escorted her to Verice’s chambers. “That’s not necessary, m’lord.”
Verice dismissed the warrior, with thanks. “I’ll leave the door open, nonetheless, lady.” He settled in his chair across the plain wooden table from her. There was the sound of running feet and clattering china outside the door. “Shush,” someone admonished, and then silence descended. A timid knock on the door frame came next.
Verice’s grimness gave way to an odd look of patience. “Enter,” he called.
A lad started across to them ever so slowly, carrying a covered dish. He placed it on the table, took a step back and bowed, before dashing off, almost colliding with the next lad, slowly making his way with a covered bowl. That brought an end to any attempt at decorum. The lads all ran in, deposited their burdens, and took off at high speed, leaving the table tottering, but no food spilled.
Warna laughed despite herself.
“They do try,” Verice said. He lifted a bottle. “I drink no wine, but for you, m’lady?”
Warna shook her head. “No, m’lord. It’s been so long, I would fear to keep my wits.”
