Without another word, she stepped forward and grabbed her brother’s wrist. Her grip was light, and the tug to follow after her was gentle.
Arthur knew it would take nothing for him to break free of her grip. And there was a part of him that wanted to, a part of him that wanted to simply dig his heels into the ground and refuse to follow until she explained everything.
But there was a much bigger part of him that wanted to follow her. Something was afoot, that much was clear.
When the councilmen were badgering him, he had considered every possible scenario. He’d thought that maybe someone had seen him entertaining a lass in a pub when he’d taken a bit of a break from the war. Rumors could travel like that.
Given his father’s reputation, he couldn’t blame anyone for being wary if word had spread like that. But his sister was so insistent and so convinced, and she had claimed that there were letters to back everything up.
There was much more to this story than the rumblings of the rumor mill. Arthur could feel it in his bones. And he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
So, he followed his sister without complaint or protest. Joseph’s footsteps sounded behind him, letting him know that his brother was with him as well.
How did everythin’ get so mixed up? How does everyone think I have a bride when I’ve been tryin’ nae to die for the last five years?
They traveled the familiar corridors, the comfort of home washing over him while his mind ran through what had occurred since the moment he’d walked back through the door. Slowly, the turns they made began to make sense.
“Me study?” he asked as they stopped in front of the door. “What are we doin’ at me study?”
“It’s where I left all the letters,” Ayla explained, her tone once again indicating that she thought that would be obvious. “I was certain ye’d want to read the ones that didnae make it to the camp when ye returned. So, I always brought them here.”
Sure enough, the moment she threw the door open, Arthur spotted exactly what she was talking about.
His oak desk sat in the center of the room, just as it always had. The fireplace, which he used to love lighting while he worked late into the night, sat cold. The ashes that once littered it were replaced with dust and cobwebs.
Nay one has worked in here the entire time I’ve been gone.
It was that more than anything that made the passage of time begin to weigh on his shoulders. Aside from the letters and the fireplace, it seemed like no time had passed at all.
Without them, it would almost be like the war had never happened. As if the things he’d seen, the things he’d done, had held no meaning.
Ignoring that thought, Arthur strode confidently forward and approached the desk. He stared down at the letters, eyes roving over the carefully folded parchment.
Beneath the folds, he spotted a delicate, feminine script dancing across the pages. Without giving it a second thought, he plucked one of the letters off the top and unfolded it.
Eyes skimming over the page, words began to jump out at him.
My beloved, I cannot wait for the day when we are together once more…
My dearest betrothed, I dream of the time when we are finally wed, able to live as man and wife…
My love…
My dream of us…
My hope…
My betrothed.
One after the other, Arthur read them. The platitudes and sweet words were all similar.
With each one he skimmed, the picture that had been painted for everyone else had become clear. He understood their confusion when he claimed there was no bride.
How could they not?
The words contained within these pages were so intimate, so filled with affection that if he read enough of them, they might have convinced him that he’d been mistaken. If he did not knowany better, Arthur could nearly convince himself that there was someone hewasbetrothed to and had simply forgotten about.
But he knew the truth.
