“Where are they? Why aren’t they with you?”
“They’re in the chateau. Sage is with Brother Nicolas. Willow is here.” She left outsomewhere.“They are safe.”
Her father exchanged a cautious look with the other man in the black tunic, and she paused.
Raven didn’t like the look. She frowned. Something was going on. “They are safe here, aren’t they?”
Her father’s lips tightened.
“There is no time. We must leave,” the man in the black tunic said.
Raven faced him, her hands on her hips defiantly. “We are not leaving without my sisters.” Who was this irritating man? Her father would back her up. Family was the most important thing. He’d always told them that. She waited…
And waited. But her father remained quiet, and Raven finally turned to him.
He stood stoically, silent. His gaze focused intently on the other man.
“Father?” she called in disbelief.
He stared hard at the man. A muscle in his cheek clenched. “I’ll take the men and leave. You help Raven find my daughters.”
Raven’s mouth dropped and she cast the man a look of disbelief. He wore the same expression as she did. “I don’t need him. I can find them alone.”
“John,” the man protested.
Her father’s lips flattened in displeasure. “When you find your sisters, you will go to Sybil’s farm and wait for me there.”
Her teeth ground. “I don’t need—”
He ignored her, turning to the dark-haired man, who shook his head. “You will accompany her and help her find Willow and Sage. Once the girls are safely out of the chateau, you can join us.”
“John—” he began to argue.
Her father’s firm glance swung from the man to her and back. “Is that understood?” His voice boomed.
Raven had heard that tone before. It was stern, tinged with anger. That tone allowed no argument. She bobbed her head and looked down. “Yes, Father.”
“Yes, John,” the man answered.
Her father put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “See them to safety, Landyn.”
Raven scowled at the faith and friendship her father clearly had with this man. He was as tall as her father with dark hair that hung to his shoulders. There was a connection between them, one that instantly filled Raven with longing and envy. She had always wanted her father’s trust and respect. But he continued to treat her as a child. With that thought came resentment for Landyn. Who was he and how had he earned her father’s respect?
Landyn nodded.
Her father turned to her with a forceful stare. “This is Landyn of Winchester,” he told her. “I trust him completely. You will trust him also.”
She glanced at Landyn. He stared pensively at her with dark eyes. Her gaze traveled over him. His tunic clung to his shoulders and biceps, and his muscles were outlined beneath. His torso thinned at his belt where a sword was strapped about his waist. He was not a monk.
Her father took a deep breath and brushed between them, marching down the hallway.
Raven watched his retreating back, disappointment churning in her stomach. “Father!” she called.
He paused and turned to her.
She hurried after him and stopped before him. “Where are you going?”
“I have a job to complete,” he said in a gruff, exasperated voice.
