Avalyn eyed him. “My lord, if we are at the Tower as you have said, then that will not be necessary. I know my way.”
Brogan had nothing more to say. He didn’t even look at St. Alban for silent suggestions on how to handle this. He merely crossed his arms and stepped back as the lady regained her equilibrium. Thel brought her a wooden cup filled with warm mutton broth, but the lady shook her head.
“Please,” she said. “I simply want my clothes so that I may leave. I do not want to trouble you good people further.”
“Your clothes are wet, my lady,” Thel said.
Avalyn looked at her, something of frustration and apprehension in her expression. She grasped at the garment she was currently wearing. “Then whose gown is this?” she asked quietly.
“Mine, my lady.”
“Then I shall send it back to you.”
It was all she intended to say. There was no question of her determination to leave. Barefoot, she staggered across the floor towards the door. Brogan watched her go until he heard St. Alban hissing at him.
“Go with her,” the old man whispered loudly.
Brogan’s icy gaze lingered on the old man a moment before slowly, deliberately, doing as he was bade. He followed the lady out of the chamber and down the stairs.
It was cold, dark, and quiet on the first floor. Most occupants had long since gone to sleep. Avalyn could hear the enormous warrior’s footfalls behind her, stalking her, and it only served to fuel the panic she had been so adept in controlling.
Her head was clear by now. Her feet were freezing and she didn’t feel very well, but she picked up the pace until she found a door that led from the maze of chambers. Once out into the courtyard, she could see clearly where she was; she was indeed at the Tower of London. The cluster of towers and buildingscreated one of the busiest and most populated palaces in the world. The sheer scope and craftsmanship of the complex was overwhelming.
Over head, the moon was barely above the horizon, indicative of the late hour. Avalyn knew that people would be worried over her disappearance. Gathering the soft wool garment about her, she walked very quickly towards the Beauchamp Tower at the opposite side of the compound. Behind her, she could no longer hear footfalls. She dared to glance over her shoulder, noticing that the massive man had finally left her. When she returned her focus to the path ahead, an enormous body was blocking her path.
Avalyn shrieked in surprise, seeing through the soft moonlight that it was the frightening warrior. She had never even heard him move around her; his skills of stealth were uncanny. She was terrified.
“If you come any closer to me, I shall scream,” she backed away.
He didn’t move. “May I say something, my lady?”
She regarded him fearfully. “What… what would you say?”
She heard him sigh. It seemed a strange gesture coming from so intimidating a man. “I found you in the river this night. I pulled you from the water so that you would not drown, and I took you back to my chamber to take care of you. Now you run off into the dark night, with no shoes, no protection, and you would expect me not to see to your safety.” His head wagged back and forth, slowly. “What kind of man would you think I am to save you from the river and not make sure you returned to your husband safe and whole?”
“I am not married.”
“To your family, then.”
He had a point. If he’d wanted to do her harm, he’d had ample opportunity. Some of her fear began to dissipate and she studied his features in the soft gray light.
“Then I apologize if I have insulted your integrity,” she said quietly. “I do not even know your name.”
“Brogan d’Aurilliac.”
Avalyn had heard that name before. She’d heard her uncle speak of it, a name to be uttered only in the softest tones. She had never paid any attention to the meaning behind the name. Now she wished she had.
She moved towards him in the darkness, her size diminutive against his sheer bulk. Standing next to him, she barely came to his chest. Avalyn was petite even by normal standards, but next to Brogan, she appeared no larger than a child. Calming somewhat now that she was fairly certain he was not going to gut her, she studied him intently.
“I’ve heard your name before.”
He didn’t react but to slightly cock his head. “Perhaps you have.”
“Where are you from?”
“Germania.”
“Have you been in England long?”
