AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
Rowan returned on a horse Blanchette did not recognize. She barely recognized Rowan.
Dirt and blood covered his armor and wolf helm; he held the rein’s in one hand, his standard in the other. Blanchette stood at the castle entrance, her red riding cloak fluttering behind her. She watched in a daze as the frayed banner whipped across the dawn sky, causing the black wolf to stretch and prowl. A column of soldiers followed Rowan under the raised portcullis.
They, too, looked worse for wear. Governess Agnes stood beside her, her features drawn into tight lines. She crossed herself and shook her downcast head. “Good God. Shall the blood never stop flowing?”
Blanchette locked eyes with her governess before turning back to Rowan.
Nay… it was not Rowan who’d returned, but the Black Wolf of Norland. The sunlight glinted off the crude, blood-speckled helm. He raised the visor and commanded the strange mount to a stop. Several stable hands cut across the inner bailey to tend to Rowan and his men.
Hardly thinking or breathing, she raced out to the bailey to meet him.
He removed his helm and handed it off to his squire Jonas. In that single movement, he became Rowan again—her Rowan.
His eyes found hers and held. Her breaths came quick and thin, and she realized how terrified she’d been of his absence.
She swung her arms around his neck and held him close. The gesture took him off guard. He hesitated and stiffened against her, then pressed his hand to her back after several weightless moments. Blanchette cleared her throat and stumbled out of his arms. She felt eyes burning into her. Edrick had a look of loathing stretched across his dirt-and-ash dappled face. She returned his stare, remembering what he’d done to poor Elise.
“You may go,” Rowan said to him. “We shall speak later.”
Blanchette waited until Edrick was out of earshot. “Good God. Rowan, what happened? What happened to the village? I was worried out of my mind.”
“Were you?” Rowan gifted her with a small smile that brought a glow to his eyes. Then he sighed, looking utterly exhausted as if the weight of the kingdom lay on his shoulders. “Walk with me, Blanchette.” He offered his arm, and Blanchette graciously took it. She paused before Governess Agnes and placed her hand on her shoulder.
Moments later, Rowan and Blanchette strolled past the guards of the castle. Spring had brought life and color to the world again. Months ago, the bushes and trellises had been naked and colorless. Now, roses and violets bloomed beautifully and bright.
Rowan seemed not to see anything before him—as if he was watching something unfold inside his mind. Finally, he gazed down at Blanchette, his eyes warm yet wary. “The port village was burned to the ground. They slaughtered the people like sheep. I’d hoped I’d get there in time… but it was too late.” He hesitated, then ran an unsteady hand through his dark hair. Ash and smoke covered his cheeks, and his eyes appeared haunted. “The attackers were flying my banner. The Black Wolf.”
“What? I don’t understand?”
“Someone is against me. Someone is trying to turn Norland away from me, to drench my name in the people’s blood. Someone is slandering me and killing innocents under my banner.”
Blanchette shook her head as a creeping terror rose in her chest. “Did you see any other banners? Or sigils? Any… recognizable ornamentation?”
Rowan sighed, then absently glanced into the horizon. “No… but there was hardly time.”
He stepped closer to her—a dark and regal shadow—and bowed his head. As his hands touched her waist, she closed the distance between them and rested her cheek on his chest. She heard the beat of his heart, as wild as the wolf on his sigil. Her own heartbeat leaped in response, and she allowed herself to sink into his comforting hold.
“Is Mary safe?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, she’s fine,” she replied. “She’s with Sir Jeremy.”
He nodded and released a drawn-out sigh. One large hand slipped up her spine and came to rest at the apex of her neck. His fingers wound in her curls, and the heat of his breaths fanned her forehead.
What would they do now? she wondered. Shall the wolves never rest?
What shall we do?
And then the answer came to her, an echo from not so long ago.
Survive. We shall survive.
* * *
That afternoon dawned clear and bright. The heavy oak-and-iron door creaked in defiance as Blanchette raised the crossbar and pushed it open. The shutters were drawn inside the solar, allowing only the faintest light streams to trickle inside. Blanchette glanced behind her and into the empty corridor before slipping into her father’s quarters.
Rowan’s quarters now, her mind amended.
