Shana Abe (39 page)

Damon was just going to have to learn that she would not stand to be coddled, she decided. She was not a child. She had already lived a lifetime, it felt, of having her every move scrutinized when she had been under Redmond’s rule. She was heartily sick of it.

Before she had left Du Clar she had made a silent vow to never submit to such control again, and the fact that—quite the opposite of Redmond—Damon meant well did not negate the element of control he still tried to exert over her.

Out of consideration for the men, she never tried to outrun her accompaniment; she had no wish to bring the wrath of her husband down upon their heads should she actually manage to escape them. But it irked her, this constant vigilance, and in her irritation she convinced herself that everyone was overreacting, that even the wild boar had not existed, that it had been naught but the wind through the trees that had spooked the dogs.…

Solange felt an exuberance and daring she had not
recalled since her youth. It meant she retired each night with a smile that lasted until she lay down in Damon’s bed alone.

Nights were the hardest, she decided, for there were no distractions from the fact that he was not lying beside her, kissing her, making love to her. At night she often spent hours staring up at the ceiling, over at the herb rack, out the window at the midnight sky. Sleep would woo her eventually, but never quickly enough. He will be back soon, she told herself. Very soon. Every day that passes is a day less I have to wait.

This night was no different from the others, except a light snow had begun to fall outside, dusting the landscape with an icy frosting. She arrived in the room after supper, weary from the day, yet wide awake, wondering what Damon was doing now. Was he on his way back? Was he warm? Was he safe?

The weaponry mounted on the far wall gleamed with a metallic dullness against the stone. Each lance, each sword, each lethal piece, gave mute testimony to the years her husband had endured without her. He was a knight, he was a skilled warrior. She should not be worrying about him like a mother hound over her pups.

She walked over and touched a finger against the sharpness of a morning star, noting the scratches on the iron, each pit in the metal representing a returned blow.

He had endured all this. Surely he could endure such a routine thing as a small journey from castle to castle. She was fretting over nothing.

A quiet knocking came on the door to her chamber. By the time she walked back to her room to answer it,
it had grown to a rapid pounding, and a woman’s voice was calling her name. Solange swung open the door.

It was Carolyn. Anxiety was etched across her face. “My lady,” she began, and had to take a gulp of air.

“What is it?” asked Solange, drawing her into the room. “Calm down. Tell me the matter.” A dreadful thought took her. “Is it the marquess? Did something happen to him?”

“No, my lady. It’s William!” she blurted out. “He is missing from his bed. I cannot find him anywhere.”

“Missing?”

“Aye! Oh, my lady, I am so worried for him! He is so small, you see, and so—” A sob caught in her throat.

“Who else knows?” Solange was thinking quickly.

“His nurse, a few of the other mothers. I went to them first, thinking maybe he went to play with one of his friends.” Carolyn grasped Solange’s hands. “What if he is hurt? What if he has fallen somewhere and he can’t—”

“Carolyn, stop imagining things. We’re going to find William. I want you to go get Mairi, tell her to gather the other women and form a search pattern in the castle, do you understand?”

“A search pattern,” Carolyn repeated gratefully.

“Mairi will know what to do. I am going to get the men. They will search outside. Now, go. Go quickly.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Yet she stood still, as if frozen.

Solange gave her a brief hug. “We will find him, never you fear.”

The other woman smiled tightly, and then she was gone.

Solange roused Aiden and quickly explained the situation to him. “We don’t know how far he could have gotten, since we don’t know how long he has been gone. But I think the first place to look would be the field by the woods, where the orchard is going to be. William liked to go there.”

Aiden slung his cloak over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, my lady. We’ll take care of it.” He led the pack of men outside and began issuing instructions.

Solange began to climb the stairs to locate the other women and help them. Something was bothering her. She had forgotten something important. Something …

A cherry tree
, William had said to her.

A magic tree
, she had told him.
Your own magic tree, growing out in the old orchard
 …

“Fool, fool,” she cursed herself under her breath. He had been asking her for weeks to take him there, and she had not, because there had been no time for it, and then she had not been able to leave. In a heartbeat she weighed the option of running up to find the other women and tell them where she was going, or just saving time and going.

She had grabbed someone’s cloak from the hall and was already out the door before the thought could complete itself; the vague notion of finding the men and telling them instead trailed away completely when she couldn’t immediately see any of them.

The old orchard was not near the field. It was in the opposite direction, and the snowy wind that grabbed her borrowed cloak convinced her not to waste the
time to hunt them down. Either the boy was there or he wasn’t. If he wasn’t, she would run back and tell them to search the area more thoroughly.

She ran along the old stone walls of Wolfhaven with both hands holding up her skirts, ducking her head against the flakes that drifted down into her eyes.

The woods were dark and silent when she arrived, and there was no answer to her calls. There was hardly any light to see by. Cursing herself again for not thinking to bring a lamp or even a candle, she wove her way through the old bent branches, black with wetness, to the spot where she had found the cherry sapling.

William was not there. There were no little footprints in the new fallen snow to indicate that he had been there at all. The sapling stood untouched between the massive old trees, lightly covered with virgin snow.

Solange hugged her arms around herself and stood up from examining the little tree. “William!” she called, more out of repetition than hope. She looked around blindly. “William!”

A sound reached her, the smallest of sounds, from off to her left. She blinked against the snow, and called out the name again, then paused, listening.

“Lady …” came the whimper.

“William!” She ran a few steps, then stopped, listening again. “Call to me again, William!”

“Lady.” The voice was stronger now, or perhaps just nearer. Solange wiped the gathering snow off her hair and listened again, taking cautious steps in what she hoped was the right direction.

She almost missed him, the little lump huddled beneath
the limbs of a dead tree. “Here,” he cried, when she had walked past him, and she picked him up and kissed his cheek, then hugged him close with all her might.

“Willie, what were you doing out here?” she cried in mingled anger and relief, brushing the snow off him.

“My t-t-tree,” he chattered through frozen lips. “M-magic tree.”

“You should have waited for me to take you there.” Guilt and remorse filled her.

“I’m s-sorry.” The little boy began to cry. “I got l-lost. I got s-s-scared.”

“No, no, it’s all right, my sweet. Don’t cry. I’m not mad at you. But I’ve got to get you home. You’re chilled to the bone.” She settled him on her hip, wrapped the cloak around them both, then set about finding her directions again.

“Wait,” William said against her neck. “M-my cane.” Without letting go of the child, she knelt down and searched the snow with one hand until she came across the smooth outline of it. “I have it now, don’t worry.”

He wasn’t too heavy, but the cold was beginning to affect her. The snow abruptly stopped, which helped her to see, at least, where she was headed. Willam had gone limp with his head tucked down between her jaw and her shoulder, a trusting little life in her arms she suddenly felt fiercely protective of.

“Don’t worry,” she repeated between heavy breaths. “Don’t worry.”

But it seemed much longer on the way back than it had going. It was more difficult dodging the outstretched branches that snatched at her hair and pulled
at her clothing. She was fairly certain she was headed in the right direction. Eventually she found the path of her own footprints that led into the woods, and followed them with relief. William stirred beneath her chin.

Behind her came the sharp snapping sound of a twig breaking, which ceased as soon as she stopped walking.

She waited in the darkness, clutching the boy close. She heard only silence.

Solange swallowed her fear and went forward again, walking as lightly as she could. Was that another noise behind her, that ghostly breathing, almost like laughter? She stopped, and so did the sounds.

William was looking up at her fearfully; he had heard them too. She forced herself calmly to start walking again, trying to hear how close the sounds were behind her. She imagined she had a good twenty feet.

It wasn’t nearly enough for her to escape. But it would have to do for William.

“My gracious,” she said in a bright, clear voice. “You are a growing lad. I think I’m going to have to let you walk on your own.”

She knelt, putting him down carefully, and handed him his cane. “That’s better,” she said loudly as she rapidly removed her cloak and bundled it around him. Then, in a whisper: “Follow the trail, Willie, do you see it? Follow that trail as fast as you can, and it will take you back home.”

“But—”

“Do as I say! You must be brave, William, and tell the others that I am coming right after you. Hurry!” Behind her, the silence waited.

She stood up. “Go. I am depending upon you.”

Her heart squeezed as she watched the little figure limp away, the cloak trailing ridiculously behind him.

God keep you, she thought, then turned around and walked back into the darkness of the orchard.

She made an effort not to follow the original path exactly, but wavered slightly off course, as if she were confused. It would buy William a few minutes more, not much, but hopefully enough to get him within sight of one of the searchers.

The loss of the cloak brought the wind more sharply to her, but she paid scant attention to this discomfort. She was listening as hard as she could, waiting for the sounds she had heard before to begin again.

When she paused to free her hair from a grasping branch, she caught the echo of the sounds, then they faded away as she freed herself and moved forward again.

The game continued until she was almost back at the sapling. It has to be enough time, she thought, it has to. I cannot wait any longer.

Neither could he.

“Good eve to you, my angel,” came the familiar mellow voice. He stepped out of the shadows and walked slowly over to her, both hands outstretched to show them empty.

She said nothing in reply. There were no words to be said, they were smothered by the emotions. Fear. Anger. Wild, irrational fear.

There had been no boar, after all, no, not at all.…

“You took a foolish risk to come back into the
woods alone.” Redmond gave her his wide, handsome smile. “Why, what if it had been wolves trailing you?”

“Wolves would not hurt me,” she said. “I know the sound of vermin when I hear it.”

Anger slashed across his face and was gone. The smile stayed as wide as ever. “As much as I look forward to conversing with you over the habits of certain animals, I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time for it now.” His eyes flicked over her shoulder.

She felt the movement in the air behind her but didn’t turn, so the blow was clean to the back of her head, and she crumpled gracefully to the ground.

I
t was their secret place. None of the adults knew they were there, and so her laughter had a ring of freedom and joy. She waved her fist about her face teasingly
.

Damon was yelling at her, reaching for her. No, no, he said, but he leapt at her and missed, she was too fast for him, for all of them, even when she was laughing so hard
.

No, Solange, stop it right now, he cried to her, and with the quickness of a cat he was up again, knocking her hand aside with all the force that three extra years over her gave him
.

Belatedly she realized it was no longer a game, he was not playing with her, he was yelling
.

He was yelling at her, but she was watching her hand open up from the impact of his, watching the small yellow berries fall harmlessly out of her palm and into the green, green grass.…