guilty for such emotions but she couldn’t manage to feel that way.
All she could feel at the moment was utter devastation at what had happened and the fear of an unknown future. All of it, thanks to de Wolfe. He rode silently behind her, his big right arm around her torso to steady them both on the saddle, but since leaving the priory, he’d not said a word to her. She hadn’t said a word to him, either, so they traveled together in tense and terrible silence.
It made for an uncomfortable ride until sunset when clouds rolled in and the winds increased, and Kathalin was so cold that her lips were blue. De Wolfe hadn’t noticed because of her position in front of him and, with layers of protection between her body and his, he couldn’t feel her trembling with the cold. Only when the other knight, a burly beast of man with a great brown beard who had been introduced as Stephan d’Avignon, pointed out the fact that the lady was cold did de Wolfe react. He had someone bring him a rain cloak because it was really all they had and while he held her steady, the bear-like knight covered her up adequately with it.
The cloak hadn’t provided much warmth but it had at least provided protection against the cold winds. Exhausted, and distraught, Kathalin continued to ride in cold silence, refusing to utter a sound, well into the night until they reached the large village of Craven Arms where de Wolfe sent d’Avignon to secure lodgings for the night. As de Wolfe wait with a half-frozen woman and his escort on the edge of town, the burly knight returned within an hour to inform them that he had secured two rooms in a tavern and that he’d also found a livery for the men to sleep in, which they gladly did.
The warm haven of the tavern turned out to be a nightmare.
Unfortunately, the establishment was very loud, smelly, and full of people nearly all night long and the two rooms the knight had secured were nothing more than small chambers off the kitchen that the servants usually slept in. The tavern keeper had rented them out, however, with the lure of money to make, so Kathalin and de Wolfe crammed into one room whilst d’Avignon took the second room.
It made an awkward situation worse when Kathalin realized de Wolfe intended to sleep in the same chamber with her even though he politely yet professionally informed her that it was simply to prevent her from escaping.
Frustrated and fighting off tears, Kathalin refused to lay on the bed at all, embarrassed at the impropriety of it. De Wolfe, seeing how distressed she was, untied her hands and allowed her to relieve herself and stretch her muscles, but he didn’t trust the woman and ended up tying her to the only chair in the chamber because she wouldn’t lie down on the bed. Kathalin’s first night away from St. Milburga’s was spent trussed up to a broken chair.
It was a barbaric situation to say the least. Kathalin wept quietly most of the night, knowing that de Wolfe was watching her but hardly caring. She was so distraught and drained that she could hardly think straight. But she fell asleep at some point because de Wolfe woke her up before sunrise to ask her if she was hungry. Kathalin simply shook her head and looked away, unwilling to speak with him in any fashion, so de Wolfe untied her long enough to allow her to relieve herself again but the ropes went back on before they continued on their journey.
Hate.
That was all she could manage to feel for the man and the next day of travel was even more miserable. Kathalin only had the rain cloak for protection, wearing the same uncomfortable brown wool she had been wearing when Gates hauled her out of the priory and even though the wool was warm, it wasn’t enough against the icy temperatures.
Wrapped up in the cloak, d’Avignon had put her on Gates’ horse, seated behind the man this time, but her hands were still bound and Gates held the end of the rope in case she decided to jump off and run. She wouldn’t go
All she could feel at the moment was utter devastation at what had happened and the fear of an unknown future. All of it, thanks to de Wolfe. He rode silently behind her, his big right arm around her torso to steady them both on the saddle, but since leaving the priory, he’d not said a word to her. She hadn’t said a word to him, either, so they traveled together in tense and terrible silence.
It made for an uncomfortable ride until sunset when clouds rolled in and the winds increased, and Kathalin was so cold that her lips were blue. De Wolfe hadn’t noticed because of her position in front of him and, with layers of protection between her body and his, he couldn’t feel her trembling with the cold. Only when the other knight, a burly beast of man with a great brown beard who had been introduced as Stephan d’Avignon, pointed out the fact that the lady was cold did de Wolfe react. He had someone bring him a rain cloak because it was really all they had and while he held her steady, the bear-like knight covered her up adequately with it.
The cloak hadn’t provided much warmth but it had at least provided protection against the cold winds. Exhausted, and distraught, Kathalin continued to ride in cold silence, refusing to utter a sound, well into the night until they reached the large village of Craven Arms where de Wolfe sent d’Avignon to secure lodgings for the night. As de Wolfe wait with a half-frozen woman and his escort on the edge of town, the burly knight returned within an hour to inform them that he had secured two rooms in a tavern and that he’d also found a livery for the men to sleep in, which they gladly did.
The warm haven of the tavern turned out to be a nightmare.
Unfortunately, the establishment was very loud, smelly, and full of people nearly all night long and the two rooms the knight had secured were nothing more than small chambers off the kitchen that the servants usually slept in. The tavern keeper had rented them out, however, with the lure of money to make, so Kathalin and de Wolfe crammed into one room whilst d’Avignon took the second room.
It made an awkward situation worse when Kathalin realized de Wolfe intended to sleep in the same chamber with her even though he politely yet professionally informed her that it was simply to prevent her from escaping.
Frustrated and fighting off tears, Kathalin refused to lay on the bed at all, embarrassed at the impropriety of it. De Wolfe, seeing how distressed she was, untied her hands and allowed her to relieve herself and stretch her muscles, but he didn’t trust the woman and ended up tying her to the only chair in the chamber because she wouldn’t lie down on the bed. Kathalin’s first night away from St. Milburga’s was spent trussed up to a broken chair.
It was a barbaric situation to say the least. Kathalin wept quietly most of the night, knowing that de Wolfe was watching her but hardly caring. She was so distraught and drained that she could hardly think straight. But she fell asleep at some point because de Wolfe woke her up before sunrise to ask her if she was hungry. Kathalin simply shook her head and looked away, unwilling to speak with him in any fashion, so de Wolfe untied her long enough to allow her to relieve herself again but the ropes went back on before they continued on their journey.
Hate.
That was all she could manage to feel for the man and the next day of travel was even more miserable. Kathalin only had the rain cloak for protection, wearing the same uncomfortable brown wool she had been wearing when Gates hauled her out of the priory and even though the wool was warm, it wasn’t enough against the icy temperatures.
Wrapped up in the cloak, d’Avignon had put her on Gates’ horse, seated behind the man this time, but her hands were still bound and Gates held the end of the rope in case she decided to jump off and run. She wouldn’t go
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