Princess Joanna.
“What is it, Alyse?” Joanna rose and rushed to her.
Alyse stood stock still, frozen as if in a trap. “A note from Sir Geoffrey.” Her voice seemed not her own, soft and whispery.
Lady Mary smiled and made as if to rise.
“A note from Sir Geoffrey to me,” Alyse snapped, her nerves stretched so tight her bones might crack with any movement.
Mary stopped, her eyes growing larger.
Joanna held out her hand for the parchment, and Alyse gave it to her, hardly feeling as it left her hand.
Joanna quickly opened the sheet and read the one brief line. “It is a summons, Alyse. Sir Geoffrey requires you to go to your chamber. He will meet you there.”
Dear God. Thomas is dead. Why else would Geoffrey summon me thus?
The princess stared at Alyse, her eyes compassionate as they had been in June. “I give you leave, Alyse. Attend Sir Geoffrey. Stay as long as you require.”
In a daze, Alyse bobbed a curtsy, left the chamber, and set out to wind through the corridors toward the east wing where she and Thomas had been assigned lodgings. As if in a dream, she glided down the hallway, oblivious to the sights and sounds surrounding her. A roaring in her ears stopped them to the shouting and bustle of the court. Darkness drew around her gaze until only the pathway she must walk to get to her room appeared to her. She continued to the end of the corridor then turned left into the hallway that housed her apartment.
B efore her chamber door stood the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Geoffrey. Waiting for her. Icy dread froze her veins.
Oh, God, no.
She broke and ran as though hellhounds snapped at her heels. He caught her before she crashed into him.
“Where is he? What has happened? Oh, God, Geoffrey, tell me, what has happened?” Alyse spewed questions as terror flooded through her.
He tried to draw her into his arms, but she struggled to look into his eyes, terrified of what she would find there.
“Hush, my love. He is fine. At least,” he amended, “he is not ill.”
She sagged against him. “Thank the Holy Virgin.”
“He is, however, exhausted. He has not slept since we left your chamber two days ago, even though he let me sleep a pair of hours early this morning. That is the only reason I still stand.”
Alyse glanced at his face. Dark smudges under his eyes and the haggard lines on his face attested that his duties had aged him years in a matter of days. Without thinking, she reached a hand up to smooth his cheek. “You must take care of yourself, Geoffrey. Where would we be if you were to fall ill?” How indeed would she live?
“I am fine. We have settled everyone into the manor, even though it is terribly cramped. ’Twill serve for a while, I think.” Suddenly, he bent his head and kissed her.
She tensed, tried to push him from her then stilled. His kiss held nothing of the passion they had always shared, only warmth and comfort. In need of consolation, she let go of her pent-up worries and let the kiss soothe her, cherishing the moment of closeness with the man she loved. When he raised his head, however, she frowned.
“Why did you do that?” She peered sharply into his face.
He smiled down at her sadly. “Because it may be the last time I shall be able to kiss you, my love.”
Her heart stuttered, and she clutched his arms. “What?”
He sighed and pulled her close again. “We may be safe here for a short time, Alyse, but this pestilence will find us, I have no doubt. It has apparently been raging throughout France all during the summer, and has now erupted in Bordeaux in earnest. It will not stop at the borders of Loremo.”
“No.” With that one fearful whisper, she raised her head to find him staring at her, tenderness in his eyes.
He traced one finger lovingly down her cheek. “If we could board the ships and sail immediately for Spain, mayhap we could escape. But that time has passed, I fear. Those who would sail the ships are dead, and even if they lived,
“What is it, Alyse?” Joanna rose and rushed to her.
Alyse stood stock still, frozen as if in a trap. “A note from Sir Geoffrey.” Her voice seemed not her own, soft and whispery.
Lady Mary smiled and made as if to rise.
“A note from Sir Geoffrey to me,” Alyse snapped, her nerves stretched so tight her bones might crack with any movement.
Mary stopped, her eyes growing larger.
Joanna held out her hand for the parchment, and Alyse gave it to her, hardly feeling as it left her hand.
Joanna quickly opened the sheet and read the one brief line. “It is a summons, Alyse. Sir Geoffrey requires you to go to your chamber. He will meet you there.”
Dear God. Thomas is dead. Why else would Geoffrey summon me thus?
The princess stared at Alyse, her eyes compassionate as they had been in June. “I give you leave, Alyse. Attend Sir Geoffrey. Stay as long as you require.”
In a daze, Alyse bobbed a curtsy, left the chamber, and set out to wind through the corridors toward the east wing where she and Thomas had been assigned lodgings. As if in a dream, she glided down the hallway, oblivious to the sights and sounds surrounding her. A roaring in her ears stopped them to the shouting and bustle of the court. Darkness drew around her gaze until only the pathway she must walk to get to her room appeared to her. She continued to the end of the corridor then turned left into the hallway that housed her apartment.
B efore her chamber door stood the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Geoffrey. Waiting for her. Icy dread froze her veins.
Oh, God, no.
She broke and ran as though hellhounds snapped at her heels. He caught her before she crashed into him.
“Where is he? What has happened? Oh, God, Geoffrey, tell me, what has happened?” Alyse spewed questions as terror flooded through her.
He tried to draw her into his arms, but she struggled to look into his eyes, terrified of what she would find there.
“Hush, my love. He is fine. At least,” he amended, “he is not ill.”
She sagged against him. “Thank the Holy Virgin.”
“He is, however, exhausted. He has not slept since we left your chamber two days ago, even though he let me sleep a pair of hours early this morning. That is the only reason I still stand.”
Alyse glanced at his face. Dark smudges under his eyes and the haggard lines on his face attested that his duties had aged him years in a matter of days. Without thinking, she reached a hand up to smooth his cheek. “You must take care of yourself, Geoffrey. Where would we be if you were to fall ill?” How indeed would she live?
“I am fine. We have settled everyone into the manor, even though it is terribly cramped. ’Twill serve for a while, I think.” Suddenly, he bent his head and kissed her.
She tensed, tried to push him from her then stilled. His kiss held nothing of the passion they had always shared, only warmth and comfort. In need of consolation, she let go of her pent-up worries and let the kiss soothe her, cherishing the moment of closeness with the man she loved. When he raised his head, however, she frowned.
“Why did you do that?” She peered sharply into his face.
He smiled down at her sadly. “Because it may be the last time I shall be able to kiss you, my love.”
Her heart stuttered, and she clutched his arms. “What?”
He sighed and pulled her close again. “We may be safe here for a short time, Alyse, but this pestilence will find us, I have no doubt. It has apparently been raging throughout France all during the summer, and has now erupted in Bordeaux in earnest. It will not stop at the borders of Loremo.”
“No.” With that one fearful whisper, she raised her head to find him staring at her, tenderness in his eyes.
He traced one finger lovingly down her cheek. “If we could board the ships and sail immediately for Spain, mayhap we could escape. But that time has passed, I fear. Those who would sail the ships are dead, and even if they lived,
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