While Angels Slept by Kathryn Le Veque

I cannot get in.”
    Tevin did not
understand why that was so urgent, but he moved around the woman and took the
stairs to the next level. There was a small landing and two doors; one was open,
with a small bed inside and toys strewn about. A big yellow dog lay sleeping on
the bed. Tevin tried to lift the latch of the second door, which was indeed
locked.
    “She never locks
her door,” the worried servant was behind him. “She was weeping this morn… I am
afraid for her, my lord. She’s not been right since the lord passed.”
    That was Tevin’s
first inkling as to why the servant seemed to be so worried. It also clarified
the boy’s statement of the mother’s door being locked. He rattled the door
latch.
    “Lady Penden?”
he called softly. “Please open the door. We have a good deal of wounded that
require your attention.”
    He received no
reply. Rattling the lock once more, he again spoke softly, asking her to come
forth. Still no answer. When the servant began to whine with fear, he took
action. There was no time for pensive ponderings or sweet pleas. Something was
wrong. Even if there was not, the lady was required in the hall and he would
not tolerate her stubbornness.
    Tevin was a
broad man; though his may not have possessed the lanky height that Brac had, he
was nearly twice as wide. The width of his shoulders was the first thing anyone
noticed about him. Lowering a massive shoulder, he took a large lead before
ramming the left side of his body into the door. The panel creaked and shook,
but remained fast. Standing back, he lashed out an enormous booted foot and
kicked the latch. The iron twisted. With another kick, it bent further and
splintered the wood around it. Tevin gave one last kick, with a grunt this
time, and the door swung open.
    The room was
large and cluttered, but comfortable. Tevin’s dark eyes darted around the room
in search of the lady, finally coming to rest on a titian-colored head on the
opposite side of the bed. He rounded the furniture, seeing that Lady Penden was
sitting upright on the floor, leaning against the bed. Her head was down,
staring at her lap. She was unmoving, like stone.
    That was enough
for Tevin; with a growl, he chased the vexed servant from the room. He did not
want anyone else to view the scene.
    When the damaged
door slammed shut and they were alone, he knelt beside her, trying to assess her
state. With all of his other worries, he could have easily become angry that
she had added to them. But all he could manage to feel at the moment was
extreme concern.
    “My lady?” he
said quietly. “Can you hear me?”
    Her luscious
reddish-brown head bobbed slightly. Her hair was askew, covering her features.
“Are you injured?” he asked gently.
    After an eternal
pause, she shook her head sluggishly. “I could not do it.”
    He barely heard
her. “Do what?”
    Her head came up
then, the lavender eyes red from crying.  There was such pain in the cool
depths that it literally reached out to strike him. Then he noticed the dagger
in her hand. Tevin gazed back at her, realizing what she meant, feeling more
horror and guilt that he had ever imagined possible. He reached down and tossed
the dagger to the other side of the room. An examination of her wrists showed
that she had slightly cut herself across one of them, hardly enough to draw
blood. But the intent was obvious.
    “No, no…,” he
murmured. His self-control, fed by his emotions, left him and he encircled her
in his massive arms. “No, my lady, not like this. You will not meet your end
like this.”
    She was tense in
his embrace, stiff as he held her. But after a moment, it was as if all of the
sorrow and confusion she was feeling suddenly vanished when she realized that
warm, comforting arms held her. Her arms went around his neck and horrid, deep
sobs bubbled out of her chest. Tevin held her so tightly that he was sure he
was crushing her. He felt so horribly guilty that this woman felt she had no
hope, no