sobs. A man was yelling, anger and hatred clear in his voice, and the noise of other people shouting was getting closer.
I jumped to my feet, clutching the cloak to my chest. Something horrible had happened in the next room and I had an urgent need to get out of here. Heart beating so fast I thought it in danger of leaping out of my chest, I moved towards the door. Roman stopped me with one hand, palm held up and I was too scared of him to disobey. He put a finger to his lips and I nodded my understanding. Looks like he didn’t want to be discovered any more than I did. I would save that piece of information for later and tamped down my fear of him as best I could; we appeared to be in this together for the time being, and he hadn’t hurt me: yet. I deliberately pushed the thought of sharp teeth and my bitten neck to the back of my mind. Anyway, I was fairly sure that he would stop me if I tried to get past him so I really had no option other than to stay quiet and remain in the room.
Roman had braced his body against the door , but as the noises ceased, he relaxed slightly. That terrible tension left him, though he remained alert. He waited several minutes then cautiously cracked the door open a few inches and risked a quick look outside, checking the passageway.
‘Wait,’ he commanded and slipped noiselessly outside, closing the door behind him. I waited and waited and eventually he returned, calling softly before he came in the room, letting me know it was him. Lucky he did, considering I had been hiding behind the door with a large log from the stack next to the fireplace in my hand, ready to brain the first person who walked in the door.
‘We need to leave. Now,’ h e said. ‘Come.’
I didn’t move. I wasn’t going to leave the warmth and safety of this room without an explanation at least.
‘Why?’
The danger I had f elt coming off him like a force-field had diminished, although it was still there, and, as much as I need to get away from him, the corridor and stairs beyond the room contained their own dangers, many of them unknown. Roman considered whether to answer and eventually decided to humour me though I had no doubt that he could force me to leave with him if he so wished.
‘Sir William is dead,’ he replied. ‘In my lady’s bed chamber.’
‘Oh.’ I was uncertain how he expected me to react to the news. I knew it wasn’t good, but at the moment I had no idea how bad it could be. I did feel an odd twinge at the ‘my lady’ bit. His wife, I wondered, then chastised myself for feeling anything. He was an illusion: why should I care? My thoughts must have been written on my face because his mouth turned slightly up at the corners in a small smile.
‘My lady is not my lady,’ he explained. ‘Lady Nest is Lord Brychan’s wife. He will not be pleased,’ he added.
‘And Sir William is…?’
‘One of Bernard de Neufmarche’s knights.’
I was in danger of becoming seriously confused. ‘Bernard de whathisnam e is who?’
‘De Neufmarche is Lord Brychan.’
‘Let me get this straight: Bernard de Neufmarche, aka Lord Brychan, is married to Lady Bird –’
A lip twitched. ‘Nest.’
‘Ok, Lady Nest, and Sir William has been found dead in her room? Did I get that right?’
‘I believe so.’ He appeared to be puzzled. It was difficult to tell. Any emotions or thoughts he had were not readily displayed, like most people. He was hard to read , his facial expressions were swift and muted, ghosting over his features, barely there, and, I had noticed, often absent entirely. Botox, maybe? That would explain a lot.
‘You do not speak like other women.’ He regarded me thoughtfully.
‘You don’t speak like anyone I know, either,’ I retorted, indignantly. Then something occurred to me, something I really should have thought of sooner. ‘Dead. You said dead.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you
I jumped to my feet, clutching the cloak to my chest. Something horrible had happened in the next room and I had an urgent need to get out of here. Heart beating so fast I thought it in danger of leaping out of my chest, I moved towards the door. Roman stopped me with one hand, palm held up and I was too scared of him to disobey. He put a finger to his lips and I nodded my understanding. Looks like he didn’t want to be discovered any more than I did. I would save that piece of information for later and tamped down my fear of him as best I could; we appeared to be in this together for the time being, and he hadn’t hurt me: yet. I deliberately pushed the thought of sharp teeth and my bitten neck to the back of my mind. Anyway, I was fairly sure that he would stop me if I tried to get past him so I really had no option other than to stay quiet and remain in the room.
Roman had braced his body against the door , but as the noises ceased, he relaxed slightly. That terrible tension left him, though he remained alert. He waited several minutes then cautiously cracked the door open a few inches and risked a quick look outside, checking the passageway.
‘Wait,’ he commanded and slipped noiselessly outside, closing the door behind him. I waited and waited and eventually he returned, calling softly before he came in the room, letting me know it was him. Lucky he did, considering I had been hiding behind the door with a large log from the stack next to the fireplace in my hand, ready to brain the first person who walked in the door.
‘We need to leave. Now,’ h e said. ‘Come.’
I didn’t move. I wasn’t going to leave the warmth and safety of this room without an explanation at least.
‘Why?’
The danger I had f elt coming off him like a force-field had diminished, although it was still there, and, as much as I need to get away from him, the corridor and stairs beyond the room contained their own dangers, many of them unknown. Roman considered whether to answer and eventually decided to humour me though I had no doubt that he could force me to leave with him if he so wished.
‘Sir William is dead,’ he replied. ‘In my lady’s bed chamber.’
‘Oh.’ I was uncertain how he expected me to react to the news. I knew it wasn’t good, but at the moment I had no idea how bad it could be. I did feel an odd twinge at the ‘my lady’ bit. His wife, I wondered, then chastised myself for feeling anything. He was an illusion: why should I care? My thoughts must have been written on my face because his mouth turned slightly up at the corners in a small smile.
‘My lady is not my lady,’ he explained. ‘Lady Nest is Lord Brychan’s wife. He will not be pleased,’ he added.
‘And Sir William is…?’
‘One of Bernard de Neufmarche’s knights.’
I was in danger of becoming seriously confused. ‘Bernard de whathisnam e is who?’
‘De Neufmarche is Lord Brychan.’
‘Let me get this straight: Bernard de Neufmarche, aka Lord Brychan, is married to Lady Bird –’
A lip twitched. ‘Nest.’
‘Ok, Lady Nest, and Sir William has been found dead in her room? Did I get that right?’
‘I believe so.’ He appeared to be puzzled. It was difficult to tell. Any emotions or thoughts he had were not readily displayed, like most people. He was hard to read , his facial expressions were swift and muted, ghosting over his features, barely there, and, I had noticed, often absent entirely. Botox, maybe? That would explain a lot.
‘You do not speak like other women.’ He regarded me thoughtfully.
‘You don’t speak like anyone I know, either,’ I retorted, indignantly. Then something occurred to me, something I really should have thought of sooner. ‘Dead. You said dead.’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you
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