Melusine’s hysteria was fading, but now she seemed dazed. She looked at the food as if unsure she needed or wanted it.
“It wasyourarmy,” she said. “Your army attacked us.”
Gruffydd cleared his throat. “That is none of your concern,” he said. “We have peace now, and that is all that matters.”
Melusine looked at him, studying her dark-eyed cousin who looked much thinner than the last time she saw him.
She knew why.
She knew what Elle had done to him. She knew it had been at her urging. Melusine was a woman of many secrets, all of which were unknown to Gruffydd but most of which were known to Elle. They were a pair, the two of them. Poor Gruffydd had taken the brunt of the ambitious women in his family.
But she could never let him know.
“Elle,” she said quietly, trying to whisper in his ear. “What happened to her?”
“She survived,” Gruffydd said, making sure Christopher heard him. “She is in the encampment, in fact, but I do not know where.”
“She is being well tended,” Christopher said, looking at the lady. “You needn’t worry.”
Melusine eyed him with uncertainty. “What is going to happen to her?” she asked. “What is going to happen to me?”
She was starting to get agitated again, so soon after she had recently calmed, and Christopher went to her, handing her his cup of wine.
“Drink,” he said quietly. “Nothing is going to happen to anyone tonight, so drink this. Eat something. You’ll feel better.”
With quivering hands, Melusine reached for the cup and took a long drink, almost draining it. She was a woman who liked her drink, even though she pretended otherwise.
“May I see Elle, please?” she asked, licking her lips of the wine.
Christopher seemed to consider that. “In time,” he said. “But first, you will tell me what your participation in the battle was.”
Gruffydd started to answer for her, but Christopher held up a hand, silencing him. When Melusine saw this, she drained the remainder of her wine before speaking.
“I live with Elle and Gruffydd,” she said. “Brython is my home.”
“Are you a warrior like your cousins?”
She shook her head with horror. “Nay, my lord,” she said. “Weapons and battle frighten me. I tend to the meals. If a man is wounded, then I care for him.”
“Then you are a chatelaine.”
She nodded. “Mostly,” she said. “May I see Elle now?”
Christopher looked to Gruffydd, who nodded faintly. “It might make things easier with my sister,” he said quietly. “Melusine may calm her down.”
Christopher pondered that request for a moment before going to the tent opening and sending a man for Curtis. As he lingered over by the tent flap, waiting for his son to appear, Melusine picked up a piece of stale bread and shoved it in her mouth.
“What is he going to do with us?” she hissed at Gruffydd.
He eyed her as she continued to shove crumbs in her mouth. “Nothing,” he said in a normal tone so Christopher wouldn’t think they were conspiring. “I am returning to Tywyl, and I am going to marry Hawise. Elle is going to marry the Earl of Leominster and they will live here, at Brython, because it will become a castle garrisoned by Hereford. And you… I do not know. Mayhap he will allow you to remain here with Elle.”
Melusine was looking at him in complete shock. “Married?” she repeated. “Elle is to bemarried?”
Gruffydd nodded, fully aware that Christopher was listening. “It is time for her to grow up and find her place in the world,” hesaid steadily. “She will have a husband and children and a title as the Countess of Leominster. Quite suitable for a daughter of Gwenwynwyn.”
But Melusine wasn’t having any of it. She wasn’t aware Christopher was listening simply because she wasn’t that smart. Or that aware. More than that, she had her back to him. She was focused on Gruffydd in utter horror.
“Are you mad?” she said. “She killed Cadwalader! Why do you think she would not kill an English husband? She will do it, and we will be in more trouble than before!”
