“My lord, Dane is not in his room, and he is not with Charles in the tower,” she said reluctantly. “Might you know where he would be?”
Gaston leaned heavily on the door, having difficultly believing the course this night was taking. It was hard to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “Nay, I do not. Call to the soldier at the base of the stairs and tell him to send Patrick and Antonius to me, please.”
Jasmine scooted away and Gaston closed the door, moving to put his sword back on. Between Remington, Dane and Mari-Elle, it would appear that he would get no rest this night; yet, truly, he was far too worked up to sleep.
With Eudora and Patrick inside the chamber and four soldiers guarding the door, Gaston felt confident enough to leave Remington and go in search of Dane. As much as he hated toleave her, he felt a distinct sense of foreboding at the boy’s absence; if Mari-Elle was capable of stabbing the mother, there was no telling what she might do to a defenseless boy. He did not even know if Mari-Elle had been located yet, for Arik had yet to return to him. All he knew was that he had to find the boy and see for himself that he was all right.
Sending Jasmine off to bed, he took Antonius with him in search of Dane.
The first place he went to was Charles’ tower room. The lad was up, even in the middle of the night, hunched over a table reading a leather-worn book. Gaston and Antonius entered the open door, casting an interested eye over the mysterious room.
“My lord Gaston,” Charles hopped off his stool. “Jasmine told me of Remi’s misfortune. How can I serve you?”
Gaston cocked an eyebrow at the symbol of a pentagram. “Mayhap you have a sorcerer’s cauldron to tell me where to find Dane?”
Charles grinned. “Nay, my lord, no magic. Only experiments and such. Pray, did you check the stables?”
“Not yet,” Gaston replied. “But I shall. I only came here to make sure he wasn’t turned into a table or vanished into the walls.”
“I swear to you, I know no magic,” Charles reiterated. “But I shall help you search for him if you wish.”
Gaston waved the boy with him and Charles leapt at the chance to work side by side with the Dark Knight, however small the task.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dane had alwaysliked the smell of hay. There was something comforting about it, and when he and Trenton fled the dining hall, there was no doubt as to their destination, in the hay, far away from the fighting and yelling. Sweet, consoling, and shielding were the lofts of Mt. Holyoak’s stable.
There were soldiers milling about but none paid much attention to the boys as they tore into the stable area, taking the ladder to the loft high above the stalls. All that mattered to Dane was getting as far away as he possibly could, and Trenton was following blindly.
They scrambled far back into the loft against the stone supporting wall, huffing and puffing. No one spoke for a minute as they caught their breath, frightened that somehow they had been followed, that someone would appear at any moment to drag them back into the heated argument.
“Why… why did we come here?” Trenton found his voice, observing his surroundings.
“Because it’s safe,” Dane insisted. “I always come here when there is fighting and it is safe.”
Trenton looked at the younger boy a moment, studying him. “Do your parents fight a lot, too?”
Dane avoided his gaze, settling back on the straw. “All the time.”
Trenton thought a moment. Sometimes he felt as if he were the only child on earth whose parents fought constantly. When they were together, that is. He felt himself warming just a bit more to his new friend.
“My mother and father fight every time my father comes home,” he said quietly. “Finally, he just started staying away more and more. I had not seen him in a year until we came to Mt. Holyoak.”
“Does he beat her?” Dane asked.
Trenton shook his head. “Nay, but I have heard him tell her he would like to throttle her. He’s never hit her.”
“Never?” Dane looked surprised. “My father hits my mother every day almost. Why does not he hit her if she is disobedient?”
Trenton shrugged. “I do not know, he just does not. But they do not like each other; in fact, my mother hates him.”
“Why?” Dane simply couldn’t imagine anyone hating Gaston.
Trenton settled back on a pile of straw and grabbed a stalk. “I do not know. Maybe because he’s never home.”
“Have not you asked her why she hates him?” Dane pushed.
Trenton shook his head. “Nay.”
