Like preying beasts, they sought their victim.
*
“I am simplynot hungry,” Arissa said listlessly, turning to her mother. “And I furthermore cannot believe that father chose toinvolve himself in this battle. He’s not been to battle in twenty years!”
Lady Maude did not wish to be reminded of her husband’s whereabouts. In spite of the cool temperature of the gallery, she fanned herself furiously in response to her daughter’s statement.
“’Tis his castle, dear, and he’s compelled to defend it,” she said weakly.
“Richmond and Daniel and the rest of them are defending us,” Arissa replied with a touch of bitterness. “Father will only get in the way.”
“Your father was a great warrior, once,” Maude stopped fanning herself. She was far too restless to remain seated. Rising on unsteady legs, she gave her daughter a thin smile. “All will be well, my dear. Remain to the safety of the castle until you are told otherwise.”
Arissa stood up and kissed her mother dutifully, watching as Lady Maxine and Lady Livia escorted her from the room. When her mother’s wide form vanished, she sighed and returned her attention to The Horde.
“I wonder where Bartholomew is,” she pondered out loud. “Has anyone seen him?”
“Surely your father would not allow him to fight,” Penelope responded. “He’s not even a knight.”
“He would have been had he not been so distracted with his studies,” Regine supplied. “Father had a suit of armor and a magnificent sword commissioned for him in anticipation of his knighthood. The armor and the broadsword sit collecting dust in Mossy’s sanctuary.”
Mossy. Arissa turned in the direction of the tower as if to see Mossy in his cluttered room. He was the only one who had known of her secret love for Richmond all of these years, a shoulder to cry on when she could not tell anyone of her anguish.
Truthfully, she’d never even admitted the extent of her adoration to the old man; Mossy had known without the benefit of words. With a back glance to her gaggle of friends, she excused herself from the table.
“Where are you going?” Regine demanded.
“To see Mossy,” she replied honestly. “I simply cannot believe that he’s not shown himself during our crisis. I would make sure that he’s well.”
“Mossy is perfectly safe in his tower,” Emma said frankly. “In fact, we would all be much safer if we would join him. I shall even brave the rats.”
Arissa did not want The Horde tagging along after her and shook her head firmly. “Nay, I shall not have us wandering the halls of Lambourn when we should simply stay put. I shall check on Mossy and return as quickly as I can, I promise.”
“You should not go alone, Riss,” Regine said sincerely. “It could be dangerous.”
“There is no danger within Lambourn,” Arissa cocked an eyebrow at her sister, turning for the gallery door as she spoke. “The enemy is outside, Regine, not inside. I shall return.”
The corridor to Mossy’s sanctuary was laden with distant shouts and shapeless phantoms. Wrapped in yards of warm wool and linen, Arissa jumped and yelped at every shadow. Regine’s foolish words of warning echoed in her mind and she silently cursed her sister for compounding her regular cast of anxieties to include skittishness and hallucinations.
It could be dangerous. Arissa shook off the cautions of a silly young girl and mounted the stairs to the tower room. Far behind her in the dim recesses of the hall, two of the shadows suddenly took shape and began to follow. She never saw them.
Mossy’s tower room was utterly freezing. She was surprised and relieved to find Bartholomew seated at Mossy’s scarred,uneven table, playing with a raccoon. She moved toward her brother, putting her arms about his broad shoulders.
“I was worried for you,” she said softly. “No one seemed to know where you were.”
He patted his sister gently; there was a good deal of genuine affection between them. Where most of the family failed to understand his drives and whims, Arissa accepted him unconditionally. She may not have always understood him, but she was never judgmental.
“I have been here since the outbreak,” he said, feeding the raccoon a small apple.
Arissa watched him toy with the animal. “Why? Are you hiding?”
“Hardly,” Mossy bustled across the floor, his arms laden with bulk; he always seemed to be terribly busy within the confines of his sanctuary. Strange thing was, he never seemed to accomplish much of anything. “He came up to put on his armor and join the melee.”
Bartholomew glanced at Mossy. The young man was in the midst of a severe bout with confusion and self-pity. He shrugged, turning back to the pet.
“I am thinking on it.”
“Why?” Arissa asked. “You are not a warrior, Bart. You are better suited to the gentler things in life.”
