Still, Emma found herself giddy with the knowledge. The longer she gazed at Arissa, the more excited she became.
“You are going to London to see the king,” she said, her mood rising. “Aren’t you excited?”
Arissa sucked on a fingernail she had nearly chewed raw. “You heard the contents of the message; the king is dying and wishes to see me. I…. I do not think I should be excited about death.”
“I did not mean it that way. Yet, it’s as if an entirely new life is about to open up for you. The acknowledgement of your royal blood by your ailing father,” she suddenly cocked her head in thought. “Mayhap he will tell you that he’s agreed to a marriage between you and Richmond. Would not that be exciting?”
Arissa nodded, attempting to fold her hands lest she chew them all to bloody nubs. “Certainly, I can hope for the best,” she glanced at her satchel, sighing with longing. “Sweet St. Jude, Emma. I miss him so.”
Emma’s rising excitement cooled. As badly as Arissa missed Richmond, she found herself longing for Gavan in the samemanner. Even though the guilt of wishing death upon the man’s wife had not faded entirely, she found her sorrow of the woman’s death had not cooled her love for him. If anything, her adoration had grown. It was a breathing entity, capable of pain and madness. It was something she was unable to control in the least.
“I know you miss him, Riss. But you shall be with him soon.”
Arissa rose from her cot, pondering the dingy little room. “Mayhap he will join me in London and I shall never have to return here again. Mayhap this is the last I shall see of this gloomy place.” Moving to the window, her gaze wandered to the large army waiting patiently in the distance. After a moment, she turned to her friend. “I shall send Gavan for you, Emma. I shall not leave you here alone.”
Emma met her gaze, torn between her fading guilt and the love she had always felt for the man. “Do not…. do not force him. After all, he just lost his wife. He must have time to heal.”
“He will be given ample time to heal. And then I will send him for you.”
Emma did not say anything for a moment. Meandering to the window, her gaze fell upon Hotspur’s stationary army. “If he comes, it will be the answer to my prayers, Riss. The impossible dream I never thought to come true.”
Arissa put her arm around Emma’s shoulders, hugging her gently. “Dreams do come true, Emma. I am living proof of that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sister Repentia waswell acquainted with the relatively flat topography that surrounded London, which was why the first inkling of trouble infiltrated her veins at the sight of snow-capped mountains in the distance. Although the rest of the caravan seemed unconcerned, including Arissa, she felt the distinct taste of apprehension as they drew closer to the white cluster of hills. There was something vaguely familiar about the sharp landscape and she spent the majority of her time staring at the snowy mountains, trying to determine their placement.
She couldn’t seem to shake the uneasy sense of familiarity. As Lady Arissa’s chaperone to the Sodom and Gomorrah that was London, she was supposed to remain focused on the lady. Unfortunately, she seemed to be utterly riveted to the snow-capped hills in the distance.
As the caravan actually crossed into the hilly terrain and the sharp iciness gripped them, Sister Repentia couldn’t help succumb to the growing knowledge that they were nowhere near London. Somehow, they had been directed down another path.
Her increasingly concerned attention moved from the icy landscape to the massive knight riding the lead, wondering if he even realized his error. It was, after all, their ninth day of travel and it was quite possible that the man had been thrown off course somehow, moving into the harsh territory of the borders when he should have been following the path of the Thames.
But even as she sought a reason for their change of direction, she realized her efforts were foolish. Hotspur was acutely aware of the path he had chosen and Sister Repentia’s heart sank as shebecame cognizant of the fact that, somehow, the plot to remove Arissa from Whitby had nothing to do with Henry. Hotspur was part of something the slender nun was unable to figure out at the moment, but shrewd enough to realize that subtle plots were enveloping them. Plots involving Henry’s daughter.
She would not upset Arissa with her suspicions; at least, not at the moment. Not until she had the opportunity to speak with Henry Percy regarding his reasoning and motives. Motives, she discovered, she was fearful to know. God help her, she had unknowingly escorted her daughter into the gaping jaws of political intrigue and there was absolutely nothing she could do against the fickle tides.
The caravan traveled from harsh, frozen ground to a firm-packed snow, newly placed. Sheer mountains on either side of the road were coated with a fresh white dusting and the wind that screamed off the mountains was harsh and beautiful at the same time. Even as Sister Repentia simmered in a growing horror, Arissa thought the trip to be quite wonderful. Wrapped in her warm woolen cloak, she drew in the magnificence of the scenery with her usual pleasure; she’d never seen anything so brutally lovely.
Arissa was the first one to spy an encampment, eyeing it curiously as the company drew near. Heavy tents of hide, sewn together in a mismatched design, gathered in a large cluster amidst the white packing of snow. The wagon upon which Arissa and Sister Repentia were riding came to a jolting halt and Arissa turned her puzzled expression to the nun.
“This…. this is London?” she asked hesitantly.
Sister Repentia did not reply; her gaze was riveted to Hotspur as he dismounted his charger and made his way back along the column. Arissa continued to stare at the nun, expecting an answer, as the mighty knight drew alongside the wagon.
His dark gaze met with frantic, angry eyes of pale green. “Where have you brought us, my lord?” Sister Repentia asked.
Even as Henry held up his arms for Arissa, he met the nun’s gaze steadily. “To our destination, Sister.”
Sister Repentia grasped Arissa by the arm, firmly pulling her away from Hotspur’s extended hands. “This is not the destination that was indicated to the mother abbess,” her voice was remarkably cold. “Where are we?”
Hotspur was not deterred by the suspicious nun; reaching out, he gently grasped Arissa by the hand and pulled her to her feet, into his arms. Cradled in the massive knight’s embrace, Arissa looked quite puzzled as Hotspur and Sister Repentia glared at each other.
“I believe you already know the answer, ’else you would not have asked,” he answered quietly.
Sister Repentia was pale with fright and anger. She pondered the knight a moment. “Then I would calmly ask what you intend to do with us. If you were going to kill us, why did you not do it on the road? Why bring us to Wales to accomplish this task?”
Arissa, her arms wrapped around Henry Percy’s neck, gasped with shock. “Wales?” she suddenly began to squirm, well remembering the fact that Owen Glendower was intent on capturing her. “You must take me away from here! The Welsh prince has already tried to capture me, and if he finds me…!”
