Diara blinked as if startled by the answer she was about to give. “How he would go to Hereford himself and demand restitution,” she said. “My God… do you think he is actually going to ride to the Earl of Hereford and Worcester and demand that I be allowed to marry a dead man?”
Before Iris could answer, Diara was rushing from the chamber, taking the spiral stairs of the keep far too quickly as she made her way down to the first floor where the main rooms of the keep were. There were two solars, one for her mother and one for her father, plus a small hall and a collection of other smaller chambers. But Diara was heading for her father’s solar, where she last saw the man, and she heard his raised voice before she ever burst into the chamber.
Startled by his daughter nearly ripping the solar door off its hinges as she entered his solar, Robin looked at his only child in shock.
“Diara?” he said, both puzzled and annoyed. “What is wrong, lass?”
Diara didn’t even look at the other people in the chamber. She was completely focused on her father as she rushed toward him.
“Why is Pryce ordering horses to be brought forth?” she demanded. “Papa, are you going to see Hereford?”
Robin had been in the middle of a raging sentence, but was now forced to calm himself simply by the expression on hisdaughter’s face. He took a deep breath and turned away from her.
“That is none of your affair,” he said. “You will leave, please.”
Diara didn’t obey. In fact, she began to follow him.
“Papa,” she said. “You cannot blame the House of de Lohr over the death of a son. Don’t you think they are sick with grief over it? You cannot go there and make it worse. You will make an enemy of them.”
Robin glanced at her. “I appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary,” he said. “If you must know, I am indeed going to Lioncross Abbey, but I am going to express my condolences to Hereford. You needn’t worry.”
Diara wasn’t sure why she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t. She took a moment to look around the chamber, seeing her mother and the remaining two knights in the chamber. Her father had three, and with Pryce outside, Sir Eddard de Vahn and Sir Mathis de Geld were inside the solar, perhaps awaiting further orders. Diara might have actually believed that had she not heard her father ranting as she ran down the stairs, so they were merely there to take the brunt of his rage.
So was her mother.
Lady Ananda Maxwell le Bec was looking at her daughter with some apprehension. Unlike most husbands, Robin sought his wife’s counsel. She sat in on any business or anything that had to do with Cicadia Castle or the Cheltenham earldom. She was a brilliant woman, wise with her advice, and that was something Diara had inherited from her. But Diara was the life of any party, whereas Ananda was quite reserved. Reserve wasn’t what Diara saw in her mother’s expression, however.
What she saw, she didn’t like.
“Papa,” Diara finally said. “Should I not go with you, as Beckett’s intended? I should like to extend my condolences also.”
“Nay,” Robin said flatly. “I will go. It is my duty. You will remain here with your mother.”
“She is not going?”
Robin’s jaw flexed as he looked at her. “If you have come here to ask foolish questions, then I will again tell you to leave,” he said. He pointed to the door. “Go, please.”
There was so much that wasn’t being said. Diara could feel it. However, not wanting to argue with her father in front of people who served him, including her mother, she quit the chamber.
But she didn’t go far.
Diara sat on the spiral steps that led to the upper floor, just out of sight. She could still see the solar door, however, peering around the bend of the staircase, and she could hear more of her father’s shouting, but she couldn’t really hear the words. The thick walls of the keep muffled them. But she waited him out, knowing something would happen at some point, until the door opened and one of her father’s knights spilled out.
Mathis quit the solar, quietly shutting the door behind him. He turned for the entry, but hissing from the stairwell caught his attention. Diara was waving him over, and he headed in her direction.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Waiting for you,” she said. “He’s not going to Lioncross to convey his condolences, is he?”
Mathis was a good man from a good family. He’d been in love with Diara since nearly the moment he met her, so talk of betrothals didn’t sit well with him. He’d offered for her hand, more than once, only to be told that although he was an excellent knight and Lord Cheltenham appreciated his service, he wasn’t suitable for the earl’s daughter. Worse still, Diara only viewed him as a good friend. Therefore, he had to stand by and watch someone else take what he wanted.
It was a difficult position for him.
“Nay,” he said after a moment. “He is not.”
“Is he going to demand that they consider the betrothal a marriage by proxy?”
He knew what she meant. Sometimes, betrothals were considered just as good as a marriage. The church considered it binding, so, for all intents and purposes, Diara and Beckett were already married. In theory, anyway. But Mathis shook his head.
