What would she do now? And what about the boy?
Constantine told himself it didn’t matter as he started down the corridor. He didn’t care.
You cared only hours ago, when you still thought the child was Felsteppe’s. Now you know the monster did not sire the boy and has no real claim on Dori, the woman you love.
He stopped as so many more images flitted through his memory—the way she’d fought him in the ward, the crucifix she’d borne all the way to the ruined hall in memory of the woman and boy lost there; how she’d rushed out with his blade to defend him when she’d thought he was in danger from the villagers. The way she’d lovingly prepared Patrice for her final rest.
She’d left Benningsgate alone, after Constantine had gone back on his word to her, to save her son.
Constantine at last admitted it: he did love Dori. That was why he’d come after her, brought her before the king, accepting her son to be Felsteppe’s, accepting Dori was his wife. Accepting all of her, just as she was.
She lied to me.
No. She never lied, he realized.
Dori would never do as the king suggested and crawl back to Felsteppe on hands and knees, begging to be part of her son’s life when it was Felsteppe who had ordered her death. Although Henry had been uncharacteristically obtuse compared to the ruler Constantine had previously known, surely the king must realize Felsteppe would only make certain Theodora truly was dead the next time.
Henry must know that, just as surely as he knew Constantine would never rest until Glayer Felsteppe paid for all he’d done.
Constantine looked down at the parchment in his hand. He slowly walked toward the single torch in the corridor, holding the hastily scribbled words closer to the light. After a moment, Constantine lowered the page and raised his eyes to stare into nothing.
The king knew.
The shuffling sound of someone approaching drew his attention, and Constantine looked up to see an old woman walking slowly down the stairs. She appeared in a trance, her eyes—set in discolored purple wells in her face—were locked on some far away sight that perhaps only she could see and her lips moved in a soundless soliloquy below her distinctive hooked nose. She reached the bottom of the stair and turned to walk toward him and Constantine saw that she was without shoes, although her dress was that of a better servant.
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” the old woman said in a breathy, dreamy voice. She looked up at him, but her gaze seemed to take in the air around his head rather than meet his eyes directly. “Have you seen my son?”
“No, mistress,” Constantine said with a wary frown. The woman was clearly unwell. “Is he a young boy?”
“Oh . . . no,” she said, turning on her feet in a slow circle, looking around at the walls and ceiling and floor of the corridor, as if she expected her missing progeny to manifest from the stones. “He’s a great lord, now. Grown. He must have forgotten his old mother again. I’m not to call him son.”
She looked up in the general vicinity of Constantine’s face once more. “In which direction lies Thurston Hold, sir?”
He recognized the profile, then, softened by feminine features and years but still the same hooked nose, the same pointed chin, the same narrow eyes.
Eseld. Felsteppe had left his mother, the nurse caring for Dori’s son, behind. Which meant—
Constantine looked up the stairs.
“Sir?” Eseld queried again. “Won’t you help me? I must know how far Thurston Hold is from here.”
He looked back down at her, wondering at the bruises on her face, the evil she’d endured.
And enabled.
“South,” Constantine said. “Thurston Hold is south of here. Three hours by horse.”
“I thank you, sir,” she said and then turned away in her dreamy manner and slowly walked down the corridor on her bare feet.
And then Constantine dismissed any thought of Glayer Felsteppe’s mother from his mind as he ran to the foot of the stairs and ascended them two at a time.
* * *
Theodora threw herself against the door in the same instant that Eseld recognized her and sought to slam it in her face.
“Help me, Eirene!” Dori cried.
The girl added her weight with Dori’s and the door flew open, sending Eseld stumbling back into the room.
