“I cannot help but feel responsible for…for Obny,” she finished on a hitching whisper. “You see, had I not fled to the priory—”
“Had you not fled,” Simone interrupted, turning, her fist clutched around the two small, metal objects, “you would be in my very place now, would you not?”
Evelyn paled beyond white, and Simone felt a spasming of her conscience. But her hurt and anger were not considerate of Evelyn’s own grief. Yea, the woman had lost her father and her home, but had Simone not lost all that as well? And more? What else must she be forced to give up?
Simone threw the key and coin at the woman. They hit her and fell to the floor with a gay tinkle.
“I read. Your letters,” Simone hissed.
The two women stared at each other for several moments, understanding passing between them wordlessly.
“You love him, don’t you?” Evelyn asked quietly.
“Collect your belongings and get from my sight,holy woman,” Simone mocked. “You will have him soon enough—what do you care of my feelings?”
Evelyn bent and retrieved the coin and key from the floor. “Lady Simone, ’tis not my intent,” Evelyn began, rising and holding forth a beseeching, trembling hand. “Please—”
“Go!” Simone shrieked, using the hand not clutching her coverings to shove Evelyn backward toward the door. “Get from me and leave me in peace!”
Evelyn stumbled against the wall, her eyes wide as she beheld Simone. “Forgive me, Lady Simone,” she whispered. “Please.” Then, in an instant, she was out the door and gone.
Simone choked on the wild sob lodged in her throat. Forgive her?Forgive her?When it had been Evelyn’s own stupidity that had driven Nick to despair, left Handaar alone at Obny? And now Nick was perhaps already in the thick of battle, possibly never to return. Forgive Evelyn, when ’twas Simone who would ensure that Nicholas and Genevieve would be safe from Armand, giving Evelyn exactly what she wanted? What she didn’t deserve?
Simone let the covers fall from her body as she crossed to the trunk containing her mother’s gowns, swiping at her face with her fingertips. She pulled out a scarlet kirtle trimmed in black.
She would right this situation once and for all, this very day. The tangled, bloody knot binding Nick and Simone—through Genevieve and Armand—would be severed and the loosed ends of their life together cast to the wind, like wayward feathers.
Simone saw Lady Genevieve turn the corner of the corridor ahead of her, and her heart began to pound like a war drum. She tried to swallow her fear.
“Lady Genevieve!” she called, breaking into a skipping trot after the woman. “My lady, wait!”
In an instant the woman reappeared, her face drawn around a curious smile. “Good morn, Simone. Do you come to break the fast with me?”
Simone finally reached Genevieve, and although the journey down the corridor had not been a long one, she was breathless. “Nay,” she said. “But I need to speak with you, my lady. ’Tis most urgent.”
“Oh?” The blond woman’s bloodshot eyes narrowed, and Simone could see the toll that preparing Handaar’s body through the long night had taken on her. “What is it?”
Simone gripped the parchment in her hand more tightly, and Genevieve’s eyes went to it.
“You are in danger, Lady Genevieve.” Simone paused. “But I think you already know that, don’t you?”
Genevieve’s eyebrows lowered. “In danger? Why, Simone, I’m sure I don’t know what—”
“I know that you were married to my father. That he was the one who took Tristan from you.” Her words fell and bounced like the blade of a guillotine in the quiet corridor. Genevieve was as still as the moon and twice as pale as Simone continued. “And I know that it was he whom you thought you killed in France.”
Genevieve stepped closer to Simone, gripped her upper arm with slender fingers. Her whisper was fierce. “You would do well to have a care for whom you tell your suspicions to, Simone.”
Simone shook her head and held forth the parchment in her hand. “Then tell me I am wrong,” she challenged.
Genevieve stared at the offered page for a long moment, the very ends of her hair trembling. Then she snatched it from Simone, as if her courage would leave her if she did not. The woman unfolded the long page and skimmed the words. Genevieve took a miserly breath. She looked directly at Simone.
“Would that I had hit him harder.”
Simone felt her chin begin to tremble, so relieved was she to have the danger at last called by its ugly name. “He’s come for you,” Simone said.
Genevieve only nodded, and then looked up and down the corridor. “I’ll tell you what I know. Let us go to my chamber, where we will not be overheard.”
Simone nodded, and the two women linked arms and turned once more toward the wing that housed Nick’s own rooms.
