“Good. Then listen well.” Nick spoke calmly and evenly, but Beauville must have seen the cold murder in his eyes, for he glanced at the old man and retreated a step.
“Simone told me how you betrayed her. How she confided in you and you not only refused her but branded her a madwoman,” Nick said. “As much as it shames me to admit it, I, too, did not believe her claims of Didier’s spirit.” He paused, making certain he looked directly into Beauville’s eyes. “Until I saw proof of him with my own eyes.”
“You are…insane,” Charles said in a high-pitched whisper.
“Nay. And neither is Simone. Do you hope to persuade her to return to France, you’d do well to reconcile yourself to having the ghost of an eight-year-old boy watching your every move.”
“Non! Non!” Charles shook his head. “It cannot be! You say these things only to make me not want Simone. But I do! Nothing will ever make me not want her!” The man spun on his heel and walked away from Nicholas and Jehan to stand alone, farther into the wood.
“Forgive him, FitzTodd,” Jehan said. “He is levelheaded to a fault. He simply cannot fathom that—”
“I care not,” Nick interrupted. “I am shamed to have disbelieved Simone. Now that I see what a fool I was, I have little tolerance for Charles’s petty fears. If he loves her as he says he does, he would believe her as well.”
Jehan peered at Nick, realization lighting his proud, tired face. “You love her, then?”
Nick turned away, toward the trail once more. “Of course.”
“I see,” Jehan said quietly. He joined Nicholas at the edge of the wood. “Mayhap Simone will not be returning to France as I had hoped.”
“Mayhap,” Nick said. Then he saw a tiny swatch of white floating in a jerky, arcing manner up the trail. “In any case, we shall soon know—Renault, your son approaches.”
Nick heard the man’s sharp gasp. “There?” he whispered as the feather drew nearer.
“Yea.” Nick looked down at where he guessed the boy’s head to be. “Are Simone and Lady Genevieve inside, Didier?”
The feather moved up and down.Yea.
“Are they well?”
Up and down—Yea.Then, side to side.
Nay.
Jehan looked to Nicholas. “What? What does it mean?”
Nicholas shook his head, frowning. He continued to address the boy. “Are—are they both alive?”
Yea. Yea, yea.
Nick’s heart began beating once more. “Guards inside?”
Yea.
“How many?”
The feather moved to swirl around Nick’s fist, and he held his palm out. The feather rose up on its tip in Nick’s hand and began tapping against his skin.
“Mon dieu,” Jehan breathed.
Then the feather withdrew. “Twenty-six,” Nick said. “Are you certain, lad?”
Yea.
“Very well.” Nick turned to the old man and checked his sword on his hip. “I’m going down to get them. In the storm, I’m certain I can sneak in without being detected.” He glanced toward Didier’s feather. “Are the women bound?”
Nay.
“Good. Jehan, stay here with the horses. When you—”
