Complexity was an understatement; even Isobeau sensed that. There was far more to Norfolk’s dealings than met the eye but she understood clearly from Atticus’ statement that de la Londe and de Troiu were now said to be at Wellesbourne Castle. The men who had killed and betrayed Titus had evidently been sighted or tracked. At least now they had a location or some clue as to their whereabouts. She felt some excitement and relief at that.
“Then we are going to Wellesbourne Castle to confront those who betrayed Titus?” she asked.
Atticus nodded as they reached the top of the steps and headed into the corridor that led to the sleeping chambers. “We are, indeed,” he said. “I have Kenton pulling together our supplies and mounts. We will leave as soon as you are ready.”
Isobeau thought quickly on packing what she needed, struggling to ignore the massive chill throughout her body. She just couldn’t seem to get warm this morning and the thought of riding out into the icy weather was not particularly appealing to her, but she would not beg off. She was determined to see her task through of seeing the men who killed Titus punished, just as Atticus was.
“I can be ready very soon,” she assured him. “I will pack a small satchel. Will that be too much to take?”
They reached her chamber door and Atticus opened it. “If it can fit on your saddle, it is not too much,” he told her. “We will travel swiftly and lightly, so keep that in mind when packing.”
She unfastened the heavy, woolen cloak, laying it upon the table. “Will I be able to ride my mare or would you prefer for me to ride something more hearty?”
Atticus shrugged. “The mare seems strong enough.”
“She is, but I have never taken her on a long journey. I do not know how she will react.”
Atticus’ gaze lingered on her a moment. “I am more concerned with how you will react,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you feel up to this?”
Truth be told, Isobeau wasn’t. She was very cold and feeling oddly weak. She knew it was because of what happened yesterday and she also knew that she more than likely should not be up and moving around. She should be in bed because her body needed rest. But she didn’t want Atticus to go without her and she didn’t want to delay him if she couldn’t travel, so she did what she had to do. She lied.
“I feel well enough,” she told him. “I will pack right away and we can leave.”
Atticus didn’t question her even though she seemed somewhat pale to him. She simply didn’t look well. But he didn’t argue with her. Instead, he went to the table where her cloak lay, to the food that the servants had brought. He sat heavily and began pulling at a warm loaf of crusty bread, cooling quickly in the chill temperatures.
“Did you eat anything?” he asked.
Isobeau already had a satchel out and was selecting things to pack. She looked at him as he stuffed bread into his mouth.
“Not yet,” she said. “I will after I have packed for our journey.”
“I will make sure that you do.”
She turned back to her packing. “How far is it to Wellesbourne Castle?”
Mouth full, Atticus poured himself some watered wine. “It will take us a couple of weeks at the very least to reach it,” he told her. “It is much further south.”
“Near Coventry?”
He nodded. “It is very near Coventry.”
Isobeau paused, hope on her face. “Do you think it would be too much to stop at Isenhall Castle and visit my father?”
Atticus shrugged. “That can more than likely be arranged if you wish it,” he said. “But my business at Wellesbourne will come first.”
“I understand.”
They fell into silence after that, although it was not uncomfortable. Isobeau was packing and Atticus was eating. But eventually Isobeau’s movements slowed as she thought of the men she had seen Atticus battle so effortlessly. She couldn’t seem to push the event out of her mind. It had been botha horrifying and thrilling spectacle, something she had never before witnessed.
“Those men you fought,” she said, grasping for words and wondering if she should say anything at all. “You did not have any armor on. Were you not concerned that they might injure you?”
He looked up from his bread and cheese. “Were you?”
She shrugged because she truly didn’t know what to say to that. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “I suppose that I was frightened at first. I realize we have been married less than a day but I do not believe I am strong enough to bury another husband at the moment.”
Atticus swallowed the bite in his mouth, wondering if he was reading too much into her words. Did she say such a thing because she knew she could care for him? Or perhaps she already did? He was absolutely terrified to say anything emotional to her, fearful that she would reject any sentiment. Their marriage was a business arrangement, after all. He was certain she saw it as nothing more than a duty.
“You will not have to,” he said, taking a sip of his wine because he wanted to say much more than that. Putting something in his mouth was a way of preventing anything embarrassing from coming out. “In the cold, and in armor, they were not as agile as I was. I knew I could best them both but I had to move first and move quickly. There was really nothing more to it than that.”
