Around them, the woodland village was alive with the chores of the day, and people tended their work as they must, but Piers caught their furtive glances of curiosity. They, too, suspected. Even Tiny, assisting her mother at the fire, stared at him, her small brow wrinkled with worry.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Ira accused.
Piers dropped his pack to the ground. “She will send for her sister once we reach London.”
The old man’s hairy eyebrows shot up. “She agreed?”
“It was her plan before I mentioned it. She acknowledges that she must answer the betrothal.”
Ira’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot imagine it was that easy.”
Piers sighed. “Let it be, Ira. What is done is done, and we will not know the outcome of it until I have my audience with Edward.”
“Very well,” the old man acquiesced. “But I would speak my mind to her all the same. Is her ladyship dressed to receive visitors yet?” he mocked.
Piers leveled a look at his grandfather. “Ira, I warn you now—nothing untoward happened between Alys and me last night, and you will say naught to upset her. I ken that the pair of you are not fast companions, but that is largely your own fault. Whether you believe it or not, Alys is a good woman, and this journey has not been an easy one for her. She deserves your respect. If not for her, the two of us may not ever have met.”
“Until Edward dubs you a knight of the realm, you don’t command me, pup,” Ira said gruffly. “And even ifhe did, you still wouldn’t! I’ll speak my thoughts to whom and as I please.”
“You heard me, Ira,” Piers said. “I do not jest.”
“And neither do I,” Ira growled, leaning toward Piers and squinting one eye at him. “You’re just like your mam—always making excuses for ‘em.”
Piers stared at the old man, his expression set.
Ira eased off. “It is a fair thing to have a bit of her returned to me.”
Piers caught glimpse of the girl, Tiny, making her way ever closer to him, casting her mother furtive glances. It was as if she was trying to catch Piers’s attention, and he thought it strange that she did not simply walk to him and greet him as she normally would.
Ira had already started climbing the ladder, like an ancient yet still nimble spider—all bony joints.
When Piers looked around once more, the small village girl was nearly upon him.
“Good morrow to you, sir,” she called out gaily, and rather loudly, Piers thought. “Are you readied for your journey?”
“Good morrow to you, Tiny. I am all but,” he replied with a faint smile. It amazed him how this small, frail girl had managed to survive these many years in the hard wood, let alone thrive.
“Is Lady Alys about yet?” she called, with a bit more put-on nonchalance than was necessary. Everyone in the village knew how the girl worshipped Alys.
“Ira’s speaking to her now. I expect her shortly.”
She came to stand before him, looking around her pointedly and swinging her arms at her sides. “Oh, that’s grand. Grand!” Tiny turned a wide smile to him, but Piers could see the purple shadows under the girl’s eyes. “Canyou keep a secret?” she whispered, the smile falling from her mouth and her eyes darting side to side.
Piers raised his eyebrows. “I suppose I can, yes.”
“A deep secret,” Tiny emphasized, and her brow furrowed. “If you told anyone, I—I don’t know what would happen.”
“Alright,” Piers said, growing serious at the girl’s desperate tone. “What is it?”
“Swear to me,” Tiny insisted. “Swear you won’t tell. Papa would switch me to ribbons.”
He crouched down. “I swear. What is it, child?”
Piers saw the slight tremble in her chin—the girl was terrified. “A stranger came into the village last night, looking for Lady Alys.”
Piers’s heart skittered to a halt. “You saw him?”
Tiny nodded hesitantly. “‘Twas a woman, but I didn’t see her face. She kept behind me. I snuck down with Layla to see what was left of the feast, and she came upon me.”
