Roger eyed him. ‘My. You are indeed committed to the family, Sir Bradley.’
‘And I shall go for some air,’ Prince Becket said, rising from his chair.
‘Shall I accompany you, Your Highness?’ Roger asked.
Becket gave him a polite smile. ‘No need.’ He bowed to Queen Isabella. ‘Excuse me.’ He left the room with Woottone at his heel.
Roger stood anyway. ‘I think I shall get some air myself.’
Roul gave Eda a knowing look.
‘It is important to give thanks to God for the things we have,’ Queen Isabella said, standing. ‘Such as new friends at court.’
Eda smiled as she got to her feet. ‘Indeed.’
The air was cold outside, but the chapel was only a short distance away.
‘You can wait out here, Sir Bradley,’ Eda said in the doorway of the chapel. ‘My prayers are for God’s ears only.’
He reminded himself that Eda was quite safe inside a chapel. He nodded and watched her enter.
While he waited for her to return, he paced, looking up at the thick cloud above. He could smell the pending rain.
A murmur of voices made him still and listen. They were coming from the gap between the chapel and the bakehouse. Roul rounded the corner and came face to face with a glaring Woottone.
‘Easy, defender,’ Roul said. ‘We’re on the same side.’
Woottone’s scowl deepened. ‘The prince wishes to be alone.’
Roul looked past him to where the prince was leaning against the bakehouse wall in the shadows, Lord Roger nowhere in sight. He clapped Woottone on the shoulder as he stepped past him, feeling the heat of the guard’s glower upon him.
Becket glanced in his direction. ‘There is a reason I am hiding, Commander.’
Roul leaned casually on the wall opposite him. ‘Sorry, but getting you alone seems to be an impossible feat.’
Becket rubbed his forehead. ‘Is there something Ms Suttone forgot to say during her verbal attack earlier?’
‘She can be a little direct.’
‘I can see why my mother likes her. Two peas in a pod.’ Becket regarded him a moment. ‘Ms Suttone told me you are from Carmarthenshire. I did not know whether to believe her, but then I saw your face when Lord Roger mentioned “cleaning out” the kingdom and saw it was true.’ He leaned his head back and was silent a moment. ‘Tell me, how does a man from Carmarthenshire come to be a commander in Chadora’s army?’
He was curious, which meant he was willing to listen. Roul took full advantage. ‘I have your mother to thank for that.’
Becket shook his head. ‘Of course you do.’
‘We met in Toryn nearly four years ago. She saved my life, actually.’
The prince’s hands fell away. ‘This feels like a long story. You better tell me the quick version, because Lord Roger is currently walking laps of the castle searching for me.’
Roul smiled at the ground, then looked over at Woottone. ‘Can you tell me if she leaves that chapel?’
Glaring, Woottone looked to Becket. The prince nodded. Only then did the bodyguard wander off to watch the door.
Once they were alone, Roul told his story—or rather the parts he could. When he was done, Becket stared at him for the longest time.
‘So in your mind she is a hero,’ he said after a long silence.
‘I see her more as a contradiction. She can be one person’s hero while being another’s worst nightmare.’
