“I can walk,” she said murmured.
They started forward once more, nagging doubt assailing him. The farther they walked, the bigger the knot grew in his stomach. Was it the idea of failing in his duty? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow for failure. He’d come too far to concede to misgivings. He would see to England’s protection no matter the result in Leaudor.
So what bothered him? What had his chest clenched with dread, his hands shaky?
They walked in silence, drawing closer to the monastery. Then it hit him like a ton of stone blocks.
She had never said she lovedhim.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isabella and Merrick trudged through the thick brush that shielded the stretch of beach where the secret passageway from the monastery came out. She hoped they would be able to gain access through the tunnel, because she knew going to the gate would be suicide.
As they shoved aside another thatch of bushes, the landscape fell away to the sandy soil of the beach. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Father Ling standing on the beach, but she was.
He watched them approach, his robe swirling in the breeze. He made no move toward them but waited until they drew abreast of him before he acknowledged them.
Sadness rimmed his eyes as he reached for Isabella’s hands. “You have seen Prince Stephane.”
Unable to speak, she nodded.
He motioned toward the rock outcropping that hid the entrance to the tunnel. “Come. There is much we must discuss.”
She and Merrick followed the monk down the long tunnel until they were well into the monastery. When they entered the main hall, Father Ling turned to Merrick. “My brethren will see to your needs. I have need to speak to the princess.”
He spoke dismissively, to Isabella’s surprise. He had never sought to exclude Merrick from any of their conversations, and it puzzled her now.
Merrick merely nodded and turned to the two monks who waited to escort him away.
Father Ling motioned her forward, and they walked into a small chamber she believed must be his private quarters. She sank wearily onto the silken pallet in the middle of the room and waited as he sat cross-legged in front of her.
Her mind swam in a crazy pattern, her head throbbing with each movement she made. So much had happened since she set foot back on her home soil. She wondered if she had stepped into some bizarre nightmare, and if she had, when would she wake up?
Father Ling probed her with his all-knowing eyes. “I am sorry for your pain, Your Highness.”
The knot grew bigger in her throat. She would not cry. She would not. “Thank you,” she croaked.
“Your father had concerns about Prince Stephane,” he said gravely.
“How long?” she asked, unwilling to believe she was the only one not to have seen Stephane for who he was.
“For some time.”
She blew out her breath in a long puff. “I don’t understand.”
“He worried for your and Davide’s safety,” Father Ling added, watching her closely.
She opened her mouth and closed it in rapid succession. “Father suspected Stephane might do something so horrible?” She shook her head in silent denial. “Why?” Even though he had done more thanhorrible. How could any one word describe the atrocities he had committed? But that anyone might have suspected. It was more than she could imagine.
“Your father was ill, Your Highness. He didn’t want you or Davide to know. Not at first.”
“Ill? How ill?”
“Sick enough that he knew he would not be able to perform the duties of the crown for much longer,” Father Ling said quietly. “He sent Stephane here to secretly seek the relics in the sacred quest. King Fernando’s hope was that Stephane would be successful and could succeed him to the throne despite his misgivings.”
“But I don’t understand…”
“He failed,” Father Ling said. “He chose the relics.”
