Pushing himself from his chair, he walked over to his armor, hefting his shield and stroking his finger over his thickly painted device, a Rampant Lion crushing a writhing serpent under its paw. Aye. He knew what needed to be done now. He knew well.
By God, it was his destiny.
Catherine ducked into the darkened chamber, motioning for Alban to follow behind her. He slunk in, as quiet as she, unencumbered by his usual armor; he and the other men had decided to forsake it on this secret mission, wearing only their hauberks for the sake of silence and speed. Sir Newell and Sir Payton stayed behind in the corridor, keeping watch to alert them of the approach of any Faegerliegh guards.
Everything was proceeding as planned.
’Twas no longer dark outside; dawn had threaded pink and golden fingers over the land a little more than an hour ago, just as Catherine and the men had reached her old home. They’d tethered their horses in the wood beyond the keep and crept the rest of way into the estate on foot, sneaking through the gate while the watchman’s back was turned to relieve himself against the wall.
They’d had to wait for a long time for that chance, but they’d been ready when it came. Now the waiting was over. In a few moments she’d see her children again. She took a deep breath where she stood in the doorway of their room and then stepped forward.
Her entire body thrummed with excitement, her eyes straining as she moved closer to their bed. Other than the low glow of last night’s coals in the grate, the room was black as pitch. The shutters had ever been thick here; for all the light outside, the room seemed shrouded in darkness. She reached out her hand, unable to see well in front of her but expecting to touch the wooden posts of the bed frame at any moment.
“Do you see them yet, my lady?” Alban called softly through the gloom. She felt his presence close at her back, and she breathed another silent prayer of thanks to Gray for sending his friend along with her. ’Twas almost as if Gray himself stood by her side, stable and comforting.
“Nothing yet,” she whispered. Her toe suddenly rapped into something hard, and she stifled a gasp. The bed. Her hands trembled as she reached out to feel the warm, solid little shapes that should be nestled under the coverlet. She groped and leaned over further, propping her knee onto the mattress. But she found nothing. The bed was empty.
“They’re not here.” She twisted to face Alban in the dark, her voice still quiet but edged now with panic. “The coverlets are rumpled, but they’re gone!”
Alban stepped away, checking the rest of the chamber before returning to her side. “The room is empty, my lady. Are you sure this is their chamber? Might you have taken a wrong turn in the dark?”
“Nay. ’Tis the twins’ room. This is their bed,” she said, touching the thickly carved vines and leaves that covered the wooden posts. “Geoffrey received this bed from Eduard, as a gift at their birth. ’Twas one of the few luxuries he allowed us to keep.” She felt her throat closing as she considered other, less pleasant places that Ian and Isabel might be.
Or what Eduard might have done to them if he’d learned what she was up to.
Pushing that horrid thought from her mind, she paced back to the door. An idea bloomed suddenly, filling her with renewed hope. “Come! There is one other place to check,” she whispered, crossing again to the opposite side of the bedchamber. She pushed aside a thick woolen tapestry on the wall, revealing a narrow door with a little latch set into the wood. “It connects to my old room,” she whispered, pulling the latch and allowing the door to swing into the adjacent chamber.
Here the light shone a little brighter through the crevices in the shutters, though no fire warmed the grate. ’Twas deathly cold. In the gloom, Catherine made out the contours of her much simpler bed—almost a pallet, really. Geoffrey had made her retire to it most nights, as a punishment for having displeased him in some way.
She’d been grateful for the respite, then, and she was overjoyed now, to see the huddled forms of her children sleeping under her old blankets, like puppies curled together for warmth.
Tears stung her eyes and her throat felt tight. Slowly, carefully, she stepped closer to the bed, until she was able to kneel on the floor next to it. She reached out and brushed her fingers across Isabel’s brow, stroking aside a silvery blond curl. Her hungry gaze took in Ian as well, seeing how he cuddled close behind his sister, his little fist clenched and tucked under his rosy cheek.
The tears overflowed, then, accompanied by a rush of love so great that it hurt to breathe. It was all she could do not to reach down and sweep the both of them into her arms right now. But she had to go slowly, she reminded herself. They thought her dead, and she’d give up her freedom before frighting them with her unexpected return.
“They are beautiful, my lady,” Alban said softly from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder at him, smiling through her tears. “Aye. They are my heart and soul. Truly, I do not think I would have survived to this day without them.”
Turning back to her children, she placed her hand on Isabel’s shoulder, murmuring, “Sweetheart. Awaken, now, darling. ’Tis time to get up.”
Isabel stirred, sighing and lifting her arm away from Lily, the doll Catherine had made for her when she was only a babe, to rub her fist across her eyes. Raising her head, she blinked a few times, finally staring ahead with a gaze almost identical to Catherine’s own.
Her delicate golden brows came together when she saw her mother, but she didn’t cry or start with fear. Instead, she whispered, “Mummy?” before blinking again. She let her mother take her hand, before releasing it and reaching up to stroke Catherine’s wet cheek. “Angels aren’t supposed to cry, Mummy. Have you come to visit us from heaven?”
Catherine’s throat squeezed tighter. “Nay, my love. Mummy isn’t an angel. I’m here, a real person just like you, and I’m going to bring you and your brother away to somewhere safe, where you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”
“Away from Uncle Eduard?” Isabel asked, hugging Lily close to her.
“Aye, sweetie. Away from Uncle Eduard and Faegerliegh Keep for good.”
A brilliant smile lit the little girl’s face. “’Tis what I asked God for, Mummy! I prayed and prayed that you would come back home again to take us away from here, and God listened, just like you said He would, if I was a good girl and prayed very hard.”
Catherine laughed through a fresh swell of tears, and Isabel wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, pulling her tight into an embrace. At the motion on the bed, Ian grunted and sat straight up, alert and bright as if he’d not been soundly asleep moments before; since infancy he’d come awake so, with enough energy, Heldred had always said, to drive the village mill for a week.
“Mummy, ’tis you!” he cried, scrambling over his sister to attach himself to her neck as well. “I knew Uncle Eduard told us a tale. I knew you hadn’t gone to live in heaven and left us here all alone.”
“Hush, darlings,” Catherine murmured, kissing their faces and hugging them hard to her. “We must needs be quiet and dress swiftly so that we can go from here with the nice men who are helping Mummy. Sir Alban will—”
