Raven shook her head as she watched Sage walk away. She turned back to Willow.
Willow eased the book closed and tucked it away into a pouch, tying it to her belt. “She likes books.” She stood to face Raven. “And if it’s important to Sage, it should be important to you, too.”
Raven sighed. Willow was right. “It is. Except that if Father finds out what we’re doing, he’s going to be angry. And that’s more important to me.”
They arrived at the chateau by mid-morning and were escorted to Brother Nicolas in the catacombs of the keep. Raven vaguely remembered being here a long time ago. She recalled walking through hallways made of stone. Now, the hallways didn’t seem as tall.
Brother Nicolas sat behind a wooden desk with books stacked on both sides. He was hunched over one book and looked up when they entered. The escorting monk announced the Hawke girls and cast them an annoyed look before departing. Brother Nicolas was old, with hardly any hair on his head. The skin on his face was weathered and wrinkled. His back was arched beneath the brown monk’s robe he wore.
As they entered his chambers, he rose slowly and crossed the room to greet each of them with hearty embraces, as if they were longtime friends.
Raven half-heartedly returned the hug. She didn’t remember him, and his touch was uncomfortable for her.
When he finished hugging Sage, he clung to her, using her shoulder as a brace to return to his chair behind the desk. He sat down with a heavy sigh.
His blue eyes were wise, and intelligence shone from them. The corners of his lips had deep laughter lines. His skin sagged around his chin and strands of long white hair popped up from an otherwise smooth head. “It’s so good to see you girls, although I never would have recognized you.”
Willow smiled warmly at Brother Nicolas. She was the most social of them, and a simple glance could have men telling her what she wanted to know. Raven often wondered how she did it.
“You were this big,” he held out a hand three feet from the floor, “when I last saw you three. And you were a rambunctious lot!” He chuckled deeply.
“How long ago was that?” Willow asked.
He pursed his lips in thought. “Neigh on twelve summers.”
“Twelve?” Willow gasped.
Shortly after Mother died, Raven realized. Yes, that would make sense why she only vaguely remembered the chateau. It was long ago.
Brother Nicolas nodded. “Of course, you came back for visits. But not often.” He gazed at Willow through narrowed eyes of thought. “You must be Willow.”
Willow nodded, pleased.
He laughed and swatted his knee. “I remember those golden ringlets. Cried all night for your father. We didn’t know what to do with you! You drove Brother Peter mad.”
“She still drives some people mad,” Raven muttered.
“I’m so pleased you came to visit again,” Brother Nicolas said.
Raven sucked in her lower lip anxiously and looked at Willow.
“Well, actually, we came to ask a favor of you.” Willow untied the pouch to remove the book. “We would like you to read this to us.” She handed him the book.
Brother Nicolas took the book, angling it toward the light of the torch ensconced on the wall. He opened it and scanned the parchment pages. “Where did you get this?” The merriment left his voice.
Tingles of trepidation spread across Raven’s shoulders.
“It was a gift,” Willow explained.
“A gift?” Raven echoed as surprise washed over her. Sage and Willow had lied to her! They’d said Willowfoundthe book. Who had given it to her?
Sage stepped up to the desk anxiously.
“Hmmm.” He looked at the first page, leaning forward until his nose all but touched the parchment. A deep frown etched into his weathered forehead. He straightened and shifted his gaze to them. “Who gave you this book, child?” he asked in an almost whisper.
“A man,” Willow answered evasively.
Raven rolled her eyes and shook her head. Men always bestowed presents upon Willow. That didn’t ease her growing anger.
