Chapter Two
Raven followed a short, young monkdown the hallway to meet her father. Willow walked behind her. Sage had stayed with Brother Nicolas. The monk leading them wore a brown robe that reached to the floor and swooshed with each one of his small steps.
Raven was stunned her father was in the chateau. He had told them he was working a job. While he rarely provided more details, she’d assumed he was helping a villager or hiring his sword out to a nearby lord. While she was shocked, it didn’t help ease her reluctance to see him. What was she going to tell him? They had purposely defied his order. Anxiety settled over her like a storm cloud.
The stone hallway was as cold as she felt inside. With each step, she attempted to formulate an excuse. She could blame it all on Sage, which would be the truth. But she knew her father would not accept that reasoning. She was the one he left in charge. She was the one her sisters were supposed to follow.
Raven searched the stone walls they passed as if they held the answer.
But only questions came to mind. Why was Fatherhere?
They turned a corner and continued down another hallway. A stone corridor dotted with wooden doors stretched before them.
A moment later, she realized one set of footsteps was missing. She cast a glance over her shoulder and found her sister was no longer following.
Raven stopped. “Willow?” she called, perplexed. She glanced at the surrounding doors, but they were all closed.
“This way,” the monk insisted quietly.
Raven hesitated, scanning the hallway. Where had Willow gone? “Willow?” she called again, her voice echoing through the corridor. She retraced their steps and peered around the corner, but the hallway was empty.
“Your father is this way,” the monk said with a hint of impatience.
Raven glared at him in annoyance. Could he not see Willow was gone?
His eyebrow rose imperiously.
Raven tapped her lower lip. Something must have caught Willow’s attention. Perhaps a hound to pet or…Raven thought feverishly…or a child to speak with. She clenched her lips. It was all too much to deal with. She’d speak with her father first. Together, they could find Willow. She might have gone back to be with Sage. Willow was certainly in the chateau somewhere.
With a sigh of resolution, Raven continued after the monk.
They turned another corner. Two more monks, wearing the same brown robes, passed them. They cast her a glance but moved on.
Finally, the monk she followed stopped at a wooden door. He paused to look back at her and then knocked.
After a moment, a man opened the door. He was tall, with black hair falling over his shoulders in waves. He had a square, clean-shaven chin; sharp black eyes that seemed to see everything; a straight, proud nose. He wore a black tunic that opened in avat the front. “We asked not to be disturbed,” he said in a harsh voice.
“My apologies, but Hawke has a visitor,” the monk explained.
The man’s dark eyes shifted to Raven and swept over her with a summative glance. A shiver coursed through Raven.
She immediately dismissed her reaction as irritation and her lips twisted in annoyance. “I’m his daughter,” she stated, tilting her head and putting her hands on her hips.
The door flew the rest of the way open. Her father’s imposing figure filled the frame. His dark hair was tied back from his face and his brown eyes were wide with surprise. Slowly, the shock drained from his face and a scowl of anger replaced it. “Raven.”
She swallowed and dropped her arms. Oh, she was in trouble. And without her sisters to back her up. She prepared to confront his wrath alone. She took a deep breath and greeted him. “Father.”
“Where are your sisters?” he demanded, looking down the hallway beyond her.
“They are here, in the chateau.”
His gaze settled on her again and he swung the door wide to allow her entry. He closed it right behind her, shutting out the monk. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his stern glare fixed on her. “You were to go to Sybil’s farm.”
She had practiced what she would say to him in her mind on the walk through the hallways, but now faced with his disapproval and anger, she floundered. She had to tell him the truth. “Willow found a book. Sage wanted to have someone read it. She insisted on coming to the chateau.”
Her father’s dark brow lowered farther. “And you allowed them to come here?”
Allowed? she thought. She hardly allowed them to come. Taking a breath, she acknowledged that regardless of what she told him, it would be her fault. She was the leader. She lifted her chin. “They were going to go without me. I couldn’t let them do that.”
