“Then I am sorry for you,” he said evenly.
Rod nodded, his gaze riveted to his cousin. He simply couldn’t look at anything else. “It reallyisyou,” he exclaimed again. “I still cannot believe it. I do not even know where to start except at the beginning. How is it that you escaped de Velt? We thought you were dead!”
Rod had taken the conversation right to the core of the situation and it was difficult for Bretton to collect his thoughts. The entire situation was overwhelming him and he struggled to gain his bearings. It was difficult for him not to lash out right away, too, and he labored with his self-control.
“I was not dead,” he said steadily. “I escaped with a few servants and we ran for freedom.”
Rod listened with great interest. “And you are just now returning to Wales?” he asked. “But why have you not contactedus before now? I do not understand. And what is all this about you leading a mercenary army?”
Bretton could see that Rod was genuinely puzzled and evidently had no idea of the truth behind his questions. That ignorance made him furious and the control he was struggling with shattered.
“You have the boldness to ask such foolish questions?” he hissed. “Let me askyoua question. Why did no one ever come looking for me? Do you have any idea what happened to me after I escaped Four Crosses? I was kept as a slave and abused in ways I cannot speak of before I escaped and began to learn the life of a mercenary. I had no other choice, Rod, because my loving family, who is evidently so glad to see me now, never made the effort to locate me back then. Stop acting as if you care about me because your actions over the past twenty-five years tell me otherwise. I am here today for one reason and one reason only, and that is to discover why my family left me to the mercy of others. Well? Why did no one ever come looking for me?”
Rod was taken aback by the passion coming forth from Bretton and he was frankly astonished by the questions. He sat back in his chair, bewildered, as Bretton’s venom poured forth.
“Because we thought you were dead,” he said simply. “Four Crosses was taken over by de Velt and he killed the occupants. We naturally assumed you were one of the dead.”
“But you never made the effort to find out for certain?” Bretton said angrily. “How could you do that? How could you just assume I was dead and not find out for certain?”
Rod could see that the man was more hurt than angry. Given the circumstances as he saw them at this moment, he didn’t blame him.
“Bretton, please,” he said softly, trying to calm the man down. “I do not know the exact circumstances because I was a child myself, so I suppose this is a question you must ask ourgrandfather. I know he mourned your family deeply. He still does.”
Grandfather.The mention of the man took Bretton down a peg or two. His anger cooled a bit, thinking on the man he had loved so very much as a child. But his hurt, that deep despondency of abandonment from long ago, was overtaking him.
“Grandfather is still alive?” he asked quietly.
Rod nodded. “He is,” he said. “When I told him you might be alive after all, he went rather mad. He has been in a depression ever since because he does not believe it to be true. He thinks you are still dead.”
“Is that why he did not come?”
Rod shook his head. “He did not come because I did not tell him where I was going,” he said. “I wanted to see for myself if it was true first. I did not think the man could take a disappointment like that if the man calling himself Bretton de Llion was, in fact, not his lost grandson.”
Bretton eyed him. “Will you tell him it is me?”
“Of course I will.”
Bretton thought on that a moment. For the first time, he glanced over at Allaston, who was sitting quiet and still, watching the exchange. He couldn’t help but think that this was the same thing she had told him.They assumed you were dead. How were they to know where to look?In hindsight, he supposed she was right, but he still couldn’t get over that little boy who had prayed nightly for his grandfather to come and get him.
“I am sure he will not care,” Bretton said. Now, he was starting to feel sorry for himself. He reached out and poured himself a measure of Rod’s wine. “Now, I would ask you something, cousin. How is it you knew where to find me? And how did you know it was me?”
Rod watched Bretton take a long, deep drink of wine. “When you burned Alberbury, you gave a message to an old nun to deliver,” he said quietly. “The nun delivered it to some of Shropshire’s men, who in turn delivered it to my liege, Christopher de Lohr. De Lohr, knowing that I was related to the de Llions, summoned me to ask me if I had ever heard the name Bretton de Llion. You told the nun that you were at Cloryn Castle, so that is where I delivered the missive.”
It made sense. Bretton poured himself another cup of wine. “Did the nun do as she was told and deliver my message to de Velt?”
Rod shrugged. “I can only assume that de Boulers did,” he said. “Since the missive involved the capture of de Velt’s daughter, I am sure de Boulers did out of courtesy.”
Rod’s attention immediately moved to Allaston, sitting next to Bretton, and he was coming to think that she wasn’t so much Lady de Llion as she was his cousin’s prisoner. The knight in him, the protector of all that was good and pure, began to take over.
“And you, my lady,” he said quietly. “I assumed you were Lady de Llion but I am guessing that was an incorrect assumption. Am I wrong?”
Allaston, now at the forefront of the conversation, met Rod’s gaze steadily. She didn’t dare look at Bretton because she didn’t want to see his expression. It could have been one of intimidation or one of resignation. Either one was prone to upset her so she answered Rod of her own accord.
“Nay,” she replied. “I am Lady Allaston de Velt. Jax de Velt is my father.”
“Then you are his prisoner.”
“Aye.”
