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her—the horrid smell, the decaying corpse.... If there was not yet disease in this small chamber, there would be soon. Panic-stricken that Edward might actually force her to remain within, she spun on her heel and ran for the door.
Abruptly, Graeye pulled herself back to the present. She did not need to relive any more of that night to exorcise her memories. There was not much else to them other than endless hours spent in prayer. Locked in the chapel, she had knelt before the altar and prayed for her brother's soul, and for her own deliverance, until dawn when a servant had come to release her. Since then she had not come near this place.
Groan's bark brought her head around. "What have you found?" she asked.
Crouching low, he pushed his paws beneath the kneeler and swatted at something that gave a high-pitched squeal.
"Is it a bird?"
A moment later she had her answer when a bird flew out from beneath the kneeler and swept the chapel, searching for its escape. Excitedly, Groan chased after it, but it was too fast.
It was a falcon—a young one, Graeye saw as she rushed to close the door so it would not escape into the rest of the castle. Had it escaped from the mews?
It took patience and much effort, but between Graeye and Groan chasing it about the room, the falcon finally found the small window and its freedom.
Holding onto the sill, Graeye watched the bird arc and dip its wings in the broad expanse of sky. She smiled and wondered what it would be like to be that bird. To fly free and—
At once she chastised herself for her foolish yearnings. There was nothing she had ever wanted as badly as to come home to Medland and assume her place as lady of the castle. In spite of all the obstacles she had encountered these past weeks, and the fact that she was to wed a man she loathed, she had never known greater fulfillment.
With the abbey forever behind her, her future was assured. That, no one could take away.
Chapter 2
T here were to be no more discussions of Graeye's marriage to William Rotwyld. Simply, there would be no wedding.
An air of import surrounded King Henry's knight as he strode into the hall five days later, his armed retinue following close behind to position themselves about the room. Clothed in chain mail, they wore no smiles, nor congenial air, that might mistake them for visitors simply passing through.
Realizing that something serious was afoot, Edward ordered all, except his steward and William, from the hall that he might receive the king's missive in private.
Graeye had not long to wait to learn what news had been brought to her father, for his explosion was heard around the castle. Thinking it time to intercede, she hurried into the hall, stumbling to a halt when she saw the half-dozen knights clamoring to hold her red-faced, bellowing sire from the messenger.
Eyes wide, she searched out William and found him beside the steward, his expression reflecting the other man's. Shock, disbelief, outrage ...
She moved forward uncertainly, and looked questioningly at the messenger when he turned to face her. "What has happened?" she asked.
His gaze swept her faded bliaut before settling upon her face framed by its concealing wimple. "And who are you?"
"My lord," she said, dipping a curtsy, "I am Lady Graeye."
His eyes narrowed on her. "Sir Royce Saliere," he stiltedly introduced himself. "You are a relation?"
Graeye's eyes flickered to her father before settling once again on the knight. "I am the baron's daughter."
The man looked surprised, but quickly recovered. "No longer baron," he said with a token shrug of regret. "By King Henry's decree all Charwyck lands have been declared forfeit and returned to the sovereignty of the crown."
Edward roared louder, raising his voice against God as he continued his struggle to free himself.
Feeling as if she had just been delivered the mightiest of blows, Graeye shook her head. It could not be true, she told herself. That King Henry would take from
Abruptly, Graeye pulled herself back to the present. She did not need to relive any more of that night to exorcise her memories. There was not much else to them other than endless hours spent in prayer. Locked in the chapel, she had knelt before the altar and prayed for her brother's soul, and for her own deliverance, until dawn when a servant had come to release her. Since then she had not come near this place.
Groan's bark brought her head around. "What have you found?" she asked.
Crouching low, he pushed his paws beneath the kneeler and swatted at something that gave a high-pitched squeal.
"Is it a bird?"
A moment later she had her answer when a bird flew out from beneath the kneeler and swept the chapel, searching for its escape. Excitedly, Groan chased after it, but it was too fast.
It was a falcon—a young one, Graeye saw as she rushed to close the door so it would not escape into the rest of the castle. Had it escaped from the mews?
It took patience and much effort, but between Graeye and Groan chasing it about the room, the falcon finally found the small window and its freedom.
Holding onto the sill, Graeye watched the bird arc and dip its wings in the broad expanse of sky. She smiled and wondered what it would be like to be that bird. To fly free and—
At once she chastised herself for her foolish yearnings. There was nothing she had ever wanted as badly as to come home to Medland and assume her place as lady of the castle. In spite of all the obstacles she had encountered these past weeks, and the fact that she was to wed a man she loathed, she had never known greater fulfillment.
With the abbey forever behind her, her future was assured. That, no one could take away.
Chapter 2
T here were to be no more discussions of Graeye's marriage to William Rotwyld. Simply, there would be no wedding.
An air of import surrounded King Henry's knight as he strode into the hall five days later, his armed retinue following close behind to position themselves about the room. Clothed in chain mail, they wore no smiles, nor congenial air, that might mistake them for visitors simply passing through.
Realizing that something serious was afoot, Edward ordered all, except his steward and William, from the hall that he might receive the king's missive in private.
Graeye had not long to wait to learn what news had been brought to her father, for his explosion was heard around the castle. Thinking it time to intercede, she hurried into the hall, stumbling to a halt when she saw the half-dozen knights clamoring to hold her red-faced, bellowing sire from the messenger.
Eyes wide, she searched out William and found him beside the steward, his expression reflecting the other man's. Shock, disbelief, outrage ...
She moved forward uncertainly, and looked questioningly at the messenger when he turned to face her. "What has happened?" she asked.
His gaze swept her faded bliaut before settling upon her face framed by its concealing wimple. "And who are you?"
"My lord," she said, dipping a curtsy, "I am Lady Graeye."
His eyes narrowed on her. "Sir Royce Saliere," he stiltedly introduced himself. "You are a relation?"
Graeye's eyes flickered to her father before settling once again on the knight. "I am the baron's daughter."
The man looked surprised, but quickly recovered. "No longer baron," he said with a token shrug of regret. "By King Henry's decree all Charwyck lands have been declared forfeit and returned to the sovereignty of the crown."
Edward roared louder, raising his voice against God as he continued his struggle to free himself.
Feeling as if she had just been delivered the mightiest of blows, Graeye shook her head. It could not be true, she told herself. That King Henry would take from
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