“Lothair has Ulrik,” murmured Aimon. “And the binding amulet.”
“Wehaveto rescue Ulrik and get it back.”
The ferocity of Erin’s tone startled Kathryn.
“I found the amulet that brought me here in an underground cell beneath Langeais Keep. It was with a headless human skeleton and a wolf’s skull. A werewolf dies in that cell. A werewolf wearing one of these amulets,” she said, pointing to the one around Gaharet’s neck. “I didn’t survive only to have Gaharet die. I won’t let him die.”
“All will be well,ma petite pouliche,” murmured Gaharet, pulling Erin closer to him.
Kathryn ached at the tenderness between them, at the gentle way he brushed a strand of hair from Erin’s face. How his tone softened when he called her his little filly. Aimon’s hand squeezed hers. She glanced up at him. His blue eyes radiated warmth. There was that look again, the one her father had spoken of. Did Aimon truly care for her? As Gaharet did for Erin?
“We will save Ulrik and we will find this traitor,” Gaharet assured Erin. He turned to Kathryn. “We need your help. Tell me everything you remember about your attack.”
Chapter Thirty
Kathryn studied Gaharet as she told her story of the fateful day her aunt had died. Pain flashed in his eyes, and also anger. She did not envy this traitor the day Gaharet discovered his identity. Was what she had told him enough? Did he now know who they could no longer trust?
“I need you to close your eyes and think back to when you saw him. Can you do that for me, Kathryn?”
She nodded, and the image of the half man, half wolf, forever etched in her memory, flashed across the back of her eyelids.
“Did you notice anything other than the color of his wolf?”
She focused on the moment she had first climbed the rock, her view obscured by branches, and peered over. “He had brown hair and wore a fur-lined surcoat. I…” Kathryn frowned. “I cannot remember the color. And mail like my father’s.”
Her shoulders sagged. All Gaharet’s men wore mail and surcoats. Four of them had brown hair. If the color of her hair and the resulting color of her wolf were any indication, four of them would shift into brown wolves. Godfrey, Aubert, Edmond and Lance, though Lance’s hair now had streaks of gray.
“Do you remember how tall, how large he was?”
Kathryn shook her head. “I…”
“I know you were only a child,” said Gaharet, “and he would have seemed large to you, but how much taller than my mother was he? You are similar in height to her now. Imagine it was you and I in that clearing. Was he bigger than me, or of similar size?”
Kathryn cast her mind back, doing as Gaharet suggested, imagining her in her aunt’s place. She shivered. Aimon’s hand tightened around hers, and she was grateful for his touch.
“Your height, your size.”
“Are you certain?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes. Taller than my father, but similar in height to you.”
“That rules out Edmond and Aubert. They have always been larger than the rest of us, even as boys.”
She hung her head. “I am sorry I cannot remember more.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Kathryn. What you have told us has helped us beyond measure.”
“Well,” said Erin, slapping her palms on the table. “I think Kathryn could use a break. While you men strategize about our next move, I’ll take Kathryn for a walk to the pond. We can get some fresh air, gossip, talk about you men…”
Both Aimon and Gaharet growled.
Erin laughed and waved a dismissive hand at the men. “Oh, only the good stuff, I promise. We won’t say anything bad about you, will we, Kathryn?”
Gaharet scowled. “It is not safe for you to be out alone, neither of you. I have no plans now, or in the future, to let you out of my sight.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Why don’t weallget some fresh air?”
Gaharet considered her suggestion. “Very well,” he said, relenting, his frustration evident. “We will all go.”