Page 17 of While Angels Slept
“No need,” he said shortly, wanting very much off the subject. He abruptly stood up. “My lady, I thank you very much for the meal and conversation. If it would not be too much to ask, I would visit the wounded and be apprised of their conditions.”
He seemed edgy and Cantia stood up with him, wondering what she said to upset him so. Without another word, she led him out of the alcove and into the great hall, full of miserable men lying upon the floor. It smelled of smoke and blood.
As they visited the wounded one by one and discussed their condition, Tevin found himself paying more attention to the sheer grace and beauty of the lady rather than listening to what she was saying. Too soon, they were finished discussing the condition of the men and their purpose for conversation was over. It was growing late.
“If there is nothing else, my lord, then I shall put my son to bed,” Cantia said, glancing over at the boy as he inspected a soldier with a splint on his leg. “It has been a busy day for him.”
Tevin nodded. “I thank you for your attention to my men.” He eyed her as she bowed slightly to him, to excuse herself, and moved away. “My lady?”
She paused. “Aye, my lord?”
“Will you be all right tonight?” he lifted an eyebrow. “Should I check on you later to make sure?”
She knew what he meant and her embarrassment returned. She averted her gaze. “I will be quite well, my lord,” she assured him softly. “Moreover, you took the only weapon I had.”
“You can always obtain another one if the will is strong enough.”
She shook her head, firmly. “No need, my lord. But I thank you for your concern.”
Taking Hunt by the hand, she quit the hall with the big yellow dogin tow. Tevin swore that when she left, all of the light went out of the room.
*
Cantia awoke onthe floor of her bower. The bed was right over her head but she realized that she couldn’t bear to sleep on it any longer. The bed reminded her of her husband and it brought more distress than she could handle to sleep upon it. So she had slept on the floor, just as she had done since his death. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to sleep on the bed again.
She was slow to rise and even slower to dress. Shades of dawn were beginning to spread across the sky, growing brighter by the moment. But Cantia saw no magic in the sunrise. The last time she had gazed upon such a thing had been the day her husband had perished. She did not believe she would ever be able to gaze upon another sunrise as long as she lived and not think of that ominous morning.
After a brisk wash in the rosewater that the old servant woman had brought her, she donned a simple blue sheath and surcoat, securing it fast with a black broadcloth girdle. She rightly suspected she would be busy with wounded for the day and did not want to muss a finer garment.
Securing her magnificent hair in a thick braid that draped over her shoulder, she gazed at herself in the polished bronze mirror and thought that there was something different about her this morning. She didn’t look like a happy young girl any longer. She looked like a woman whose grief had matured her. She stared at herself until tears came to her eyes and then she put the mirror down. She couldn’t bear the reflection any longer.
Hunt was in the small landing outside when she came out of her chamber. He had his toys spread out all over the landing and top stairs, something that Brac had repeatedly admonished him against. Cantia found herself doing the same thing. Hunt made the effort to put a couple of wooden soldiers back in his room but then he began beggingfor food. Taking her son down to the living level, she passed by the solar on her way to the great hall and caught a glimpse of bodies in the small room. Pausing, she peered inside.
The lady knight was on her cot, sitting up against the wall. The lady knight looked at Cantia, nodding her head slightly as their eyes met. Cantia was about to say something to the women when movement caught her attention further off to her right. She had to step into the room to see who it was.
Charles Penden sat at the large table so often used by his son over the course of the years. She’d not seen the man for two days and now, he had appeared. He looked disheveled and she could smell his stench from where she stood. When his gaze found her, she instinctively tensed. She did not like the expression on his face.
He grunted at her. “This is not an infirmary,” he said. “Move this woman out.”
It was an order. Cantia’s mood was rapidly darkening. “She is injured. It would be painful and difficult thing to move her to the upper floors. ’Tis best that she recuperates down here where she can be watched with the rest of the wounded.”
She wasn’t being combative in the least, but Charles flew out of his chair and grabbed her by the neck. Hunt was shoved back out of the way with his grandfather’s swift moment, ending up on his backside. Startled, but not hurt, he burst into loud sobs.
Charles smelled of alcohol and sweat. His foul breath was in her face, his hand squeezing her neck. “I will not be challenged in my own house,” he snarled. “You will do as I say or I will turn you out. Do you hear me?”
He was hurting her, but more than that, she was angry. “Let go of me,” she hissed. “Have you gone completely mad?”
He struck her, then. Cantia’s head jerked with the force and she could taste the blood in her mouth. Lifting her hand, she was fully prepared to strike back to defend herself when Charles suddenly grunted and fell backwards. Cantia pushed the hair out of her eyes intime to see Tevin descending on the old man, moving in for a mortal blow with his enormously balled fist. She shrieked.
“No,” she grabbed his arm before he could strike again. “Please… no more, not in front of Hunt.”
The little boy was crying loudly on the ground. Cantia went to her son and swept him into her arms, whispering comfort to him as Tevin, exerting the greatest self-control, stepped away from the sprawled old man. His dark eyes were as hard as obsidian as he gazed at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, more concerned for Hunt’s state of mind than her own. But she tasted her blood and wiped at the trickle on her lip. “He did not hurt me.”
Tevin lifted an eyebrow. His entire face was taut with rage, so much so that his flared nostrils were white. He looked back down at Charles, still in a heap on the floor.
