Page 38 of Peregrine's Call
“Nothing bad happened,” she assured him. Since they were in little danger of being overheard up on the walk, she quickly explained Pierce’s request.
“In truth,” she concluded, “I’m not sure he’s entirely sane. He seems to see enemies everywhere.”
“He’s made a lot of enemies with all his plots,” Octavian said.
“But to think his own guards are restricting his movements? To say that he’s a prisoner in his own castle and that you—practically a stranger—are the one man he trusts to get him out? I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either, but my own mission was to get the information that the mythical Govannon claimed to have. Now I know that Pierce is the true holder of that information.”
“So I’ll tell him you’ll help?” she asked dubiously.
“Yes, give your signal. And then we’ll have to see what he does next.”
After speaking with Tav, Robin retreated to her bedchamber, finding that it was occupied. Govannon stalked the perimeter, his paws silent on the stone floor, his gaze locked on the shadowy spaces under the bed and in the corners.
Robin sank to the edge of the bed, watching the predator’s progress through the room. Her mind tumbled over the strangeness of this place. Pierce was supposed to be a terrible person, according to all the stories she heard, and yet he’d been very attentive and kind to her this morning.
The white cat jumped onto the bed and stared at her with unblinking, amber eyes. Govannon was a gorgeous creature, big and sleekly muscled under the pure white coat. He flexed his paws, revealing claws as sharp as dagger points.
“You’re a killer,” she told the cat.
He meowed in response, then approached her, bumping his head against her leg until she began to pet him. That made him purr, a rumble of contentment that was surprisingly soothing.
“I have no food for you,” she said, though the cat didn’t seem to want food, only affection.
She was petting the cat when the maid Irene came in with folded clothes over her arms.
“Ah, my lady. I didn’t know you were in here.”
“Carry on whatever you need to do,” Robin said, still petting Govannon, who had gone still at Irene’s entrance.
“Gone riding with the lord, did you?” the maid asked.
“Yes, all the way to that hill the fairies guard.”
“Your soldier didn’t join you.”
“He had his own business,” Robin said. “Though I’m sure he would have joined us if I asked.”
“You seem to know him very well, considering that you only encountered him a short while ago.”
Robin said, “Some people inspire trust. Sir Octavian is one of them, at least in my opinion. He saved my life, and I don’t want to hear any nonsense about who I choose to travel with.”
“My lady, I meant no offense.” But the maid had a sly look in her eyes, and Robin feared she’d said too much. But how could she keep silent?
“No matter,” said Robin. “I think I’ll rest this afternoon. Would you wake me before supper, if I fall asleep?”
That evening, Irene dressed Robin in a different gown, this one a deep blue silk that was blessedly free of the fur trim, but still with a neckline that dipped lower than Robin would like, and with a bodice that was laced up tighter than she thought necessary.
“Can’t you loosen it?” she asked Irene.
“Why would you want that?’ the maid asked blankly. “Men want a pretty figure to look at.”
Robin sighed and gave up trying to explain that she wanted to breathe more than she wanted admiration. She walked into the great hall with her head held high, repeating to herself that she could get through this.
“My lord,” Robin said once she sat down at the table. “I found a dead mouse on my pillow today. Is that your cat’s handiwork?”
Pierce’s eyes gleamed in satisfaction, but he sounded very apologetic when he said, “Govannon is barely civilized, my lady. I’m sure he meant it as a gift, but I’ll speak to him later about such activities and how unwelcome they are to ladies.”
