Page 33 of Kingdom of Chains

Isabel closed some of the distance between them. ‘I was wondering if I might trouble you for some soup. It has been a long day of travel.’

Yvaine nodded. ‘I’ll bring a tray to your tent.’

Isabel swallowed. Soon she would have the opportunity to look at her properly, to touch her and confirm she was real. ‘Thank you.’ Turning, she headed back to the waiting guard.

The pair continued along the road that ran through the middle of the camp, passing the stables and barracks as they headed towards the large tents at the back. Each was big enough to stand up in.

‘That one’s yours,’ Webb said, gesturing to the one on the far left.

Isabel stepped inside and looked around. There was a cot with linen and blankets, plus a small table and stool. The bag containing her belongings had been brought in and sat on the end of the bed.

‘I’ll be outside,’ the guard told her. It came out more like a warning than a reassuring sentiment.

Isabel watched the canvas fall back into place, then paced the two strides of space between the table and the cot until the flap opened again and Yvaine finally appeared. She said nothing as she set the wooden tray down on the table, but her hands shook a little. Realising Webb was standing there waiting for the woman to exit, Isabel asked, ‘Could you help me unbutton my dress before you leave?’

‘Yes, my lady.’

Isabel looked back at Webb. ‘Are you planning on standing there and watching?’

He gave her another scowl before releasing the canvas.

Isabel went to check it was fully closed before rushing over to Yvaine and wrapping her arms around her. The woman held her as she had done so many times through her childhood, rubbing gentle circles on her back. Only when Isabel was sure she had control of her tears did she let go to look at her properly.

Yvaine smiled softly at her and whispered, ‘You are even more beautiful than I remember.’

‘And you arealive.’ Isabel’s eyes welled up.

Yvaine glanced nervously at the exit. ‘Lord Hodge has no idea who I am. He cannot know.’

Isabel had so many questions about that but so little time. ‘And Ita?’

A part of her already knew the answer. Who else would attach a daisy crown to the leg of the eagle they raised together? But it still felt like a flock of birds had taken flight in her chest when she heard it confirmed aloud.

‘Yes.’

Isabel pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stop from making any noise. Her shoulders shook for a few moments as all the grief, pain, and relief came to the surface.

Yvaine took hold of her hand. ‘They came when we were doing laundry at the river. She got away.’

Isabel searched her eyes. ‘They took you while you were doing laundry?’

A nod.

‘How long have you been in here?’

‘A little over a year.’

A year.‘Where is she? Where is Ita?’

Yvaine gestured for her to turn around and began unbuttoning her dress, speaking into her ear. ‘She lives with the St Clare group.’

It was not too much of a surprise that her dearest friend was part of one of the largest rebel groups in Carmarthenshire. ‘How do I find her?’

‘You cannot find her. They find you.’

Isabel turned back around. ‘Then how do I make that happen?’

Yvaine’s eyes filled with uncertainty. ‘He cannot know she is alive.’

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