“And your sister?”
“I am told she will be joining us this evening, unharmed.”
Guy puffed out his cheeks. It was a lot to absorb. “My God,” he breathed. “I wish I had been here sooner. Perhaps I could have helped.”
“I appreciate your support, but I am sure there is nothing you could have done,” she said.
Guy smiled at her, a bashful gesture. He seemed mildly awkward at ease, like a shy adolescent. “Would… would you mind if I sat next to you, my lady? I feel as if we are shouting at each other across the table and I suspect this conversation is not something we would want others to hear.”
She saw no harm in it. “I’d be pleased.”
He wasted no time in rounding the table and taking a seat next to her. With another shy smile, he collected his goblet and took a healthy drink of his wine. As the conversation stalled, Sheridan looked around the room, seeking her sister.
“I was sorry to hear about your father’s passing,” Guy said. “My father was very distressed.”
She looked at him, forcing a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I know my father thought very highly of Sir Reginald. Did he come with you?”
Guy shook his head. “We’ve problems on the Marches. He is needed more there.”
“Ah,” she understood. “I have heard from my father that you have had much trouble as of late.”
Guy shrugged. “They wish to rule their own lands. We wish to rule it for them.”
She shook her head, taking another sip of her wine. “It seems that war and rebellion are everywhere.”
Guy did not respond directly. He changed the subject. “Salisbury should be joining us shortly. Truthfully, I thought he would be here by now.”
It occurred to them both that the room seemed to be oddly absent of the king’s opponents. Sheridan and Guy seemed tobe the only pair with the exception of Hugh de Burgh on the opposite side of the room. He’d not acknowledged them; in fact, Sheridan didn’t know him on sight but Guy did. He had pointed the man out to her. Sheridan was coming to wonder if Alys would ever join them, and she was furthermore coming to feel nervous about the atmosphere of the entire room. As the celebration of King Henry’s death twenty years earlier, it was naturally full of John’s supporters. Her uneasiness grew.
If Guy felt it, he did not say so. Though seemingly a slip of a man, he nonetheless had a great maturity about him. Growing up in the ruthless House of de Braose had done that for him. The family had a history of brutes and deviants, interspersed with men of good character. According to her father, Guy was one of those blessed with such noble traits. Sheridan could sense that.
The clear sound of coronets suddenly pealed throughout the room, announcing the arrival of the king. The entire chamber jumped in anticipation. As Sheridan and Guy rose to their feet, Sheridan heard someone hissing behind her.
She turned, seeing her little maid cowering against the wall. The girl looked terrified and Sheridan immediately went to her.
“What is it?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”
The girl looked as if she’d been weeping. “My lady,” she whispered. “Sir Neely… he is come back.”
“Where is he?”
“At the apartment, my lady. He is badly hurt.”
Sheridan’s heart lodged in her throat. “Hurt?” she repeated, shocked. “What happened?”
The girl shook her head, wiping her nose. “He would not say. He is on the floor of the chamber. I think he is dying!”
Sheridan fought her panic. Guy had walked up behind her, listening. When she turned around, he was standing there.
“I must leave,” she said to him.
“I heard,” he replied. “Who is Sir Neely?”
Sheridan realized that she was actually shaking. “The captain of my guard. He was in the vault this afternoon.”
Guy’s features tightened. “It sounds as if the king’s men have had a little fun with him.”
Sheridan couldn’t manage a reply. She was heading for a side exit just as the king was entering the hall. Guy thought perhaps it would be the chivalrous thing to escort her. He had no idea it was the worst move he could ever make.