But, of course, it would be true; he was a sour-faced lout and Jack’s father had friends in high places—namely, her sister Matilda—but Jack was still just a boy, and his father was dead. The lack of sympathy in this man’s tone was no less than infuriating. Along with her sweet sister, that boy’s father had perished aboard the Whitshed, and this behemoth expected her to sit idly by and allow a young man to fend for himself in the face of this tragedy? “You expect me to do nothing?”
“I expect you to live to see another day. That is not nothing.”
Seren lifted her chin, curling her fingers into fists, only daring him to deny her. Perhaps there was naught she could do for Arwyn, but Jack was alive, and he needed help.
“I’ll not leave this city without that boy,” she said stubbornly. “And if you’ll not return to help him, I will.”
She narrowed her eyes in warning, tipping her chin skyward to remind him of the witchwind she’d conjured. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know how to use it, she would summon it if need be, along with the wrath of the Goddess herself. “If, in truth, you know who I am, you know what I am capable of, and I will do my worst if you stand in my way.”
For the most part it was a bluff. How could he—or anyone else—know what she was capable of if Seren didn’t even know herself? And yet if Morwen’s sorcery was any indication, she had a very good sense there was quite a lot she and her sisters had yet to learn. And, regardless, Wilhelm already knew what her mother could do; let him wonder if she could do the same.
And still, he wasn’t afraid, judging by the look on his face. But he was certainly flummoxed, and once again, he scratched the back of his head, perhaps considering what more to say. Seren longed to weep. She was already worn to bits, emotionally and physically, and this was only the beginning.
“M’lady,” he argued. “You mustn’t believe I would leave you undefended? And neither can you return to the harbor.” His voice held a note of compassion coupled with frustration. “What you ask is untenable.”
Glaring at him, she found a wellspring of stubbornness she hadn’t previously realized she possessed. “I’ll not go without Jack,” she maintained. “He has no one in England, and I will see him returned to his mother in Calais.”
“Warkworth is not Calais,” he argued. “Calais lies in the opposite direction.”
“And how will he get there without money?”
“How do you know he has no money?”
“How do you know he does?”
Seren placed her hands akimbo as he had, stubbornly refusing to give up. If naught else, his refusal would provide her a good reason to resent him, and sweet fates, she needed her anger as a balm. If she couldn’t help her sister, at least she should endeavor to help Jack.
They stood, at odds, both frowning at each other, and, at long last, he cast his hands up, and said, “Bloody hell! You cannot go, you cannot stay; what makes you believe that eegit will trust my word? Do I look like a man to be taken in confidence?”
“He’s no eegit,” Seren said. “He’s well learned and even knows how to read.” Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she studied her would-be champion.
In truth, he did not appear very amiable, and certainly not while in that confrontational stance. To make matters worse, that hideous scar across his brow put her in mind to a demon.
So, this was where they were? She must travel north, perforce, with a man she scarcely knew while her sister’s ashes drifted on the wind and a young lad starved on the streets in Dover? An overwhelming surge of emotion choked her again, and she said softly, swallowing a knot of grief. “Arwyn…”
“God’s bones! Putting yourself at risk will not bring your sister back,” he said, and Seren’s gaze snapped up to meet his. It struck her once more how tall he was.
“I know this, you dolt.”
She needed time to think… if only he would leave her be for a while… she could consider her best course of action—if, indeed, she did not seek a quiet place in the woods to hide beneath a pile of bracken and sleep for a hundred years.
For all she knew Rosalynde was at Aldergh, not Warkworth, and perhaps he was only telling her what she wished to hear in order to ensure her compliance. It could be that he intended to return her to his brother by hook or by crook—and then what? As conniving as it might seem, her best course might be to insist he go after Jack, then steal away while he was gone.
By all rights she should be petrified of this man and concerned for her own safety. But, in fact, Seren was too grief-stricken to care what happened to her. And anyway, even if she did slip away, could she possibly make it all the way to Aldergh, alone—without Arwyn?
The very thought made her eyes swim, because, in truth, she wouldn’t be so constrained. Her sister’s lack of ability had left them both disadvantaged.
Even so, Aldergh was a long way away, and, at the instant, she had no silver or gold. She wasn’t even sure poor Jack had a copper to his name. Whatever coins she herself had possessed were lost with her sister, and young as the boy was, she was certain his father wouldn’t have given his son bait for thieves. There had been no reason to believe that ship wouldn’t be there, awaiting their return… except that it wasn’t. And, for certes, Seren would be as horrid a person as her mother if she abandoned Jack to the city without a coin to his name. She’d heard terrible stories of what happened to young boys on their own. His voice might be breaking now, but he was by no means a man.
“You leave me no choice,” Wilhelm said. “If I abandon you here… alone… you’ll be as vulnerable as your sister. We know how that turned out?”
There was genuine frustration in the man’s tone, but he was far too plainspoken, and his proclamation was ill-timed. Seren glared up at him. “Need you remind me?” she rebuked, thinking him daft. Clearly, he knew naught of subtleties or manners, blurting whatever came first to his tongue. Fresh as it was, she was hardly in danger of forgetting her sister was dead.
Goddess lend me strength.
Thankfully, he had the good graces to blush, but then, he stood silent, mulling over the options, much as Seren was doing, and she was grateful for the silence—even if she knew he was bound to be forming another argument.
Indecision tormented her; truly, even if he relented and went after poor Jack, she couldn’t abandon that boy to this man’s keeping. Wilhelm would dispense of him the instant he could. And neither did she sense he would allow her to leave in peace. He’d come all this way, searching for her, and it wasn’t likely he would leave now that he’d found her.
And still… if she accompanied this man to Warkworth and all his lovely assurances proved false… or if Rosalynde wasn’t there waiting for her… and if somehow Giles was allied with her mother… what if he forced her into wedlock? Then what? Her best opportunity to escape was… here and now.
What should I do, Rhiannon? she inquired of the aether.
Her sister didn’t respond—or perhaps couldn’t. So far as anyone knew, mindspeaking was not possible outside proximity, and it must be true, because if anyone could do it, Rhiannon could. The situation seemed hopeless. Not in all her days had Seren felt so utterly bereft. She was nearly twenty-two now, and not a single day during the course of her life had she not had at least one of her sisters by her side. Till very recently, she’d been blessed to have them all.