Page 21 of The Thornwyck Rose

THE YELLOW KINGCUP

CASTEL THORNWYCK, MARCH 1086

The frost had retreated.The early spring evening whispered lies to the body, hinting at warmth but carrying the tail edge of winter in its breath.

Seren couldn’t sleep. Henry had ensured she stayed in the keep to protect his child, but the stone walls had grown too restrictive.

Her handmaids had dozed in their alcove, and the castle felt too still as the sun set. The child pressed against her ribs, restless as she was. A long string of pain snaked down her leg. Her body begged her to walk, so she wrapped herself in her thickest cloak and tried to sneak away.

But Margot jolted.

“Only to the garden,” she whispered to Margot. “No farther.”

Isolde shook her head. “Lord Henry?—”

“Well, Lord Henry isn’t carrying a child,” she said. “I need to be outside. You can either come or stay.”

Margot and Isolde shared a glance. The dark circles under their eyes gave away their weariness from tending Seren’s swelling belly.

Isolde finally patted Margot’s shoulder. “I’ll go with her;we will likely be stopped by the guards anyway.” She hid her yawn and went with Seren.

The Saxon guard at her door, Godric, held up his hand. “I’m sorry, Lady de Thornwyck; Lord Henry wants you in bed, for the betterment of the child.”

“The child does not want to be in bed and forces me to walk. If you’d rather not allow me to leave, then say you were in the garderobe,” she whispered.

He thinned his lips and walked off toward the toilet.

“One guard down,” Isolde murmured.

Seren sighed and slipped down the stairs, glanced at the council chamber doors where Lord Henry was with Commander de Montfort, and continued to the ground level.

The guards at the tower stairs tried to stop her.

“Lady de Thornwyck, you cannot leave the keep,” one called, but the burst of cool, fresh air hit her in the face.

She stood with her arms out to her side and drew in a deep breath—a small freedom, though false. “I will be in the garden should Lord Henry need me.”

The half-words sputtering from the guards made her move fast before they changed their minds. It wasn’t total defiance. She wasn’t leaving the castle, only going to the bailey garden within the palisade. Seren didn’t think anyone should question a wife heavy with child seeking air after dinner, but they all feared Lord Henry. She did too if she were honest. It settled like a snake ready to strike, but she’d pushed it to the edge of her mind. The baby would be her child of the Welsh, not his, not one meant to be caged by stone walls.

She strode to the steep flying causeway, down the wooden planks, leaving the guards behind. She was almost to the bailey when Commander de Montfort, flanked by two knights, Master Geoffrey de Bramber and one she knew as Captain Jovin de Léry, appeared at the base, blocking her path.

They locked eyes.

He scanned her and then Isolde.

“Commander, I thought you were in the council chamber with Lord Henry,” Seren said, her heartbeat quickening.

“He summoned us. Heading there now,” he replied, with no empathy in his voice, yet a wave of concern crossed his eyes. “You should not be out here.”

She lifted her chin. “I needed air. The child does too. He’s restless. I was going to the garden.” The words were fast as she wondered if he’d let her go or bring her back to her prison.

He peered over his shoulder at Master de Bramber. His weight shifted. “I will escort you. You should not be alone, even with your handmaid. Your time out of the keep will be quick.”

She suppressed a smile. “Yes, Commander. Thank you for your escort.”

He held a gaze with the two men by his sides, longer than Seren thought necessary, until they both nodded. Then he followed her to the gardens.

The familiar scents of home replaced the stench of men and war. Her hand hovered over the fresh yellow blooms as she walked the path. She glanced back, and both Isolde and Commander de Montfort were walking at a distance.