Page 90 of The Knight’s Reward

And it worked.

“If anyone should ask for me, please tell him . . . them . . . I am safe.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Thankfully, they were situated in the northeast quarter of the city, the Tower a short ride away. As Kathryn passed a water mill and rode along a small stream, she felt a familiar tightening of her chest. So very many things could go wrong. But instead of allowing panic to overtake her, she thought of waking up during the night in Neill’s arms. He’d fallen asleep, or had she done so first? It had felt so natural. So comfortable. She’d spent much of the morning dreaming about what it would be like to wake up thusly every day.

Ignoring a few odd looks as she rode down the narrow road, a chapel to her right and monastery to her left, Kathryn spotted her destination ahead. The journey to the Tower was only one of many challenges she would need to overcome that day.

Gaining entry would be the next.

She had been here many, many times, even when the king was not in residence. Kathryn approached the Coldharbour Gate at the southwest corner of the Tower, preparing for the questions she would inevitably face. A lady riding up to the king’s castle, alone, on horseback was hardly a normal occurrence.

“Good day,” she said to one of the guards, who gave her a dubious look. Kathryn could see the inner ward through the raised gate—which looked like, but was not, an invitation to enter.

“Lady Kathryn Wyld, daughter of Richard Wyld—”

“The missing messenger to the king,” he finished for her.

Kathryn was not sure if his immediate recognition of her father should please or worry her, but she’d hoped for it regardless. It would be easier to gain an audience this way.

She shivered at the thought.

Still, he eyed her suspiciously as other visitors rode past.

“Not missing,” she clarified. “Dead.”

He and another guard exchanged glances, both of them obviously leery of her claim.

“My father served King Henry loyally for more than twenty years. It was he who carried the message to King Louis that confirmed our king as the legitimate ruler of Gascony and avoided war with France. I am well known to the queen, whom I served once, if you will allow me entry to gain an audience.”

And that easily, she was nodded onward. Whether they believed her or, more likely, did not see a lone woman on horseback as a threat, Kathryn could not be sure.

She was inside. The bustle reminded her of the years she’d spent here, and also of Kenshire. Knights passed her as they made their way to the training yard. Mothers chased after their children. Servants scurried from one building to the next.

She knew whom she needed to find in order to gain the audience she desired. Her name was Rosalind, and she’d served as Mistress of the Robes to two queens. An imposing figure with white hair piled atop her head always, Rosalind was known as a hard woman. Unkind, some would say, Kathryn had seen many girls run from her chamber in tears, though, oddly, she never had trouble with the woman.

Making her way to St. Thomas’s Tower, Kathryn gained entrance easily. No one so much as glanced her way, a feat accomplished by the modifications she’d so hastily made to her gown. Kathryn could fit in here, and she did.

“Pardon me,” she said to a serving girl when she entered the great hall, “I am looking for Mistress Rosalind . . .” Before she even finished the question, the girl was pointing toward the Presence Chamber, a guarded space.

“Many thanks,” she said loudly. The hall was as noisy as she remembered it.

Just as she’d done at the gatehouse, Kathryn announced herself to the guard who stood at the entrance to the Presence Chamber. Within minutes, a familiar wrinkled face stood before her.

Eyes wide, Rosalind blinked in surprise and then did something quite rare for her.

She smiled.

“You are alive.”

“Aye,” she said, moving to the stone wall at the side of the hall as the guard watched them. Rosalind walked with her.

“Your father?”

Kathryn shook her head.

“I am sorry, my lady. He was a good man.” She cocked her head to the side. “Who simply disappeared?”