Kissing the Bride (Medieval 4)

Henry stared at her, as if stunned by her words. Had he only just realized how much Raf loved him? But perhaps he had, Jenova thought wildly. After all, Henry had come from a childhood where love had been a rare commodity.

“He came back with you, Henry, didn’t he?” she went on. “You did bring him back to Gunlinghorn?

Now Henry looked incredulous. “Of course I did! I don’t have him in my pocket, Jenova, if that’s what you think. I brought him back, then Agetha came to fetch him and took him away. I have not seen him since.”

“Agetha says she has not seen him since that time, either.”

They were silent, both caught in their own private fears.

“Did you tell him that you were leaving us?” Jenova asked abruptly, not caring if Reynard overheard her, only intent upon getting to the bottom of this mystery. “Was he upset?”

Henry tried to remember. “I said something about the king eventually needing me back at court. He wanted…he asked if I would stay at Gunlinghorn. I didn’t want to promise something I could not…” He cleared his throat, not meeting her eyes. “He wasn’t upset. I did not upset him. He understood. The ride was enjoyable, and he was a little tired, but that is all.”

Of course Henry would not upset Raf. Jenova knew it. Just as Raf loved Henry, Henry loved Raf. Loved him like his own son. In the midst of her pain she realized something else about Henry—his willingness to forsake Raf rather than tell her his secret must mean it was something very terrible indeed.

Something she might not want to hear.

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away.

“Raf? Where is Raf?” she whispered. “Henry, where is he?”

Fear and doubt and then anger flared in Henry’s eyes, and suddenly he was all action. He turned to Reynard, giving orders in a confident and sure voice. “Get some men together and search every inch of Gunlinghorn—keep and yard, stable and storerooms. Everywhere. And ask everyone—Everyone!—when they last saw Master Raf. We need to discover where he went after Agetha left him.”

“Aye, my lord.” Reynard was gone, taking big strides, his shouts ringing through the yard as he reached the door.

Jenova stared after him, not knowing what to do. After a moment she turned and found Henry watching her, the pain in his eyes mirroring her own. “Be reassured, my love. He will be found,” he said quietly. “We will find him.”

She nodded, then nodded again. She felt lost, as if she were drifting. Suddenly everything that had seemed so important to her a moment ago meant nothing. She needed her son; if he was not safe, then nothing else mattered.

Jenova swallowed. She must not break. Henry would find him—Henry might not trust her, but she trusted Henry. He was strong and clever, and he would find her son for her and return him to her arms. She was made of stronger stuff than this, and it was time to show it.

Jenova straightened her back. “Thank you. I will go and speak with Agetha again. If you want me—”

He nodded, grim-faced. He knew better than to take her in his arms.

Jenova walked away, keeping herself upright with an effort. She felt fragile, close to shattering. If he had touched her again, reached for her, she would have fallen into pieces. She had never felt so alone, and she did not like it.

She found Agetha in the solar, folding clothing. The girl straightened up, her face flushed from bending over the trunk, the scent of lavender drifting about her. “My lady!”

?

?Agetha, my son…I am sure it is nothing, but it seems my son is not to be found. Have you seen him?”

Agetha shook her head, her eyes wild. “Nay. Not since he came back from his ride with Lord Henry. He was weary, so I brought him to his room to rest. When I looked in later, he was gone.”

“Gone? Gone, where? Where could he have gone?”

Agetha seemed startled by Jenova’s aggression. “I…I don’t know, my lady.”

Jenova went to the window, her skirts swirling about her, and opened the shutters, uncaring if the air was bitter. It suited her mood. The sun was almost set, the shadows were growing long and blacker. It would be night soon. Cold and dark. How would they ever find one small boy?

“My lady, I am sure that everything will end well,” Agetha said in a tentative, anxious voice.

But Jenova did not hear her.

“Is this the man?”

Reynard nodded. Both he and Henry stood a moment beyond the door, staring at the thickset young man who was waiting, shifting nervously from foot to foot, in the guardhouse. As if he sensed their eyes upon him, the man glanced up and saw them, and stilled. By the single candle it could be seen that his round and honest face was pitted with old scars, and his eyes were apprehensive.