Page 13 of The Scot

“Us. Come against us.”

She liked this less and less.

“Idalia . . . you are in danger.”

“As are you. Which is why you cannot stay here. As soon as the storm passes—”

“No.” She used her best big-sister tone this time. “I will not leave you.” Roysa pursed her lips, waiting for Idalia to contradict her. Thankfully, she did not.

“The king knows the identity of most, if not all, of the rebels. His response so far has been tempered, aside from FitzWalter’s imprisonment, and he released him before too long. ’Tis said he did so for fear of the pope’s reaction.”

“Does the pope support John or the rebels?”

Idalia frowned. “John. But only after the king pledged himself to the Crusade. Still, his rule is so detested, the pope’s support has had less influence than we assumed it would. None of the barons who pledged their support have withdrawn it. There’s hope the king will do as he says and treat with them in the spring.”

Roysa shook her head. “He is delaying.”

“Aye. Which is why I am here and Guy Lavallis and his wife are with Conrad at Licheford.”

In response to her questioning look, Idalia explained further. “We are preparing for a possible attack.”

“Saint Rosalina” she exclaimed, earning a disapproving look from her sister. “I cannot say I was expecting all of this.”

A pounding at the door interrupted them.

“Lady Roysa?” a voice called.

“Or him. ’Tis the lord, is it not?”

Idalia nodded. “Though I cannot imagine what would bring him to your door at this hour. And he sounds angry.”

After all she’d learned, Roysa was a mite angry herself. Her sister had embroiled herself in a plot against the King of England. She’d dearly love to know how a blacksmith had earned a pivotal role in such a plot.

But first she had to deal with the brute on the other side of the door.