Page 79 of The Scot

Chapter 32

“’Tis odd to be in the hall and not at a meal,” Idalia said to Roysa. They sat side by side in the hall, along with Lance and Rory. They were not at the dais but beside it. The dais itself had been cleared of all furnishings and awaited, as did the rest of them, for Terric to appear.

“There’s Cait,” her sister said.

Winding her way through the waiting crowd of men, English and Scottish, Cait finally sidled up to them. Other than a brief glance, she said nothing.

Roysa suspected she’d been to see Terric.

Terric, who’d kissed Roysa. Who’d rejected her. Who was alone in his solar, making a decision that would affect every single person in the hall. What a heavy responsibility he faced.

“Are you scared?” Idalia whispered.

She should be. But she trusted him to do what was right. “Nay. Are you?”

Idalia nodded.

Lance must have heard her because Roysa saw him grab her hand. She couldn’t hear what he said to her, but Roysa was thankful he was there to comfort her.

“My father has gone to battle many times,” she said to Cait, who’d approached their table. “Every time, he returned. I have to believe they’ll prevail.”

“There will not be a battle.”

Roysa startled.

“Dromsley Castle will declare a siege.”

“They will?” The news surprised her. “But I thought Terric was opposed to a siege?”

Cait glanced at the others and then tugged on her sleeve. Roysa understood what that meant—she knew something but was not yet ready to share it with everyone—and so she followed her away from the table.

“To my brother, a siege is a victory for the king.”

“Of sorts.”

“Aye,” Cait agreed. “To Terric, there can be nothing worse.”

“Than to be bested by a king he hates.”

“Aye.” Cait looked toward the hall’s entrance. “He’s waited a lifetime to get revenge.”

Roysa looked into Cait’s honey-brown eyes. “He has good reason to want it.”

Cait did not disagree. “But some things are more important than revenge.”

“You’re not worried the order’s supporters will defect if there’s a siege?”

“Lance does not believe they will. But I don’t speak of the rebellion.”

Roysa blinked as her friend’s meaning dawned on her. Cait was a smart woman who knew her brother well. She had been right to believe he still lived. But in this, she was wrong. Terric did not believe he could have both his rebellion, his revenge, and Roysa—and so he’d walked away from her. Terric cared for her. Desired her.

It had not been enough. Although he’d claimed he still wanted to court her, slowly, she knew what that meant. If he wished to wait for peace, she’d become an old woman waiting. He’d kissed her, aye, and what a kiss it had been . . . but she suspected that kiss had changed nothing.

“He has already chosen,” she whispered. “This time, you are wrong.”

A cheer went up, bringing an end to their conversation. They watched as Terric made his way to the dais.

If he’d struggled with his decision this eve, none would know of it.