Two hundred? Not that many, though it felt it.
“Not true,” Nicola muttered. It felt more. And that did not account for how it would feel with the passing of days between this one, when a missive had finally come from King William telling he would himself pass judgment on the rebel leader, and the day of his arrival at Red Castle. Of further concern was it could not be known when that would be since William’s missive said to expect him in his own good time.
The cur! Meanwhile, Vitalis languished in a cell beneath the great hall—blessedly out of Daryl’s reach, but also Nicola’s. If not for Maël apprising her of the prisoner’s well-being, though never did he carry words to her from Vitalis himself, she might believe the man she loved was dead.
Though she tried to be content with what he told her, she continued to press her cousin to find her a way past De Warenne’s guards so she could see for herself Vitalis was not mistreated—that Maël did not hide from her that the rebel leader suffered abuse when the Norman to whom he had yielded was not present.
She frustrated her cousin and brothers in the midst of greater frustration that now, when they should be searching for Theriot, who they revealed was missing, further they were delayed since the king was in no hurry to resolve what held the D’Argents at Red Castle.
Despite Nicola beseeching Guarin and Dougray to leave her with Maël and ride to where last their youngest brother was seen, they refused—and that refusal was more painful for how tempted they were to do as bid.
They had assured her she only imagined that temptation, but it had pulsed between them, allowing insight into their depth of unease though they said Theriot was capable of extricating himself if necessary, had he not already.
Thus, she prayed that her kin staying her side, which was also the side of Vitalis, did not end in tragic regret.
Nicola straightened from the wall of the alcove she had slipped into following supper, dropped onto the bench, and looked to the hearth that knew no flame nor smoke for the warmth of a summer night. Most of the men had gathered there, and of all, De Warenne was loudest. Any time another spoke over him, quickly and somewhat good-humoredly, he returned that man to his place.
Just as Nicola’s menfolk were not among those testing De Warenne’s patience, neither was Daryl. As observed often this past sennight, he distanced himself, either sitting and brooding and keeping watch over the D’Argents as if certain they intended to deprive him of a prize that did not belong to him, else departing the hall to walk the walls. The latter he had done this eve.
It made Nicola breathe easier that he was further distanced from Vitalis, but it did little to ease this restlessness tempting her to slip down the short corridor near the stairs, open the iron-banded door that accessed the cellar which housed stores of food and drink as well as prisoners, and hope Vitalis’s jailers had imbibed enough they would not know she had come and gone.
“Oh my heart, I must see him,” she whispered, and would have gripped her head in her hands had she not caught movement toward her.
It was the prince. In all these days, he had not approached as it appeared he did now—that or he did not see her in the shadows he also sought. As he wished her wed to a man of his sire’s choosing and caged at court, she rose with the intention of taking the stairs to the small chamber she shared with another of De Warenne’s wards—a young Saxon heiress of seven years whose boredom was occasionally relieved by Nicola allowing her hair to be fashioned in all manner of braids.
Were the girl not of good disposition and incredibly lonely, Nicola would not have indulged her. Thus, rather than hasten past the prince with chin high and head beautifully crowned in braids whose ends brushed her shoulders, it would have been a single fat braid flapping against her back.
She had only exited the alcove when Richard greeted her as he would one he had arranged to meet. “Lady Nicola, I am pleased to speak with you.” He gestured at the dim recess. “Sit with me.”
She met eyes that were on level with her own. “As it has been a long day, I hoped to find my rest, Prince Richard.”
His mouth quirked.