needed a moment to compose himself. In a half-snarl he related the morning’s confrontations, first with Prince John, then with the Dragon Wardieu. “I could not very well refuse his offer to release the Princess Eleanor,” he concluded harshly. “Nor could I consider leaving myself until this matter is resolved between us.”
“Which he counted upon, of course.”
“Of course.”
“How did he discover your secret?” Sparrow asked darkly.
“Not the way you think,” the Wolf snapped. “And not the way he would have me believe.”
“Forgive me, my lord, but are you so convinced of the chick-pea’s loyalty?”
In lieu of answering, the Wolf crossed over to the door of the pavilion and snatched the silk flap aside enough for a clear view of the sprawling tilting grounds. He scanned the seats in the main bower, easily identifying the Dragon and his maleficent consort, Nicolaa de la Haye. Seated on the other side of De Gournay was an inordinately subdued John Lackland, and to his left, the Bishop Gautier.
Friar’s expression was placid enough, yet it was obvious to a familiar eye that he was beginning to notice oddities and incongruities around him. There were distinctly more guards present in the crowds and on the sides of the field than was usual. And where there should have been discreet placements of black and gold blazons, there were none.
“Our men?” the Wolf asked.
“What few we have are well placed,” Sparrow assured him. “They will do nothing without your signal.”
“They will do nothing at all. The Lady Servanne’s life depends upon it.”
Sparrow flinched at the wrath in the Wolf’s voice. His own words came back to haunt him: Who fights the hardest also falls the farthest. He had been referring to the Lady Servanne’s probability of succumbing to the Wolf’s powers of persuasion. Never, in his wildest imaginings had he considered the opposite happening.
“Where is she now?”
“I do not know. My guess is the Dragon has her hidden away somewhere within the castle.” The Wolf turned from the door and Sparrow’s belly plummeted to his feet. “I never should have taken the chance with her life. I never should have let her leave the abbey, never should have met her last night, never should have touched her!”
God’s rood, he was rambling! Rambling and lovesick, drowning in emotions Sparrow suspected he had blocked from his senses for so many years, he was unable to deal with them. Revenge and hatred had been the cornerstones of the impenetrable wall the reborn La Seyne Sur Mer had erected around his heart. Guilt, love, even feelings of jealousy were as foreign to him as hands on a fish and he was just as helpless to know what to do with them.
Moreover, it was beyond conceivable thought to imagine what his reaction might be if these newfound emotions were found to have no basis in truth. If his love was betrayed or deceived, if his trust was spurned and his loyalty mocked, it would surely destroy him. It would destroy every other living thing around him as well, for his rage, if unleashed, would know no bounds.
Sparrow took a deep breath and forced a calmness in his voice he was far from feeling. “Hidden her away, you say? Even in a castle this size, the walls have ears and the windows have eyes. Someone will have seen where he put her. It is a challenge, make no mistake, but one I will embark upon willingly, if only to save myself the misery of listening to you bay at the moon each night … unless, of course, you plan to spare us all the trouble of planning our futures by ignoring the task before you?”
The Wolf flexed and unflexed his fists. His gaze remained clouded and unresponsive, his pain seeking the only outlet it knew: violence.
“Your brother is strong and dangerous,” the little man continued, blithely ignoring the bloodlust etched into the Wolf’s face. “He did not come by his reputation by chance or by underestimating his enemies. Proof thereof lies in the fact his spies were able to ferret out the identity of Randwulf de la Seyne Sur Mer.”
Keep talking, Sparrow told himself. Do not think of the size of his fists.
“You have prepared well for this day, but there are always the tinkerings of Luck, Fate, and Destiny to contend with. We shall have to put them out of the way at once by offering them no opportunities to interfere. Smite the Dragon square on the visor, the heart, or the gut.