WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,28

less patience she felt.

“Greetings, Father,” she said evenly. “I went into Haltwhistle. Where did you think I had gone?”

By Gilbert’s expression, it was clear that he wasn’t sure how to react to her. He was torn between being glad to see her and being angry that she had left in the first place. His gaze moved nervously to the knights, confused by their appearance. Isalyn’s defiant attitude wasn’t helping.

“You have my thanks for escorting my daughter home,” he said to Tor, who happened to be closer. “I am Gilbert de Featherstone. You are welcome in my home.”

Tor eyed the man before removing his helm. “I am Tor de Wolfe,” he said, gesturing to Nat. “This is my cousin, Nat Hage. Finding your daughter in town was a coincidence, I assure you. We were passing through because we were on our way to Featherstone. We have business with you, my lord. Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”

Gilbert looked rather confused by, and perhaps wary of, the request, but he nodded quickly. “Of course,” he said. “Come inside. I fear it is to rain soon, so permit me to show you my hospitality. Let us take comfort in my hall.”

Enbarr was tethered next to a trough, shoving his face into the water and alternately drinking water and blowing bubbles, but when a stable servant came to take the horse, Tor quietly snapped at the man and told him to leave the horse alone. He didn’t like anybody touching his horse but, more than that, he had a body strapped to the saddle and he didn’t want the servants getting wise to it.

The servant backed away.

Tor and Nat followed Gilbert through a door that led to a wide, curving stone staircase. The steps were long and flat, and they followed the man up the flight until they reached what was a small foyer. The foyer opened up into a large hall that spanned the entire front of the manse, from one end to the other, including the gatehouse. There were two wells in the middle of the chamber where the portcullises would sit when they were raised, as they were now. It was like having two big grates in the middle of the chamber, which made it quite strange, but the hall was big enough that it really didn’t matter.

In fact, Tor was surprised at how grand the hall was. There was an enormous hearth made from cut stone, with angels and demons carved into it in an elaborate artistic fashion. Tor was quite fascinated with it but he was distracted when Gilbert led them to a large table at the end of the hall, indicating the chairs for them to sit upon.

Tor and Nat made their way over to the dais where Gilbert was already taking a seat. It was clear that he seemed to think this was a social call, unprepared for what was to come. Already, Tor and Nat were looking for the exits in case they had to flee. Tor had originally told Nat to wait outside of the manse in case they took Tor hostage in their grief, but with Lady Isalyn as their escort to Featherstone, Nat couldn’t have very well refused to go inside because it would have looked strange.

The lady might have suspected that something was wrong.

Therefore, Nat took a seat near Tor in one of the heavy, oak chairs that lined the table. They were of the finest quality, as was the table, and Tor was coming to see just how much wealth the House of de Featherstone had. Not only was the furniture some of the finest he’d ever seen, but instead of rushes on the floor, there were expensive hides. The walls contained exquisite tapestries, clearly of the finest quality, and the long lancet windows were covered with expensive oilcloth.

There were other things, too, that lent credence to the theory of de Featherstone wealth. The wall over the hearth contained shields that Tor did not recognize. He thought they might have been Germanic or Spanish because they were unrecognizable to him and he recognized almost every standard in England. If he had seen it, he would have remembered it. He had a memory that never failed, so the heraldry on the wall was curious. In fact, he pointed to them simply to be polite.

“Interesting standards, my lord,” he said. “I do not recognize them.”

Gilbert sent servants running for food and drink. “Nor would you unless you had fought battles outside