WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,38

at his eyes, quickly. “Do you know who?”

Powell thought a moment. “The Earl of Northumbria was one,” he said. “I recognized several from a meeting with the king last year, when he gathered his northern warlords at Alnwick. They were all from Castle Questing or Berwick. I saw two Hage knights and the son of the Earl of Warenton was there; one of the older ones. I think he has his own command now near Carlisle, from what I heard. I think they call him Tor.”

Joah recognized the names. He’d served de Royans long enough to recognize most of the de Wolfe men and their allies – Hage, de Norville, and de Longley. They were all family, all thick as thieves.

“Isabella de Wolfe is the daughter of Blayth de Wolfe,” he said. “He’s the one who made a name for himself in Wales years ago, the de Wolfe brother believed to be dead. He is a powerful warlord. He was not part of this assassination contingent?”

Powell shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But I believe his eldest was, Ronan. The lad looks just like him.”

“Ronan,” Joah repeated slowly. “How young?”

“Mayhap seventeen or eighteen years.”

Joah grunted. “Young and impressionable,” he muttered. “They are teaching him to be a good little killer, just like the rest of the de Wolfes.”

Powell wasn’t sure what to say to that, but something told him that Joah was sinking into the well of blame. It would consume him, surround him, and cover him. He would hold Steffan completely blameless for his own death.

“Northumbria is in the solar with de Royans,” Powell said. “If I were you, I would distance myself from Steffan. De Royans is not pleased and he knows that you are close to Steffan. He will ask you what you know.”

Joah was calming somewhat, but it was only the first wave of peace before the grief hit him again, later, and he would be swamped with it. But at the moment, he was looking to place the blame for his beloved’s death. In his mind, Steffan wasn’t to blame. He surely had a perfectly good reason for fleeing Isabella de Wolfe before the marriage could take place. What that reason was didn’t matter.

In fact, there was part of him that was glad Steffan fought marriage to a woman. Joah didn’t particularly want to share his lover, but the lure of de Wolfe wealth and prestige had been great. It would have taken him away from de Royans, where his talents and life were stagnating.

Perhaps Steffan had come up with a better idea or had a better offer.

Better than a de Wolfe.

And they had killed him for it.

“Do not worry about me,” he said after a moment. “Go, now. Tend to your horse and your men. I can handle de Royans and Northumbria if they come calling. You needn’t worry.”

Powell studied the man for a moment, wondering where the suddenly burst of steeliness had come from, but he didn’t have the inclination to ask. The further he remained away from de Brayton, the better.

The man was trouble.

Without another word, Powell headed out into the bailey, leaving Joah still in the servant’s passage because he could hear anything coming in and out of the solar.

He wanted to hear what Northumbria and de Royans had to say.

This may have been the end of Steffan, but it was not the end of the situation. Steffan was, in all things, above reproach in Joah’s mind. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that the de Wolfe pack must have unfairly cornered him. He was positive that Steffan had a good reason for running.

He only wished he knew what it was.

But that was of little consequence now. His lover was gone, his plans were laid to waste, and the common denominator to both of those things was the House of de Wolfe. Certainly, Joah could not attack any number of their fortresses to exact his revenge. He had no army, no men sworn to him. He was only one piece of a much larger war engine, a war engine that the House of de Royans controlled. Personally, he had nothing.

It was that sense of emptiness that had started this entire scheme.

He’d lost whatever connection he was going to have to the House of de Wolfe. He had lost a man he had loved very much for the past two years. Now, he had nothing more to lose, but that did not stop his sense of vengeance. As