‘We shall talk later, Lord Razi,’ sang Le Garou as he drew away. ‘When I have had my rest.’
And to Wynter’s surprise and relief, the Loups-Garous allowed themselves be herded away, veering towards the tents on the far side of the road, their pack mule and their slaves trotting placidly behind, the sound of bells following them. She watched them ride off; then she ran to catch up with Razi, who had simply kept on walking.
The Merron women were shadowing Razi through the tents, staying abreast of his progress but keeping their distance. Up ahead, Wynter saw Jared standing at the corner of the supply tent, glowering at the retreating Loups-Garous. He had strapped a sword around his waist and his cowl was thrown back, revealing his tonsured head. Mary lurked behind him, her eyes hopping keenly between Razi and the Wolves. Wynter was fairly certain Jared did not know the lady had emerged from the safety of her quarters.
Razi must have seen the priest, because he turned abruptly away from him and cut between the nearest tents. Wynter dodged to keep up with his long-legged stride. The Merron women ducked from sight. Razi just kept walking, apparently with no destination in mind.
‘Razi,’ said Wynter, jogging breathlessly at his side.
He shook his head.
‘The Merron are this way,’ she said, pointing. ‘We must tell Úlfnaor. He must be warned . . . he must . . . he must know what to say . . . should Alberon call him. Razi!’ she cried. ‘Please! I am running out of breath!’
Razi came to a sudden halt and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Taken by surprise, Wynter slid to a stop, then slowly came back to his side.
‘Razi?’ she said.
‘Am I to never have one single honest feeling?’ he whispered. ‘Am I never . . . will it always be one betrayal weighed against another?’
Wynter put her hand on his arm. ‘Come back to the Merron,’ she said softly. ‘Come sit and think and—’
‘I cannot,’ he said, pressing his hands harder against his eyes. ‘I cannot face him. I simply . . . I cannot.’
‘My Lord.’ Mary’s quiet voice made Wynter startle.
The lady came from between the tents, Jared trailing anxiously behind her. It was obvious that the priest wished her back in seclusion, and equally obvious that he was not having much luck persuading her.
At Mary’s voice, Razi shook his head and groaned without looking up, but Mary crossed to him without hesitation. Wynter stood back. Mary took her place, reached up and gently took Razi’s hands from his eyes.
‘My Lord,’ she said again, her face gentle with concern.
‘Four years, Mary,’ he whispered, taking both her hands and holding them between his own. ‘Four years I have held my tongue. And today, of all days, I allow myself to speak in anger. Mary, I have ruined everything.’
He spoke to her as if she had every knowledge of what he was saying; as if she were someone he had confided in many, many times over the course of his complicated life. And the Lady Mary looked up into his desolate face with all the sympathy and understanding one would give a cherished friend.
She nodded. ‘Our lives are such, that words can lay the deadliest traps, n’est-ce pas? But you are the cleverest of men, my Lord. You will find a way.’
Razi pressed Mary’s hands to his chest and Wynter saw a flame of gratitude rise up behind his desperation. ‘Thank you, Mary,’ he said.
Wynter could not fathom it, this understanding between two people who had only just met. Where had it come from? But she was extremely moved by it, and she found herself wanting, more than anything, that right here and now, Mary would put her arms around Razi and squeeze him gently and tell him, It will be all right.
‘Are the Loups-Garous a danger to us?’ asked Jared.
‘They are Wolves, Jared,’ sighed Mary. ‘They are hardly likely to invite us to tea.’ She glanced wryly at Razi. ‘Unless, of course, we are to be their entrée.’
To Wynter’s astonishment, Razi smiled. It was a broken smile, to be sure, but a smile nonetheless. Wynter might well have fallen in love with Mary then, so thankful did she feel towards this gentle, soft-spoken, beautifully self-possessed little woman.
‘Come now!’ Mary released Razi’s hands and smoothed the front of his shirt in a businesslike manner. ‘Come to my tent. I shall send Jared to beg some tea, and you will