The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood Page 0,76
middle of packing me breakfast, and Bill had come in from the dining room. They were frowning, and Gentry had his sword hand clenched.
“Gentry tells us you’re going to visit your uncle in Missouri. Do you have more than one uncle?” Bill said. It felt like a trick question.
“Um, no,” I said.
“Then this is the uncle they mentioned on the news?”
“They mentioned my uncle on the news?” My heart did this weird floppy thing, because all I could think was that something had happened to make this all more complicated. I couldn’t even imagine what that would be, unless they’d arrested Uncle Alva.
“Well, when they were talking about your sister, about the situation at El Dorado with the escape, they mentioned that your father and your uncle . . .” Bill lowered his eyes, like he was embarrassed.
“Oh, that they were in El Dorado? Or that they robbed a couple of banks?” Even though it had been years since anyone had brought it up, that old prickly defensiveness came back fresh. I refused to be embarrassed, but it always got my hackles up.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Charlene said. “Going to visit him?”
“You don’t think he’s connected to what happened with your sister?” Bill said.
I picked up my backpack before I answered, because I was stumped for what to say. There wasn’t anything neutral enough to describe what I was hoping to get out of my uncle, and like hell I was going to tell Gentry’s parents anything. If Uncle Alva knew something—if—it was worth finding out. Because I didn’t trust the police or the marshals to get LaReigne back safely. I could imagine the headline: HOSTAGE KILLED IN POLICE RAID GONE WRONG. Shit like that happened. Branch Davidian shit.
“Well, he’s family,” I said. “So, yeah, I’m going to visit him.”
“At what hour wilt thou depart?” Gentry said.
“I don’t have a schedule. I’m gonna try to talk to my mother again before I go.”
“I shall be ready ere the hour turns.” Gentry put his phone in his pocket and came around the kitchen island. By my math, the hour was going to turn to nine in fifteen minutes.
“You don’t need to go,” I said.
“Thou mayest need me yet.”
“It doesn’t sound like she invited you, honey.” Charlene laughed.
“I am her champion.”
I thought he was speaking to his mother, but he frowned and lifted his head. Not to look at her, but listening. That was the Witch above his head.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, son.” Bill looked more comfortable being embarrassed than he did disapproving.
“Nay, I cannot leave my lady go alone.”
“I—” I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but Charlene cut me off.
“Gentry, I’m not going to forbid you to go,” she said.
“I am glad, my mother, for it would distress me to defy thee.”
“Son,” Bill said, “I appreciate that you want to help Zee, but you may have done as much as you can.”
“And what about work? You’ve got no business gallivanting around and missing work.” Charlene could say she wasn’t going to forbid him to go, but to me that sounded like he was being forbidden.
“I shall call to my lord’s quartermaster to tell him I will not come for some while.”
“Gentry, son, this is like—do you remember how we discussed Battle of the Nations? And why we didn’t let you go?” Bill said. He leaned down until his elbows were resting on the countertop, so he could give this very stern, fatherly look to Gentry, who was looking at my knees.
“Yea. Because ye believen I am not ready to be tested in battle.”
Bill laughed. “Battle is the one thing I do think you’re ready for. The rest of it—being out in the world, dealing with people out there who won’t accept you—that’s what we’re worried about.”
“Let’s sit down and discuss this,” Charlene said.
Rhys had joked about it, but I don’t think the Franks liked the idea of their little boy growing up.
CHAPTER 31
Gentry
If I say yea and ye sayen nay, ’tis no discussion,” I said. ’Twas as the Witch said: I needed heat in my blood if I would stand as champion to my lady. Tho we discorded, I would not show uncourtesy to my mother and father, so I bowed to them ere I went to my room. I called the quartermaster and, tho ’twas with little warning, he offered no harsh words, for I was always dutiful in my service to him.