Then she turned on her heel and stalked off back to her stillery.
She slammed the door behind her, leaned against it, and burst into tears.
Alain stared at the doorway through which she had gone, thunderstruck, distraught, and dismayed. Then he remembered that a steward was apt to step through that doorway at any minute, and masked his hurt in a scowl. The scowl raised up a torrent of anger in its wake. He stalked through the archway, and the steward stepped up. "May I fetch you anything, Your Highness?"
"A modicum of sense in a woman's heart," Alain snarled. "Aside, fellow! I shall seek my horse—'tis a fairer creature than the Lady Cordelia!"
"Surely, Highness!" The steward moved aside with alacrity, then signalled to a footman, who stepped to the stairs and signalled down to the porter.
Alain didn't see; he was aware of nothing but a red haze, his feet following the steps down to the Great Hall automatically. The porter yanked the door open as the prince came to it, and he stormed out,' his face thunderous.
In the courtyard, his escort raised a cheer that cut off as though it had been sheared. Sir Devon stepped up, his face dark. "Have they offered you insult, Highness?"
" `They'?" Alain cried. "No, not 'they'—only she! An arrogant chit of a girl who holds her liege and lord in little esteem!"
"Assuredly she has not spurned you!"
"Spurned me? Aye, as a tyrant would spurn a dog! I shall be revenged upon her, upon their whole house!" The leader looked shocked for a second, then masked his sudden fear with narrowed eyes and a hard face. He turned back to his fellows. "They have offered our Prince grave insult, sir knights."
He was satisfied to see the same momentary dismay on every face—all of them knew of the magical powers of the Lord Warlock and his family. Moreover, all of them knew Cordelia's brother Geoffrey to be the best swordsman in the kingdom. But even as their leader had done, they all grew stone-faced, and reached to touch the hilts of their swords.
"Say the word, Highness, and your revenge shall be executed," the leader said.
"Oh, not so quickly and easily!" Alain roared. "I shall see humiliation and shame ere I see blood! 'Tis insult I've been given, and dire insult must answer! Away, good friends! For I must think long and hard on the manner of this vengeance! Away!"
Out they thundered through the gatehouse. The sentry on the wall looked up, ready to give the porter the signal that would begin their revenge for the insults given their young mistress. His heart sank at the thought, for he knew that if they raised their hands against the Heir Apparent, the Royal Army would have them sooner or later, and they would all be drawn and quartered. But loyalty was loyalty, and Cordelia was his young mistress, and the daughter of the Lord Warlock, to whom he had sworn his allegiance.
Besides, he was more than a little in love with the lady, as most of the younger men of the castle were.
The steward, however, was older, and a bit more practical. More to the point, he had seen enough of life to recognize rash words that would probably be atoned for in time, and to know that young people frequently say things they do not mean. He only shook his head—so the drawbridge stayed down, and Alain and his young knights rode. out unharmed, across the drawbridge, and down the road to the plain.
"What revenge is this he speaks of?" the sentry demanded. "For if I must choose between the Lord Warlock and the King, I know where my loyalties lie!"
"Your loyalty, and my lance," the steward agreed. "Still, he does not speak of action yet, and the time has not come to draw blades."
"But to speak of it to the lady?" the sentry asked, his face uncertain.
"Not to the lady," the steward rejoined. "If I know her at all, she is probably in tears over so disastrous an encounter. Nay, we will. speak of it, to Lord and Lady Gallowglass, or to either of their sons, should they come home sooner."
Geoffrey came home sooner.
CHAPTER 2
In the Great Hall, Geoffrey stood rigid, closing his eyes, visualizing Alain's face, trying to concentrate on it—but his emotions were in too great a turmoil to allow him to teleport. His own sister! That the empty-headed, preening fool of a Prince should have had the gall to insult Cordelia! He could scarcely throttle his rage enough to detect the Prince's thoughts, there was such a roaring in his head. "I shall have to seek him on horseback! Blast and be hanged! 'Tis too slow!"
But there was no help for it, so he strode off to the stables and saddled his roan as a groom leaped to the bridle. Minutes later, the young warlock was pounding out across the drawbridge, hard on the trail of the Prince who had insulted his sister.
"He spoke of what?" Geoffrey stared, incredulous. "Surely not even Prince Alain would be so great a fool as to seek revenge on our house!"
"I speak only of what His Highness said, sir," the steward replied.
"And proper and loyal you are to do so." Geoffrey spun away. "I must speak to my sister!"
He boomed through the stillery door. "Cordelia! What has Alain done to you!"
Cordelia looked up at him, tears streaking her face. "Oh, nothing! Only spoke a deal of nonsense, only been as lofty and pompous as ever he was! Do go away, Geoffrey! Leave me to cry in peace! You shame me with your gaze! Go away!"
"Shame you!" Geoffrey spun on his heel and stalked out of the stillery, his face dark, fists clenched.
"Geoffrey, no!" Cordelia cried, leaping to her feet—but she was talking to the stout oaken planks of the door. "I had not meant—oh, blast! Men are such fools!" And she collapsed onto her stool again, weeping afresh.
An hour later, Cordelia emerged from the stillery, face washed but haggard. As she came into the solar, the steward stepped up, all solicitation. "Are you well, milady?"
"As well as one might expect," Cordelia sighed, and sat down beneath the clerestory window. "I am minded to take some tea, Squire Bruntly."
"Aye, milady." The steward nodded to the footman, who departed for the kitchen.
"And, Squire Bruntly..."
The steward turned back to her. "Aye, milady?"
"Where is my brother?"
"I cannot say, milady." Squire Bruntly did his best to look apologetic. "I know only that he rode off posthaste, an hour ago."
"An hour ago!" Cordelia stiffened. "Is it all of an hour since he came to see me in the stillery?"
"It is, milady."
"Where has he gone?"
"I do not know." Squire Bruntly spread his hands, beginning to have a very bad feeling about all this.
"Then I fear I do!" Cordelia leaped to her feet and began pacing the floor. "Blast! Knows he no better than to meddle in my affairs?"
"I am sure that your brother is quite concerned for your honor, milady," Squire Bruntly said, vaguely shocked without knowing why.
"My honor, forsooth! When my honor needs such defending as a brother might do, I shall tell him! Oh, Squire Bruntly! In which direction did he ride?"
"Why, I cannot say, milady—but I shall send for the sentries."
"You need not. Which way did Prince Alain ride?"
"West, milady, back toward Runnymede."
"Then you need not ask which way Geoffrey rode," Cordelia said grimly. "Blast! If only I could teleport, as he can! Well, there's no help for it! I shall return when I may, Squire Bruntly!"
"We shall keep the kettle hot, milady." Squire Bruntly stared after her as she caught up her broomstick and hurried away toward the nearest tower. Now he knew why that feeling of dread had been building within him.
As they had ridden west, the day had darkened, and Alain had calmed a bit, from anger into moroseness. A strange, hollow feeling had been growing inside him; where butterflies had been struggling out of their cocoons, there was now only echoing darkness.