Read Online Children of Time (The After Cilmeri Series Book Four) by Sarah Woodbury - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sarah Woodbury
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the bailey, navigating the puddles that had formed at low spots in the packed earth the best we could, and underneath the portcullis. Bevyn waved at the man who stood sentry at the entrance to the castle. His brow furrowed in response, until I lifted a hand to him, too. He couldn’t know that I was drunk and in no condition to be going anywhere.
I glanced at Bevyn’s profile. Could this be … betrayal? Even as the thought passed through my mind, I shook my head, sending my senses flying all over the place. It couldn’t. Not from Bevyn. Sure of that, if of nothing else, I allowed Bevyn to lead me to the barbican and the lower gate. Before we’d gone ten yards, however, hurrying feet sounded behind us.
“My lord!”
Bevyn stopped before the great wooden door that was the first line of defense for the castle. I tottered around to face the man who’d come. Whether Bevyn wanted company or not, Evan and a contingent of my men weren’t going to let me leave the castle unattended.
“Tell them to stay back,” Bevyn said. “There’s something you should see—but only you.”
A dozen of my men crowded into the barbican. I crooked a finger at Evan. “What is it, my lord?” Evan stepped forward.
“Bevyn and I must see to something,” I said. “You may follow, but give us some space to be alone.”
“Yes, my lord.” Evan bowed.
Even as he turned back to my men, however, he glanced at Bevyn, who nodded. The need for Bevyn’s approval brought the same acid taste to my mouth that I’d been feeling earlier. During my conversation with Mom and Dad, and all through dinner, I’d been bemoaning the constraints on my life. I was a Prince of Wales, and while that sounded like an awesome thing to be, it wasn’t nearly as cool in practice when one had to live it every day.
A wash of rain and darkness greeted us as we entered the clearing to the south of the castle. We walked out of reach of the torchlight at the gate, heading west along the road towards the town of Chepstow, a hundred yards away.
Rain rat-tat-tatted on the helmets of the men behind us. That same steady rain soaked my hair and streamed down my face. It was like standing in a cold shower. I pulled up my hood, coming more to my senses with every yard I walked, and no longer in need of Bevyn’s assistance.
I didn’t ask where we were going either—I didn’t actually care. With our departure from the hall and the coolness of the evening, my rush of fury had dissipated to a more manageable discontent, and even that was easing. We passed through the town gate, admitted by the guard at another simple lift of my hand, and turned down a side street. Bevyn stopped at a small house halfway along the block. He made a halt motion with his hand at Evan, who held his men a few paces away. Then Bevyn knocked at the door.
A tall man opened it. “Yes?” And then his face cleared as he recognized Bevyn. “My lord! I’d heard you were in Chepstow, but didn’t expect you to honor us with your presence tonight.”
“I’m here with the Prince.” Bevyn gestured to me. I’d been standing behind him in the shadows and now showed my face.
Even with the introduction, however, I didn’t step into the house because I’d recognized the townsman as Aeddan, the man who had sheltered me when I was sixteen. I’d been abducted by several of my own men and subsequently escaped. Behind Aeddan, a lanky young man who could only be Huw, his son, straightened from a squat in front of the fire. He was the same age now that I’d been then.
The slow fire in me that the rain had dampened threatened to rise again. I knew in an instant why Bevyn had brought me here: he wanted me to see—and to understand—and to remember—why I carried the burdens I did. And to accept them again. I could have been rude, turned away from the unwanted lesson, but at Huw’s expansive smile, I thanked Aeddan for his hospitality and crossed the threshold into his house.
“I am honored to
I glanced at Bevyn’s profile. Could this be … betrayal? Even as the thought passed through my mind, I shook my head, sending my senses flying all over the place. It couldn’t. Not from Bevyn. Sure of that, if of nothing else, I allowed Bevyn to lead me to the barbican and the lower gate. Before we’d gone ten yards, however, hurrying feet sounded behind us.
“My lord!”
Bevyn stopped before the great wooden door that was the first line of defense for the castle. I tottered around to face the man who’d come. Whether Bevyn wanted company or not, Evan and a contingent of my men weren’t going to let me leave the castle unattended.
“Tell them to stay back,” Bevyn said. “There’s something you should see—but only you.”
A dozen of my men crowded into the barbican. I crooked a finger at Evan. “What is it, my lord?” Evan stepped forward.
“Bevyn and I must see to something,” I said. “You may follow, but give us some space to be alone.”
“Yes, my lord.” Evan bowed.
Even as he turned back to my men, however, he glanced at Bevyn, who nodded. The need for Bevyn’s approval brought the same acid taste to my mouth that I’d been feeling earlier. During my conversation with Mom and Dad, and all through dinner, I’d been bemoaning the constraints on my life. I was a Prince of Wales, and while that sounded like an awesome thing to be, it wasn’t nearly as cool in practice when one had to live it every day.
A wash of rain and darkness greeted us as we entered the clearing to the south of the castle. We walked out of reach of the torchlight at the gate, heading west along the road towards the town of Chepstow, a hundred yards away.
Rain rat-tat-tatted on the helmets of the men behind us. That same steady rain soaked my hair and streamed down my face. It was like standing in a cold shower. I pulled up my hood, coming more to my senses with every yard I walked, and no longer in need of Bevyn’s assistance.
I didn’t ask where we were going either—I didn’t actually care. With our departure from the hall and the coolness of the evening, my rush of fury had dissipated to a more manageable discontent, and even that was easing. We passed through the town gate, admitted by the guard at another simple lift of my hand, and turned down a side street. Bevyn stopped at a small house halfway along the block. He made a halt motion with his hand at Evan, who held his men a few paces away. Then Bevyn knocked at the door.
A tall man opened it. “Yes?” And then his face cleared as he recognized Bevyn. “My lord! I’d heard you were in Chepstow, but didn’t expect you to honor us with your presence tonight.”
“I’m here with the Prince.” Bevyn gestured to me. I’d been standing behind him in the shadows and now showed my face.
Even with the introduction, however, I didn’t step into the house because I’d recognized the townsman as Aeddan, the man who had sheltered me when I was sixteen. I’d been abducted by several of my own men and subsequently escaped. Behind Aeddan, a lanky young man who could only be Huw, his son, straightened from a squat in front of the fire. He was the same age now that I’d been then.
The slow fire in me that the rain had dampened threatened to rise again. I knew in an instant why Bevyn had brought me here: he wanted me to see—and to understand—and to remember—why I carried the burdens I did. And to accept them again. I could have been rude, turned away from the unwanted lesson, but at Huw’s expansive smile, I thanked Aeddan for his hospitality and crossed the threshold into his house.
“I am honored to
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