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My unicorn pranced with the thought, but the rest of me mourned. Destiny must have a twisted sense of humor, because Tuck was a priest and we were likely to die soon anyway.
Tuck kept his mournful eyes on mine for another few heartbeats. Then he shook his head and whispered into my mind.
No, we won’t. We’ll find a way through this — somehow.
Another messenger entered and bowed to Lord Winthrop — one of many who had come and gone all day. Winthrop took the note, then dismissed the man with a nod. He read the message quickly, then showed it to me.
“Lord Ainsworth is with us. He can assemble his men in three days.”
Three days? I wanted to wail. Three days could be too late.
“No word yet from Woodborough, but Lindby is with us too,” he added.
I glanced at Tuck, who kept his lips pursed, his gaze distant.
Winthrop sipped his tea. “We must be patient.”
I gritted my teeth. Lord Winthrop was a good man, but like so many old-timers, he moved at a glacial pace. Didn’t he know the clock was ticking?
But his gaze was distant, his brow furrowed. He was probably well aware of that, but accepted there was nothing more we could do to hurry things up.
The next two hours ticked by in the same vein. Wax dripped from candles like so many slow waterfalls in a sleepy, alternative world. My shoulders ached, and my eyes went drier and drier. It had been a long day.
At some point, Winthrop sighed and stood. “You do your father proud, my dear.”
The words warmed me, because I’d spent the first two hours of the day getting him to take me seriously. By afternoon, he’d been calling me by my father’s name, then hastily correcting himself. William — er, Marian, I mean…
“I agree,” Lady Winthrop said. “But even your father would agree there is little more we can accomplish today.” With that, she blew out one candle, then another.
I cupped the next few with my hands before she extinguished those too, along with my drooping hopes. But she was right, and I knew it.
I sighed and blew them out myself.
“Good night. And thank you,” I added quickly, reminding myself the Winthrops had as much to lose as anyone — starting with their heads. “For everything.”
Lord Winthrop’s smile was genuine. “No, thank you.” Then he looked over at Tuck and raised his voice. “And thank you, Friar. Jacobs can show you to the chapel for evening prayers.”
Tuck stuck up his hands as fast as a knight blocking an incoming blow. “Not necessary.” Then he caught himself. “I mean, I’ll find it myself.”
“As you wish,” Winthrop murmured, leaving the room with a half-hidden grin. “Good night.”
God, I hoped he wasn’t onto us. Him or sweet Lady Winthrop, who showed me to a room for the night.
“You should be comfortable enough here. And you, Friar…”
I steeled myself for her to lead him to a different part of the castle.
“As you’re a man of God, I’m sure you’d rather lodge with the priest in the local church, so as not to miss prayers,” Lady Winthrop started.
Tuck’s stricken face implied he’d get a better night’s sleep in a cow shed, but she went on before he could force a polite reply.
“But I must insist you take that room.” Lady Winthrop motioned to a door across the hall. “It will make me feel better to have a man as powerful — er, pious — as you near our dear Marian, should any need arise.”
I stared. Tuck stared. Lady Winthrop winked and pressed a candlestick into my hand. “Anything else you might need before going to bed?”
“No,” we practically shouted in unison.
Lady Winthrop chuckled and turned away. “Good. Then I bid you both a restful night.”
