BAD NEWS
Broderick and Duncan rode out together. The morning was cold, the first sign of winter. They breathed out plumes of frost and sat stiffly, jolted a little by the horse's wide steps.
“Duncan?”
“Aye?”
Broderick sighed. “Something feels wrong.”
Duncan raised a brow, his good-looking face showing his amusement. “We're riding through potentially-hostile territory, leaving the bulk of our main force behind. We're still not sure who we face, and could face ambush. We are heading home with a half-formed plan of defense, which relies on the fact that father has repelled any attacks in our absence. Yes, you might be able to say it feels wrong.”
Broderick let out a chuckle. “I know,” he sighed. “We're taking risks.”
Duncan grinned. “Just a bit.”
They rode on in silence. Then Broderick cleared his throat. “It's not that, though.”
“Oh?”
“That's not what feels wrong. Not what I thought.”
“What's worrying you, brother?”
They slowed so that they could hear each other talk over the hooves and the marching feet.
“It's Amabel,” he said hesitantly.
Duncan frowned. “How's that?”
“Well,” Broderick began. “I felt like she was hiding something from me. It's not like her. She was so... distant.”
Duncan sighed. “Now you mention it,” he began carefully, “Alina's odd, too.”
Broderick stared. “How d'you mean?”
“Well,” Duncan cleared his throat. “She was also different. She seemed worried. She was frowning a lot and seemed jumpy. She's not usually jumpy.”
Broderick nodded. “She's always so calm.”
“Exactly.”
The two brothers looked at each other.
“Do you think...”
“Are they actually pilgrims?”
“What? Sorry, Duncan.” He cleared his throat. “But what do you mean?”
“Well…” Duncan raised a brow. “I think Alina was hiding something. Amabel, too. Maybe that's what. Maybe they're not headed to the abbey after all. But somewhere else.”
Broderick furrowed his brow. “But where else would they go?”
“I don't know.”
The two men rode in silence for a while.
After a moment, Broderick had an idea.
“Is Blaine at the rear?”
Duncan turned around. The column of eighty fighting men stretched far back, sixteen rows of five men each. At the back, he could just discern Blaine, riding a bad-tempered chestnut cob. He waved to him.
“He's coming up now,” Duncan replied evenly. “Why?”
“I want to know if Chrissie told him anything. Surely, if the women were going somewhere, they might have told her, too?”
Duncan shrugged. “Worth a try.”
The two waited until they heard the hooves clop up beside them.
Broderick turned.
“Blaine?”
“Yes, sir?”
“How are you with secrets?”
“Depends, sir.” He grinned. “Strategy? I'm completely mum.”
“Other secrets?”
“I've got a mouth like a leaky pot, sir.”
Broderick roared. “Good. So. If Chrissie confided something in you, would you tell?”
Blaine went pale. “Not necessarily.”
“If it could mean life or death?”
“Depends,” he said. “If it's her life, then I'd save it. No question, sir.”
Broderick smiled grimly. “And for my wife? Or Alina?”
“Of course.” His brown eyes were worried. “What, sir?”
“Do you know if they were going... where they said?”
Blaine frowned. “Chrissie thought so,” he said hesitantly. “But she also said they took some good gowns along. To be presentable.”
The three men looked at each other. The abbey was a simple, austere place. To take any finery along would be to insult the holy sisters and brothers staying there.
There was simply no chance the ladies were heading to the abbey.
Broderick looked around, feeling the first traces of fear down his back.
“What, sir?” Blaine bit his lip. “What's the matter?”
Broderick and Duncan looked back.
“We need to find them,” Broderick said decidedly.
“Yes,” Duncan said.
“Amabel?” Broderick sighed. “Beloved, where are you?”
He had no idea. He only hoped that she was where he thought and not somewhere else entirely.