HOMECOMING
Duncan walked lightly and quickly up the hall. It had taken him all day and all night to ride back, but, as soon as Lady Benoite assured his release from the castle, he had taken his horse and ridden, through all the night and all the day following, to reach home.
“Alina?”
He stood in the hallway that led to her bedchamber. Eschewing his lordship's hospitality, the offer of a wash, dinner in the hall, Duncan had come straight here. He had to see her first. Had to tell her the news.
“Alina?”
He paused. Walked quickly and quietly to her chamber door. Knocked softly on it.
“Alina?”
A woman opened it. He recognized Alina's maidservant, Blaire. Only she looked nothing like herself, as if she had aged a winter since last he saw her. Her eyes were swollen and her face was lined and pale.
“Blaire?” he asked, feeling frightened. “Is Alina...”
“Oh, sir!” Blaire said, raising a kerchief even as fresh tears started.
Duncan gaped at her. Is Alina...he did not even want to think it. Was she ill? Fevered? Dead?
At that moment, he heard a footfall and someone call his name. Chrissie.
“Duncan?”
He looked up. The girl, too, was pale, face drawn. She looked at him and her blue eyes swam.
“Chrissie,” he whispered through a throat too tight to speak. “Tell me. Is Alina...?”
“Duncan!” Chrissie went to him, tears falling in floods. He held her close, knowing that, however improper it was for him to touch a lady so, she needed care. He stroked her hair, clasped her shoulder, rocked with her a moment, then bent down to look into her eyes.
“Where is she?”
“Oh, Duncan! She's lost! We don't know where she is!” She sobbed and sobbed. “We sent to Amabel and Broderick to ask for help. They're searching the woods, but so far...so far...” she trailed off. “No one has found her. Oh!”
She leaned against him, then, sobbing and, Duncan, stroking her hair and murmuring nonsense words of comfort, felt his heart turn bleak and cold, like ice.
Alina is lost.
“Where, Chrissie?” he asked gently, as the girl hiccupped and stopped sobbing gradually. “Where? Please...tell me anything you know.”
She cuffed her cheek with her fingers and Duncan dabbed her face with his own kerchief, then looked up as she took a shuddering breath.
“Her horse was found, Duncan. Argenta. She was in the forest. Alone. Someone had unsaddled her, and...”
Chrissie got no further but burst into sobs again. Duncan felt his own throat close up. He looked up at the maidservant, Blaire, who was crying again too, thought she nodded.
“What?” he whispered hoarsely.
Blaire cleared her throat. “What the lady says is true. My lady's horse was found in the woods, not far from here. Perhaps a day's ride off, or so Joe told me,” she explained.
“Where?” Duncan asked.
“North of here, my lord,” Blaire said quietly. She leaned against the doorpost, a kerchief at her own face, dabbing away slow rivulets of tears.
“When was this?” Duncan asked. He had stood up, gently unclasping arms from around Chrissie, who looked up at him, startled and confused.
“Why,” Blaire sighed, looking at Chrissie for confirmation. “Two days afore, master.”
“Two days! But...” Duncan looked around wildly, thinking. He had been gone three days – one in riding to the castle, one there, and then the whole of the following night and today. She must have left the same day he did, or the day after.
“She was missing the night you left, Duncan,” Chrissie said in a small voice. “We thought at first she had followed you, but, when her horse was found in a different part of the forest, we thought not.”
Duncan almost swore. “She followed me?” He felt his hand clench angrily. Of course she did! Why had they not sent to Inverglass to ask of her? At least, he thought, feeling a flare of hope, if she was there, no harm would come to her! “Why did no one send to Duncraigh, to ask him?”
He looked at Chrissie, who slowly shook her head. “We did, Duncan,” she said slowly. “We sent word to him the next day. Uncle agreed, even though it was against his pride to do it. He was very distressed. He sent Fergal to Inverglass with a message. Yesterday night, the word came back. She was never there.”
Chrissie's words shook as she cried again. Blaire stepped forward wordlessly and held the girl in an embrace. Duncan, feeling his heart sink, looked away.
“Thank you, Chrissie, for telling me,” he said. “Thank you, Blaire.” His voice was hollow, exhausted beyond anything he had ever known. He was tired, he suddenly realized. He had ridden for a day and a night, almost without pause. He had ridden here with his heart alive with joy, expecting to see Alina and share the wonder of his discovery. Now she was missing, perhaps dead.
He felt too tired to move. His legs like lead weights on him, he turned and walked stiffly down the corridor, back the way he had come. He headed for the kitchens.
Sluicing his head under the pump in the courtyard, though the water was raw ice and made him shudder, he crossed into the stifling space of the kitchen. There, collapsing on a stool, he asked the cook for bread and ale and she, terrified at the prospect of a lord in her kitchen, obeyed without question.
Jaw working as he chewed the hard, dry bread, mind racing, Duncan made his plans. He would make his report to Uncle Brien as soon as he had eaten this, then he would rest for perhaps an hour, to clear his head. After that, he would take all the verderers, two huntsmen, and the dogs. He would start searching the woodlands. For Alina.
For the heart that had died inside him.