It sounded like the screech of a mouse, but it was much more. Laura did not know how she knew—whether the sudden heaviness of her heart was responsible or an angel whispered in her ear, but she knew. And she knew who.

“Clarice!” She turned from the corridor to which she had ascended, yanked up her skirts, and took the next flight of stairs two at a time. Reaching the landing, she stumbled and went down on a knee, landing so hard her teeth snapped and she tasted the blood of a bitten tongue. She lunged back to her feet, and though there were no other sounds to guide her, she knew where to find her daughter.

Wishing she had thought to call to Lothaire who, were he not deeply asleep, would have been fast on her heels, she beseeched, “Lord, please!” and flung open the first door on the corridor. The chamber was empty, as was the second. But not the third. That one’s door banged so hard against the wall it rebounded and nearly struck her in the face as she charged inside.

She did not understand what she was seeing, only that it was frightening. Though the shadows were thick to the right of the bed upon which lay Lothaire’s mother, Laura saw it was Clarice there and Sebille at her back, the forearm the latter pressed to the girl’s throat holding her captive, the hand over the girl’s mouth silencing further screams.

“Come no nearer!” Lothaire’s sister cried. “I do not wish to hurt her.”

Reaching the foot of the bed, Laura halted and met Clarice’s wide-eyed gaze. “I am here,” she said, then looked to the woman over her daughter’s shoulder. “Of course you do not wish to hurt her.” She splayed her hands. “This makes no sense, though I am sure you can explain, but for now all I ask is that you release my daughter.”

Laura heard Sebille swallow. “I shall. I just need to think. To fix this.”

“We will.” Laura took a step forward. “Let Clarice come to me, and we will sit and mend whatever is broken.”

“Everything is broken. Because of her.” She jerked her chin at her mother.

“She is leaving, Sebille. And you are staying. With us.”

Lothaire’s sister closed her eyes, and Laura returned her gaze to her daughter’s. Aching over the fear there, she hoped Clarice was somewhat reassured by her mother’s presence.

“I can stay at High Castle only if I make this right,” Sebille said. “And I cannot think how to do it.”

Laura advanced another step.

“Stop!” Sebille dragged Clarice closer.

“She is only nine, Sebille,” Laura beseeched. “She is a child, and you are frightening her as I know you do not mean to.”

“I was only nine, and so much more I bore!”

Laura’s mind scrambled to understand, but all she knew was nine was the age at which the woman lost her father. “Pray, Lady Sebille, release my daughter.”

“She listened in on Lady Raisa and me, heard things she ought not.”

“For which she is very sorry. If you will allow her to speak, she will apologize and we can make this right.”

Sebille shook her head, and Laura saw the fingers of the arm against Clarice’s neck begin to move as they often did over her prayer beads. She glanced at where they hung from the woman’s girdle.

“I know you are faithful with your prayers,” Laura said. “Were you to give yourself to them now, you would find comfort enough to do as I ask—nay, beg.”

Sebille’s fingers stilled. “She will scream again. And I vow I did naught to make her do so.”

“I know, Sebille, just as I know she will not scream if you let her come to me.”

“I-I will have naught to hold to.”

Was that the answer? Laura wondered, then nodded at the chair to the right of the two. “You will have me. I will sit there, you will loose Clarice, and I shall stay as long as you wish. My word I give.”

Sebille frowned, slowly nodded. “Sit.”

Laura gave her daughter an encouraging smile and crossed to the chair. Though she longed to perch on its edge, she sat back. And prayed Clarice would soon be freed.

Sebille walked the girl to the chair. “Do not scream,” she said and removed her hand from the girl’s mouth and set it on Laura’s shoulder. “You are certain we can fix this, Lady Laura?”

Laura looked up. “I am.”

The lady’s arm moved from Clarice’s neck to her waist and fell away.

And Lady Raisa loosed what sounded like a breath of relief.

But the girl did not run. “Mother?”

Knowing the fear in Clarice’s voice was now more for one other than herself, Laura said, “All will be well. Leave us.” And bring Lothaire, she dared not say, nor needed to, certain Clarice would go directly to him.

“Truly, I should leave you?”

Cautiously, Laura reached up, laid a hand atop Sebille’s, and felt the woman stiffen. “My sister-in-law and I shall talk a while. I will see you soon.”

“But she has a meat dagger.”

“As do I.” Laura glanced at her waist. “But since we are not at meal, they are not needed, are they?”

Still the girl did not move.

“Go, Clarice,” Laura said as evenly as she could.

“I will not hurt her,” Sebille said. “Do as your mother says.”

Clarice gave a gasp. “I love you, Mother.”

Tears sprang to Laura’s eyes. “As I love you, Daughter.”

The girl stepped away, but when she reached the door, Sebille called, “Summon my brother.”

That jolted Laura. And comforted. Surely it meant the lady intended her no harm—that Laura would not have to defend herself in a manner similar to that with which she had thwarted the one who had failed to ravish her.

“As he and his mother are not likely to meet again in heaven,” Sebille continued, “he must needs speak his farewell now.”

Clarice opened the door.

“And tell my brother to send for Father Atticus,” Sebille added. “Lady Raisa and I are in need of ministering.”

Clarice met her mother’s gaze, and it made Laura ache that she might fear it was the last time they looked upon each other. Then she was gone, leaving the door open.

“It must be told,” Sebille said and loosed Laura’s shoulder and moved around to stand in front of her. “He has to know that for as cruel as his mother is, she is not as sinful as believed.”

His mother, not our mother, Laura mused.

“I will not have him think he had anything to do with her passing. ’Tis my burden.”

Laura inclined her head. “Of course.”

“Tell me and her”—Sebille jerked her head toward Lothaire’s mother—“what you feel for my brother.”

This was something Laura did understand. “I love him. Ever I shall. My only wish is that he would have known it ten years longer.”

Sebille searched her face, and Laura knew she looked for a lie that would not be found. Then something of a smile lifting her lips, the lady said, “You hear that, Lady Raisa? She tells your son has what you and I have not. If she speaks true, I am happy for him. But you are not, are you?”

Laura looked to the old woman. Though her face was lax, her eyes were bright, and she moaned as if in response.

Of a sudden, Sebille was upon her sister-in-law, knees to the floor, chest on Laura’s thighs, head tucked against her abdomen, hands on the chair’s seat, one gripping her prayer beads.

“Make him forgive me,” she cried. “Do I lose his love, I shall die.”

Laura stared at the woman, and only when she glimpsed her own hands out to the sides, fingers splayed as if to fend off an attack, did she know where they belonged.

“Sebille,” she said and placed one hand on the lady’s back, the other on her head, then folded forward and embraced her. “Once given, methinks one cannot lose Lothaire’s love. Though he may be greatly angered and hurt, he does not toss it out. He buries it deep, but he knows exactly where to find it.”

“Promise me,” the lady sobbed.

That was not for Laura to do, but it was what this broken woman needed. “I promise you.”

* * *

Thankfully, Lothaire was clothed when his daughter threw open the door, and that was only due to Angus rousing his lord to inform him that what he had overheard between Cook and the three other prisoners corroborated the tale told.

Holding up a hand to silence the knight, Lothaire looked to the girl and found her nearly upon him. “Clarice! ’Tis inappropriate—” In the next instant, he strode forward and took hold of her arms. “What is it?” he demanded as she fell against him. “Your mother?”

She lifted her wide-eyed face. “Lady Sebille will not allow Mother…would not allow me…” She tapped her throat with a shaking hand. “I feared she meant to hurt me, and now she has my mother.”

It made no sense, but there was only one thing he needed to know in that moment. “Where is your mother?”

Clarice looked to the ceiling. “Lady Raisa’s chamber. Your sister says you must come and tell your mother goodbye. And s-summon Father Atticus.” A sob burst from her. “I know I should not have gone in. I promised.”

“Remain here.” Lothaire released her, and as he started for the door gestured for Angus to follow.

“It was her, Father,” Clarice called. “Lady Sebille hired those men, not your mother.”

He was certain she misunderstood, but when he entered the chamber with his knight on his heels, the sight was so unexpected he knew he was the one who did not understand.

A glance at his mother confirming she was alert, her eyes wide with distress, he halted mid-stride when his wife raised a staying hand where she sat in a chair, a sobbing Sebille draped over her lap.

Patience, he told himself as Angus halted alongside. All is well. Likely Mother said something cruel.

“My lady”—Laura spoke near Sebille’s ear—“your brother is come. And Sir Angus with him.”

Sebille reared back onto her heels and looked across her shoulder. “Nay!” she cried, then snapped her chin around and sank into her shoulders. “Do not look at me, Angus. Pray, leave!”

He started forward. “What is this, Sebille?”

Lothaire caught his arm. “Let us honor her request. Go to Father Atticus and tell him he is needed.”

Lothaire knew his man wanted to argue, that though he had said it was too late for Sebille and him, he still cared enough to wish to comfort her, but Angus grudgingly acceded.

“He is gone, Sebille,” Lothaire said when the door closed. “Now tell me what has happened.”

Leaning into the hand Laura returned to the side of her head, she said, “Sit with your mother. Hold her hand, for I cannot.”

He looked questioningly at Laura, but she said naught, and he supposed it was best since it was obvious Sebille was in a fragile state.

When Lothaire lowered to the mattress beside his mother, he saw it was where he ought to be. There was little light in her eyes, and her skin was so white he wondered if she bled out onto the mattress, and then there was that soft rattling from her chest.

He took her cold, curled hands in his and kissed her cheek. “I am sorry, Mother.”

She gave a slight jerk of her head as if to refuse his apology.

“And I am sorry you were denied the happiness I lost and have found again. But it will surely be all the sweeter for you in heaven. For that I am grateful.”

He thought she tried to squeeze his hand, and out of one side of her mouth she said, “My…bo.”

“Aye, your boy.” He looked to his sister whose head remained lowered. “And your girl. We are both of us here.”

“Se…”

“I will bring Sebille to you.”

She whimpered and her head ticked side to side. “No Seb.”

“She does not want me, Lothaire,” his sister said. “I do not belong.”

He frowned, and when she gave him her red, moist gaze, he said, “Of course you belong. You are her—”

“I am not.”

He sighed. “Just because she—”

“She spoke in truth. Though once I was hers and loved for the miracle I am not, never have I been her daughter in blood. That which flows through me is only half of what flows through you.”

More senselessness, but now was not the time to demand an explanation. His mother’s rattling was louder.

He set a hand on Lady Raisa’s forehead. “Be at peace, Mother.”

“Pe…Seb…”

“You want Sebille?”

“Nay. You…” She gave a weak cough. “Fo…give…huh.”

“Forgive her?” That could not be what she meant, but it was the only sense he could make of her words, and when she jerked her chin as if to confirm it, he said, “Sebille?”

She eased a hand from his, and its fingers slowly crawled up her chest to her collarbone. “I…made…huh.”

“Aye.” This from Sebille. “You made me into this. But I allowed it.”

“Fo…give…huh.”

“Of course, Mother.”

“An…me.”

He touched his lips to her brow. “All is forgiven. Now rest. Father Atticus will be here soon.” Hardly were the words spoken than one last rattle left her and all that was yet hard in Raisa Soames went soft.

He drew her hand from her chest, settled it atop the one on her abdomen, and looked around. “She is gone from us, Sebille.”

His sister sighed long and set her cheek on Laura’s knees.

He would have liked to allow her to remain thus, but there was a frightened girl who needed to know her mother was safe.

He rose from the bed, kissed the top of his wife’s head, then gently lifted his sister.

She did not sleep, as evidenced by eyes so tightly closed it was as if she feared she would be made to explain what she herself did not understand.

“Clarice?” Laura said low as she pushed up out of the chair.

“In the solar. As soon as I have settled my sister, I will join you.”

She walked ahead of him and down the stairs, paused before the solar door to touch his arm as he carried Sebille past. As she closed the door of their chamber, he heard Clarice’s cry of relief and knew the girl was in her mother’s arms.