Chapter Six #2
But Sean was used to that. John could be bitterly confusing in that sense.
Without further thought. Sean retreated back to his adjoining room where Alys was huddled against the wall, holding her wrist. When she saw Sean approach, she began to cry loudly.
He knelt beside her, swiftly, putting his hand on her head in a comforting gesture.
“I am sorry, Alys,” he muttered. “Truly, I am sorry. It was an accident. But I had to get you out of there and I apologize if I was brutal. Do you understand that?”
She was sobbing pathetically. “He… he tried to…”
“I know,” he felt so badly for her that he kissed her on the forehead. “Come, let me see what I have done. Please know I wouldn’t have intentionally hurt you for the world. I did not mean to.”
She sniffled, wincing when he ran his fingers over her forearm. “It hurts.”
“I know. I can feel the broken bone through your skin. Let’s get you out of here and to a physic.”
Sean went to the wall and pushed on one of the massive decorative panels that lined the perimeter; it swung open, revealing a steep, narrow staircase that disappeared into the darkness below. He took a taper in one hand and Alys in the other.
“Come along,” he said. “Watch the steps; they’re steep.”
Tears fading, left arm held tight against her body, Alys allowed him to lead her down the dark stairs.
As the secret panel closed softly behind them, the doors on the opposite side of the chamber softly opened.
The king was standing in the archway with Gerard.
The men gazed unemotionally at the wall with the hidden panel, each man thinking his own thoughts of what he had just witnessed.
It was difficult to know their conclusions.
It was the king who finally spoke, a great deal of reluctance in his tone.
“Follow him,” he said to d’Athée. “See where he goes.”
“He goes to take her to the physic, sire,” Gerard said. “You heard the bone snap yourself.”
The king mulled over the situation, Sean’s words. His weak mind was torn with suspicion and jealousy. “Indeed I did,” he said. “But I have seen him do worse and show no compassion. Why this time? Why with her? Perhaps he wants her for himself.”
D’Athée could only shake his head. The king waved a finger in the general direction of the concealed panel. “Follow them. Report back to me.”
Gerard, against his better judgment, obeyed.
*
“She is hurt enough,” Sean had Sheridan by the waist. “Go – sit over there, away from her. There will be no battles today in my presence.”
Sheridan wasn’t listening. She was so furious and terrified that she was crying. She wanted to take her sister’s head off but Sean wouldn’t let her.
“Ooooo,” she shook both of her fists at a weeping Alys. “You are a fool, do you hear me? A fool! I should kill you and be done with it!”
Sean bodily picked her up and carried her to the opposite side of the room. There was a chair; he set her down in it, gently, and grasped her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Calm yourself,” he commanded softly. “Alys needs your comfort, not your anger.”
Sheridan’s eyes were filled with tears. Then, she closed her eyes tightly and refused to look at any of them.
“She’ll not get any from me,” she hissed. “Please, I need to lie down. I feel horribly ill.”
Sean swept her into his arms and put her right back onto the bed where he had found her a few minutes earlier.
She had looked as if she was dying, lying in a dark room with a cloth over her eyes.
But a brief story of Alys’ morning to explain her splinted wrist had Sheridan leaping out of bed like a madwoman.
It had, in hindsight, not been the brightest of ideas.
Her sick headache was worse than before.
“What can I do for you?” he leaned over her, his powerful arms braced on either side of her.
She put her arm over her eyes, blocking out the light. “Nothing,” she whispered. “Darkness and quiet are the only things I need. This will pass.”
He gently touched her arm, a comforting gesture, wishing he could do more. “Shall I send for the physic?”
“Nay,” she rasped. “He can do nothing.”
“Can I at least try? I cannot stomach seeing you like this.”
She grunted in response. If it wasn’t a direct denial, he took it as an affirmative. He turned to go, pausing at the door. “If I leave, can I be assured that you will not attack your sister in my absence?”
Sheridan’s arm flopped from her face in an irritated gesture. “Do you think I would wait until you go to rip her apart? I would be doing it right now if I felt any better.”
He grinned, quitting the apartment. The little maid came out of hiding and went to her mistresses, Sheridan first to put another cool cloth on her face, and Alys second to inspect the splint on her arm.
Alys waved the woman away, sending her for food.
When the door closed softly behind her, Alys sank wearily into the sling-back chair near the smoldering hearth.
Already, it had been a long and eventful day.
“Where was Neely when this madness was going on?” Sheridan whispered from the bed. “Why is he not here even now?”
Alys gazed at the lancet window, covered by the heavy oilcloth. “I sent him on an errand. He will be gone for some time.”
“You did what?” Sheridan ripped the cloth off, her red eyes glaring at her sister. “Where is he?”
Alys was torn between shame and defiance. “You needn’t yell.”
“Yes, I must,” Sheridan seethed. “Where did you send Neely?”
“To Gunnarsbury.”
“What on earth for?”
Alys was starting to loosen her insolence.
“Because when we were at the Street of the Merchants the other day, a vendor told me about his shop in Gunnarsbury and he said he had the most marvelous delicacy from an ancient recipe from the Holy Land, and that I positively must have some.” She came to a sudden stop and her lip stuck out in a pout. “So I sent Neely to get it for me.”
Sheridan was dumbfounded. “You sent the captain of the guard to Gunnarsbury for food?”
“Not food. A marvelous sweet paste made from Almonds and sugar. They call it Marzipan. Isn’t that a wonderful name?”
Sheridan stared at her sister for a sharp, brief moment before leaping off the bed again and beating Alys over the head with the wet cloth that had been on her eyes.
“Nay,” she screeched. “It is not marvelous. How could you be so foolish? You sent Neely away just so you could be wild and disobedient, and I’ll have none of this, do you hear?”
Alys put her good arm up, trying to protect herself. “Dani, I am sorry. Please do not be so angry at me. I am truly sorry. I promise that I will not do it again!”
Sheridan’s head was about to explode. With a final good smack to her sister’s head, she suddenly fell to the floor, laying down against the cold wooden planks and putting her cheek against the coolness of it. The room was swaying and she felt so ill that she was sure she was going to die.
“Leave me alone, Alys,” she groaned. “You will be the death of me, I swear it. Go away and leave me.”
Alys tried to pick her up from the floor. “Let me help you back to bed.”
“Nay,” Sheridan slapped at her. “Leave me. Go. Please.”
Alys stood over her, uncertain what to do. “But…”
“Go. I shall be fine. I need to lie here quietly.”
Reluctantly, Alys did as she was asked. She opened the door to the antechamber and the little puppy scampered in, racing to Sheridan on the floor and licking her face furiously.
Alys watched as her sister calmed the dog and eventually bade it to lie beside her.
Leaving Sheridan on the floor was a difficult decision, but she’d seen this before.
There were times when her sister had laid on the cold floor for an entire day with a pounding head simply because it felt more comfortable than on a sticky, lumpy bed.
She closed the door to the bower and wandered aimlessly into the antechamber.
She stood there for some time until the servant returned.
The maid had a tray of bread and cheese and Alys sat, eating dejectedly.
All of that energy from her sister had been over only half the story; she hadn’t even told her about Sean breaking her wrist. It had been an accident, of course, but he had still hurt her.
Gazing down at the heavily bandaged arm, it throbbed considerably. The physic had given her a bitter willow brew to drink to ease the pain, but it wasn’t helping. She took another bite of cheese and chewed, lost in self-pity.
A soft rap sounded on the entry. Alys set the cheese down and went to the door. Opening it, she came face to face with a slight young man with deep brown hair and a handsome face. He smiled timidly.
“My apologies for disturbing you, my lady,” he said. “I saw you the other night but we were not formally introduced. I am Guy de Broase.”
Alys swallowed the bite in her mouth, forgetting all about her horrendous morning. Sir Guy’s youthful attractiveness sucked all of the self-pity and confusion right out of her.
“My lord,” she bowed deeply. “I am the Lady Alys St. James.”
“I know.” His smile broadened. “It seems that all of the St. James women are exceedingly beautiful.”
She blushed furiously. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Is Lady Sheridan at home?”
Alys thought of her sister lying on the floor in the next room. “She is indisposed at the moment,” she opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”
“Thank you.”
Guy entered the room respectfully, taking the chair that Alys indicated for him. She offered him some bread and cheese, which he declined. But he did take some wine. It was rapidly apparent, however, that Guy had come for one purpose alone; he had come to see Sheridan.
“I am sorry your sister is unavailable,” he said. “Will she return soon? I hate to burden you with my presence.”
“No burden at all, my lord,” Alys said. She was thrilled to have the opportunity to sit with a handsome young man. “In truth, my sister is ill. She is resting in her bedchamber as we speak.”