Through a Dark Mist
“Friar muttered. “He does not like them at all.”“You told him I wished to see him?” Servanne whispered, her voice barely louder than the rustling of her skirt over the stone floor.“I told him.”“Then it will not exactly be a surprise, will it?”Friar came to an abrupt halt at the end of one corridor, seeming to mentally verify their position before turning into the musty gloom of another arched stone hallway.“This is utter madness,” he remarked under his breath. “It is nearing midnight. We are as ...apt to get hopelessly lost and wander undiscovered until morning as we are to stumble across a nest of guards sniffing after trouble.”“Why did you not beg our leave of the company an hour ago—or two, for that matter? Most of the guests were too sodden to have noticed our departure.”“Why could you not have waited until morning to see La Seyne? He has been inside the castle walls but a few hours and is in no temper for entertaining foolish young women.”“I heard he met with the prince’s hawking party out on the moor.”“It afforded him the opportunity to decline an invitation to tonight’s festivities without appearing to offer insult to either Prince John, or his host—not that such a petty thing as insulting royalty would have stopped him from declining anyway.MoreLess
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