Chapters (76)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- PART III
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- INTERLUDE
- PART IV
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- INTERLUDE
- PART V
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART VI
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- INTERLUDE
- PART VII
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- PART VIII
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
“My dear,” he cleared his throat, tapping her nose with his forefinger, “reading is the opposite of wasting time. There is no finer way to enjoy a sliver of one’s life than by enjoying the entirety of another’s.”
She never knew what to say to him. “You’re so interesting.”
“Never use the word ‘so,’” he announced, clapping his book closed to escort her down the hall. “It’s the worst word in the English language. If you modify any word at all with the word ‘so’, then it should become another word. If I were ‘so interesting,’ well then I would become ‘intriguing.’ And if I were ‘so intriguing,’ I would become ‘fascinating.’ If I were ‘so fascinating,’ well then I must be ‘mesmerizing.’”
“And what if you were ‘so mesmerizing’?”
“I’m not.” He laughed, squinting until his skin all wrinkled up around his eyes. “Go the other direction, pass ‘boring,’ and you’ll find me at the end.”
So no, she thought, pushing outside the barracks hall. Lady Margery’s comment was not so ridiculous, it was … unthinkable. But then again, it wasn’t really unthinkable, as Lady Margery had clearly thought it. There were a great number of lords and ladies in the castle of late, come to pay their respects to poor Roger, but not one of them had come to marry William. Wherever Lady Margery had heard such a thing, she must have misheard it.
Outside, Arable bunched up her dress and pushed up to the great keep in the upper bailey, hesitating for a moment at the sight of the double-lion banners. The bailey teemed with strangers, as Prince John’s attendants had practically claimed the entire thing for themselves. Arable could come and go as she wished of course, but the prince’s presence was more than alarming.
She rushed through the yard with her head down, relieved to slip into the tall stone keep. But the moment she was inside, she felt a punch in her heart, as she always did. The stairs led to Roger’s office. The room where he had been killed. It was William’s office now, but she hated meeting him there. She couldn’t overcome the memory of Roger’s body on the ground, and the way his blood crawled across the stone floor. For a moment she forgot why she was heading there. Why she would ever want to be in that room again.
She suddenly doubted whether she ought to disturb William at all. He could become so irritated at times when he was interrupted, and had little time for anything besides critical business. Sharing a laugh over the day’s gossip hardly counted as important.