She herself had not slept much. She had remained in the hall longer than she had planned, relishing the joyful noise. How much she envied those people, with their simple lives and pleasures. It reminded her of her girlhood, and the security of having a place in the world, of being one stone in a wall built over generations.

It had not only been the merriment that kept her in the hall. She had also stayed to watch Marcus. Pinned in place by a bittersweet melancholy, she had not been able to tear herself away from his presence. Her wistful mood had led her to see more of him than she ever had before.

Despite how his very person proclaimed his status as lord, there had been something about him that reminded her of the squires who gathered around him. Those boys sensed that they had an ally in him, and that he understood their explosive emotions. He was a god to them, and they found excuses to stay near him and curbed their worst excesses to please him.

She had seen more than that, however. Watching him with his people, she had known that he would not back down from the duty laid on his shoulders. He would indeed be in the thick of it. He would do it for his king and his family honor. He would do it for the lands and the power. He would do it because of the years when Anglesmore was lost to him.

He would do it for the same reason she would, because he had been born for it.

The grey outside turned silver, and then the first rays of gold peeked over the wall. Suddenly the silence was pierced by intrusive sounds that echoed unnaturally loud, of servants moving and horses snorting and people talking. Marcus and several other men came into view, dressed for riding, and grooms brought their horses to them.

She had not needed to watch for their departure. She admitted with some chagrin that she had stood by this window so that she could catch a final glimpse of him.

He mounted his horse and sat there, all golds and bronzes and tall strength. These last few weeks he had been an inconvenience. Before the day was out, he would be an enemy.

Suddenly his preparations halted and his body stilled. His gaze swept up the stones of the building until he was looking right at her window. She stepped back quickly, but not before she saw the thoughtful expression on his face.

Horses moved. A gate opened. The small retinue trotted from the yard.

Nesta stayed near the window, seeing that handsome face in her mind, picturing Marcus galloping toward the road. She let him disappear on the horizon of her imagination, then took a deep breath, swallowed the thickness in her throat, and spurred herself to action.