At last back in his right mind, Greylen headed toward camp. He nodded to the guards posted around the perimeter, then inspected the weapons and horses and checked the well-being of his men. Satisfied they’d be rested by dawn, he made his way to the fire. His men were talking quietly, awaiting his return.

“I owe you an apology, Duncan. But damn your telling was twisted,” Greylen told his man with a smile.

“’Tis I who am sorry…for jumbling the facts. You had me in such a state, I forgot to give you this,” he explained as he held a sealed parcel before him.

“The camp’s secured. Other than the guards, we’re the only ones awake. Seek your rest, ’tis but hours before we march.” Greylen made the order as he took the parcel in his hand. His men left him to his solitude, bedding down behind the tree Greylen sat against.

He opened the envelope and spilled the contents atop his lap. There were two missives and he chose the thickest first, affixed with Gavin’s insignia: the hawk. ’Twasn’t a letter as he assumed, but instead an account of the days Gwendolyn had spent at Seagrave. There were seven entries in all, each shorter in length as the dates progressed.

Eleventh of June,

Read this through, lest you reach the wrong conclusion. I now sit within your chamber and your lady rests within your bed. She wished not to be alone and I swear she ordered I not remain beyond the doors.

She handled the news of your departure with dignity, though a sadness lies beneath she tries to hide. She insisted on leaving the holding so many times, it became apparent she knew not her place. Her further shock at her new surroundings was very real. I was forced to speak of the prophecy, though loosely, and we seem to have come to an unspoken understanding.

I find I am unable to leave her guard and will not do so ’til the morrow. Your medallion lies upon her heart, and your letter within her hand. She stood before the window and watched the setting sun. For a moment, ’twas you who I saw there, as you often wondered of the destiny the writings foretold.

Twelfth of June,

I’ve changed my rotation, not allowing another to stay within your lady’s chamber. She’s healing nicely and has been inside your study as well as the library. Her reactions to both were telling and her emptiness at your absence is written across her face. Yet I am the only one she allows to see it, for I think she knows I, too, have carried such pain. She stood by the window once more before taking to your bed, always stroking the medallion until sleep claims her.