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fingertips. The knights who wandered in to join him in their wait for de Lohr were all men he had fought with. He liked seeing his old friends again.
    “De Titouan,” Edward de Wolfe, Christopher’s right-hand man, smiled warmly at Rod as he entered the room. A tall man with golden-hazel eyes, he was brilliant and politically savvy, and it was rare that Christopher made a move without him. He reached out to clap Rod on the shoulder. “It has been a long time since I last lay eyes upon your ugly face.”
    Rod grinned. “A year, at least,” he said. “It was last February, I believe. I have been fifteen months without your hideous hide and I have considered myself blessed.”
    Edward laughed loudly and moved to take a second cup of wine from the pitcher on the table next to Rod. “Blessed, indeed,” he scoffed. “You have missed me terribly. Admit it.”
    Rod, still grinning, took a long drink of wine. “Never,” he said staunchly. “But, because I do not wish to see you weep like a woman, I will say that I am somewhat pleased to see you.”
    Edward clinked his earthenware cup against Rod’s, in a toasting gesture. “As am I,” he said quietly, taking a long drink. “How is it at Bronllys Castle these days?”
    Rod shrugged. “I spend my time between Bronllys with my grandfather and Whitebrook with my mother,” he said. Then, he sobered dramatically as sad memories came to the forefront. “She is not the same since Rhys’ death, you know. Nothing brings her comfort except for Rhys’ son. Maddoc seems to be the only one she will warm to these days. My father is very worried for her.”
    Edward’s expression softened. “Your brother was a great man,” he said, deep sorrow in his tone. “I still cannot believe... that is to say, I keep expecting him to walk through the door at any moment. The man was so big and powerful and vital. I cannot accept that he is gone. I cannot accept that Lawrence is gone, either. That raid on Ludlow last February was a particularly devastating one. We lost two of the best knights I have ever known.”
    Rod nodded faintly, thinking on his older brother, Rhys du Bois. He was his half-brother, actually, a massive man of uncanny strength and skill. Last year, Rhys had been entrusted with a mission of vital importance and ended up falling in love with the woman he had been sworn to protect. He has lost his life trying to keep her safe. At least, that was the story everyone knew. The accepted truth was that Rhys and his lady-love had died after being captured by opposing forces, but the reality was something much different. The only people in the entire world who knew the real story were David de Lohr and Rod, and they would take that secret to the grave with them. The secret was that Rhys, in fact, had not died on that misty morning. He had escaped, as had the lady, and were now living in anonymity in France. But, in a sense, Rhys du Bois had died that day, at least, the man they remembered had.
    But Rod shook himself from that secret, fearful that he might say something to inadvertently suggest he knew something more to the story. Instead, he sought to change the subject and tried not to be too obvious about it.
    “I miss Lawrence,” he said, pouring himself more wine. “As frightening as the man was, I still miss him.”
    Edward was back to smiling, a lopsided gesture. “He was as gentle as a kitten,” he said, “provided one did not anger him.”
    Rod was back to smiling also as he drank his wine, glad to be off the subject of his brother. “True enough,” he said. “Now, tell me, why am I here? What has happened that the great and mighty de Lohr has sent for me?”
    It was a given fact that whatever Christopher knew, Edward knew, so Edward didn’t try to brush off the question. In fact, he thought to give Rod a bit of a warning so that he wouldn’t be blindsided by Christopher’s interrogation. Setting his wine cup down, he drew up the nearest chair.
    “Trouble in