Page 22 of Wolfehound
Everything about him seemed to ripple with power.
“My lord,” Liam said as he pulled his helm off, revealing blond hair that was sticky with sweat. “It has been a long time.”
Carlton smiled at a young man he genuinely liked. “Liam, you do not have to address me so formally anymore,” he said. “I am no longer your master and you are no longer my squire.”
Liam grinned, revealing a straight line of white teeth and big dimples in each cheek. “I know,” he said. “But it seems sinful to do anything else. I do not think I shall ever look at you as anything other than my master.”
Carlton chuckled softly. “I understand,” he said, glancing at Colm, who nodded in agreement. “I viewed my old mentor the same way. I think we all do.”
Liam’s focus shifted to Colm briefly. “De Lara,” he greeted him. “It is good to see you. I did not expect to, to be honest.”
Colm knew what he meant. His father, Garreg, had been in bad health and Colm was expected to return home to take his place at his father’s side. At least, that had been the situation the last time Liam visited. But the truth was that Colm and his father had never gotten on well and he’d been reluctant to go, even though that had been expected of him. He’d made the decision to return when his father passed and no sooner, which was why he was still at Folkingham. But that wasn’t something he was ready to discuss at the moment, so he glossed over it.
“I’ve not gone home yet,” he said. “Someday, but not now. But let us not discuss me—we are honored by your unexpected visit, Liam. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Liam’s smile faded a little. “I bring news,” he said. “May we go somewhere to speak?”
Carlton nodded immediately. “Will the hall do?”
“I would prefer the solar. It is more private.”
Carlton started to move toward the keep, casting a long glance at Colm as he did so. Perhaps Colm’s paranoia had some basis now. The three of them headed toward the keep, with Carlton asking about Liam’s journey, talking about the weather, and anything else inconsequential. By the time they reached the steps to the keep, he’d run out of things to say, so they continued in silence until they reached the solar and Colm quietly closedthe door behind them. Then it was just the three of them and a room full of silence.
Liam was the first one to speak.
“Thank you, my lord, for welcoming me into your home once again,” he said, settling his helm on the nearest table. “I realize that my visit is unexpected. I hope it is not inopportune.”
Carlton shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Your visits are never inopportune, but we are understandably curious. Colm thinks you’ve come to bring doom and gloom upon us.”
Liam smiled weakly, looking at Colm, who simply shrugged. “That is his nature,” he said. “He is naturally suspicious of certain situations. Mayhap that is why he has stayed alive so long—his natural suspicion.”
Colm chuckled. Even Carlton smiled. But that smile quickly faded. “I think we all have that innate suspicion that has kept us alive,” he said. “That is part of a knight’s training. And my innate suspicion tells me that you’ve not come to discuss trivial subjects. Am I correct?”
Liam nodded. “You are,” he said. “I’ve come to deliver news.”
“What news?”
Liam cleared his throat softly. “Not good news, I am afraid,” he said. “There are several messengers riding through England at this time, delivering the same news. It is something that should be delivered in person.”
“Whatnews, Herringthorpe?” Colm demanded. “Do not make us beg for it.”
Liam glanced at him, but his focus was on Carlton. “Six weeks ago, on the twentieth day of June, the Earl of Warenton, William de Wolfe, passed away. Scott de Wolfe is now the new Earl of Warenton.”
Colm stared at him a moment before closing his eyes and dropping his head, a gesture of genuine sorrow. Carlton’s gaze was steady as he processed what he’d been told, but thatsteadiness morphed into the same expression that Colm had as a sense of mourning began to fill the chamber.
“The Wolfe of the Border has finally passed into legend,” Carlton said softly. “Truthfully, I am surprised to hear this. He’d lived so long that I was certain he would live forever.”
Liam nodded, the strain of grief on his features. “We all did,” he said. “You were not alone in that assumption.”
“How did it happen?”
Liam lowered himself into the nearest chair, a weary gesture. “It was the strangest thing,” he said. “According to his wife, he’d had a restless day. He seemed to be moving from one task to another, insisting things needed to be done. You know that his son, Blayth, has mostly taken over command of Castle Questing. It has been that way for about five years now, ever since Warenton fell from his horse and injured himself. His wife scolded him for a full day and a full night until, finally, he relinquished command to his son.”
“Blayth,” Carlton said curiously. “I do not know a son by that name.”
“It is James,” Liam said quietly. “You heard that he was discovered in Wales, without memory of his former life due to the head wounds he had received at Llandeilo.”
Carlton nodded. “I had heard about his return,” he said. “So he calls himself Blayth?”
