Page 20 of The Knight's Pledge
The boy stopped as if pulled up short on a leash and he turned around with a bewildered look on his face.
“Come to me at once,” Effie demanded, the command breathy.
“But, Mama—”
“At once,George Thomas!”
Lucan did not turn as the boy walked obediently back in the direction from which he’d come—he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze from the terrible sight of what Caris Hargrave had become.
“It’s alright, George,” the wraith rasped, and it reminded Lucan of fine gravel sliding over sandstone. Her smile was small, as if the bones of her face were frozen. She looked past Lucan with those frightening, wilting eyes. “Hello, Euphemia.”
Effie stepped to Lucan’s right and sank into a deep curtsey, her face nearly touching the stones. “My king.” She stayed there and the moments dragged past. No one in the hall moved, save George Thomas, who shifted slightly from foot to foot, as Henry took his time to welcome the newcomer to his court.
“Euphemia Hargrave, I presume,” he said at last.
Effie rose, graceful in a way Lucan couldn’t imagine after being folded in half in such a fashion for so long.
But it was her son who replied, “This is my mama, Hen—my lord.”
“I took the name Effie Annesley many years ago, Your Grace,” she said.
“A rather questionable decision, wouldn’t you now say?” the monarch queried.
Effie lifted her chin. “Forgive me for disagreeing with you so soon upon our first meeting, lord, but no. I’m proud to bear thename Annesley.”
“Is that so?” Henry seemed surprised. “There may be something to hear, after all. We shall soon see.”
A servant had come in after the old women and placed two chairs on the floor before the left side of the dais. Vivienne Paget helped Caris to sit and then took the other seat herself.
Another servant appeared with a chair that he placed on the opposite side of the aisle as the king looked back to Lucan. “I’ll get to you in a moment, Sir Lucan.”
Lucan bowed and went to the chair, leaving Effie and George Thomas standing alone, juxtaposed between the other inhabitants of the room. The servants left quietly through the door behind the table.
“Why have you come to my court,Euphemia Hargrave?” Henry asked, and Lucan couldn’t help but wonder if the king was purposefully goading Effie with thehated moniker.
“My son was abducted from the wood beyond our home. I found a letter penned by Lady Paget that informed me that George Thomas had been brought to London. I’ve come toretrieve him.”
“You don’t seem surprised to see Lady Caris,” he led. “You must have believed her dead, if the accounts I received of the fire at Darlyrede House are to be believed.”
“Evil is difficult to kill, my lord. The devil himself likely ejected her.”
Henry raised his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth drew down. “Hmm. Harsh words from a woman who was herself raised in luxury at Darlyrede.” His gaze went suddenly to the boy, holding on to his mother’shand. “George.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Where did you tell me you lived again?”
“TheWarren, lord.”
“Ah, yes.” Henry nodded, as if just then recalling the detail. “And what exactlyis the Warren?”
“It’s agiantcave, lord.”
“I see. Have you always livedat the Warren?”
“Yes, lord.”
Now Henry looked to Caris Hargrave, who was pressing a kerchief to mouth. “Lady Caris, did you abduct this child from a cave?”
