Rosamund
Julian's words hung in the air between us.
I studied his face, searching for his intent. Everyone in my life had one: my father, Jennifer, Morwen, and even Clyde. No one offered information freely in this world. Everything came with a price or a motive, and the man standing in front of me with the King's insignia on his collar was no exception.
What did he want from me? How could I possibly be of help to him if he was willing to let me in on some secrets?
"Then tell me," I said. "Tell me what you know."
He glanced around the main hall, then turned back to me. "Not here. Somewhere private."
I nodded and led him through the corridor to the parlour where I'd received him days ago. I closed the door behind us. The room was quiet, the morning light falling in pale squares across the carpet. I took the chair by the window while he remained standing, one hand resting on the leather case across his chest, the other loosely at his side.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
