Husband.
The irony coiled tight. Aragon's lips quirked. "I believe I know where he is.
Let me show you where he is, my lady."
He took her hand—small, trembling—and led her up the east tower's winding stairs, silent as shadows. Katelyn was startled but didn't resist and allowed herself to be taken by him.
The upper rooms awaited: a disused solar with vast arched windows overlooking the inner bailey and velvet drapes half-drawn for privacy. Moonlight silvered the chamber, casting long shadows over a massive oak table strewn with forgotten parchments.
There was nobody in the upper rooms, except for the four people now.
Aragon guided Katelyn to a shadowed alcove behind a cracked pillar, positioning her at the window's edge. Through the panes, unobscured: Beltar and Rosaryn, lost in their "discussions."
