The cold, hard knot in Jocelynn's stomach didn't go away after she left the garden.
It followed her through the long afternoon, through supper in the Great Hall, and the endless evening of polite conversation with Owain's knights and their wives. It sat beneath her ribs like a stone while she smiled and nodded and laughed in all the right places.
Adala wasn't at supper. Jocelynn noticed her empty chair at the end of the table, and from the look in his eyes, so did Owain.
"Your new lady keeps to herself," he remarked, swirling his wine. "Sharp-tongued little thing, isn't she? I heard her mocking Sir Rain in the stable yard this morning."
"Sir Rain isn't one to shy from a bit of mockery himself," Jocelynn pointed out. "Adala is clever. Sir Rain shouldn't expect her to be an easy target if he wants to fence with words. I like her."
"Clever women need a firm hand," Owain said as he smiled at her over the rim of his cup. "You know that better than anyone, don't you, my pearl?"
