CHAPTER fifty-three: Find her.
“Gone?” Conroy ground out, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles paled against the brown flesh of his arms. His expression was disbelieving and drawn, his blue eyes dark with unease as he added, “What are you both saying?”
A grim-faced Arian stepped forward, holding up the kirtle she had worn that morn, “I found this in this stables where her favorite horse used to be. The stable was empty of the horse, Kelly and the guard told me the lady left.”
Reaching out, Conroy took the embroidered kirtle Arian handed to him and held it up against his nose. Although that was unneeded as he had recognized the kirtle himself at sight, it was the one he loved seeing her wear.
“Her room was empty…” Sian swallowed, “She left a message for you. It was written with her blood on her drying cloth.”
Conroy looked at her, silently asking for it.
She handed it to him. He held the drying cloth against the firelight, turned it this way and that to see the muddled lettering.