If the bishop thought the village Black a place of pagans, how would he treat them when they arrived? He hadn’t wasted a minute once Cavan returned to the hall. Cavan had appeared relieved, so Artair assumed all was well with Honora. He had signaled his brother that this wasn’t the case with the bishop and that he should approach with caution. Cavan had fabricated a mission that required Artair’s immediate attention and served as a ruse for his necessary departure from the keep. The bishop hadn’t been at all suspicious, though he made it known that he would speak with Cavan there and then. Artair caught up with the approaching group from the village Black only a few hours from the keep. Bethane greeted him with a hug and a smile. “It is good to see you again.” Artair could not get over her beauty. Though her lines and wrinkles attested to advanced years, Bethane still seemed young. She walked alongside a cart with firm and steady steps. Her long white braid lay over her shoulder, on her chest, and shined silky soft, and her skin glowed as if the sun kissed it pink.
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