Well?” Lord Laco of Lidice lowered his glass to the table and glared at the two knights who crept furtively into the room. “Where is the wench?”
“Not there,” his captain answered, loosely crossing his arms. “We went to the bookshop, then to the church, then to the preacher’s house. They say she’s been set to work for a family in the country—”
“Impossible!” Laco hissed, flashing them a look of disdain. “The girl was a nobody; she had no connections. No one in Prague would have dared take her in, and she couldn’t even know any of the nobility!”
“Nonetheless, my lord,” the second knight offered, “she is gone.”
“Father!” From his place at the end of the table, Miloslav’s features contorted with shock and anger. “You promised you’d get her for me!”
“I will.”
“But when?” His son’s cold eyes sniped at him. “Some powerful man you are, Father! You cannot even convince a wench that your grand castle is preferable to scrubbing floors in some lord’s kitchen. She was just a common girl, no lady, nothing special—”
“Then why,” Laco choked on his own words, “do you want her? Take any girl you want, Miloslav. Go out into the fields, find any farmer’s daughter, and do what you like with her! But forget this red-haired wench!”
“I can’t forget her.” Miloslav’s voice was cloyingly sweet now, like a spoiled woman’s. “I saw her, I want her, she interests me. Her eyes were like green ice, Father—she would be a challenge! And so,” he leaned back in his chair and studied his nails, “I must have her. Search all of Prague, send messengers and spies to every castle in Bohemia. But find her for me, Father. Just because I want her—and because I’m your son. And no one ever says no to you, do they, Father?” Laco leaned back in his chair and rested his chin on his hand. “No,” he repeated with contempt, “no one ever says no to me.”