Isabella nearly screamed, her heart was in her throat, beating loud in her ears and she was frozen in place. The hand was not hard, nor unkind; it just prevented her from moving any closer. She tentatively glanced over her shoulder, and saw Albert. He put a finger to his lips, and drew her back from the carriages, before walking a ways with her back towards the servant’s train where he said, “It’s best not to be caught knowing too much about court politics, and even better to know nothing of my son’s and lord’s affiliations.”
“But,” she faltered, still reeling from the shock, “should we not tell the king?”
“Neither you nor I have the influence to meet with the king in private, and certainly, not enough to reveal this plot openly.”
“But, shall we do nothing?”
“We are caught, lass, between an obligation to the king and a need to stay alive: which imperative do we follow, particularly since there may be something more concrete that may be done in the future with less risk or to stave off greater danger to the king.”
Isabella thought for a moment, “I shall endeavour to learn more in that case, to be ready.”
“Isabella, I truly think this unwise.”
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