-Mother?- an unsure and faint male voice broke the silence created in the previous hours -Mother? Where are you?-.
No answer seemed to be given.
It was cold, light but penetrating, one of those colds that no warmth would ever be able to fill, a bitter cold.
Warren Dustin had long run along the dark and long corridors of the Dublin palace, the palace where, for generations, the Dustin family had taken root and ruled over the lands of southern Ireland for a long time.
He looked around he turned his green eyes around him countless times, he could see everything, the high walls of majestic and precious marble, the oak wood floor recently waxed, he saw the soft and very long carpet of purple red, crossing the floor completely.
That fabric was fine, washed and perfumed, it smelled of lily of the valley and jasmine, but it wasn't what he was looking for, he couldn't give up not now.
He took a look, beside him, to his right, one of the large windows had remained open, the cold penetrated through that opening, the wind, as the heavy curtains of white and precious fabric were weakly moved from it.
Warren slowly moved towards the window, the air around him enveloped him, filled his lungs, moved his tangled and wavy tawny hair.
He slowly placed his elbows on the cold marble sill, it was really freezing, which immediately made him walk away from that place.
He closed his eyes, breathed into his upturned nose all the smells of nature that surrounded his palace.
Warren Dustin heard with his ears the sound of the small leaves accompanied by spring, moving slowly by the wind.
He could smell the fresh smell of grass covered with small, cold and transparent drops of dew.
He could hear the worldly noises of the great city of Dublin farther off, the talk of the people, with a very determined and strong Irish accent.
It felt closer, the neighing of the horses and their gallop on the stony streets of the city.
He opened his eyes, saw beyond the brown roofs of the many houses in the city, the flowing of the River Liffey, whose clean currents were accompanied by a salty smell.
All that stillness, that calm, that he could perceive inwardly was not obvious, uncommon, for a lord like him.
-Warren, brother, have you found her? Have you found our mother?- an agitated voice interrupted the calm pause of the other, so brutally and unexpectedly.
A hand colder than marble, rested lightly on one of his shoulders, quickly making him come back to himself, to his daily life.
Preston Dustin, his older brother and Earl and protector of the lands of southern Ireland had managed to identify him, he did not know from what, nor how, but from his voice Warren felt he was worried about their mother as much as him.
Warren turned his large emerald eyes to Preston, stared at him for a few minutes, his pale, gaunt face, brown hair, small hazel eyes, flushed with worry.
Warren slowly shook his head twice, leaving his older brother to fall almost on knees, exhausted by anxiety and running.
-Damn!- Preston let it slip out of his mouth, placing both his hands on his lap, pushing lightly on his back.
The thick red-haired man moved completely out of the window, leaving his lower back in contact with the cold sill.
Warren and even Preston, partially knew what kind of free and rebellious nature their mother had for a lady and although the first appreciated this, the latter, more rational, thought that this attitude was not in keeping with her institutional role.
The fact was that after the death of their younger brothers William and Dickon and the departure from home of their only sister, Meredith, only the two of them remained to carry on and rule the entire house.
They could not afford to lose sight of their mother, also because they both knew that she, Annalise Dustin, would have done a massacre to avenge their younger brothers, they knew it and had to stop her.
A noise attracted the attention of both, a thud, the crawling, of the wood on the stony entrance floor, which left the brothers in silence with their lips parted and amazed.
Which most of all made Preston and Warren move towards the entrance, where, as expected, some attendants were preparing one of the biggest and fastest horses for the lady's departure.
As they had in fact expected, Annalise Dustin was there, communicating her last orders to her attendants.
They recognised her, not only by the cloak of a beautiful and precious forest green color that the woman used to carry with her wherever she went during a departure, not only for her face, who despite her forty-five years was still young and free of any wrinkles, but also for the strong and beautiful color of her red hair, closed at the least worst in a braid behind her back.
The woman's green eyes soon passed to her two children, first to one then to the other, her lips were parted with surprise to see both of her children there.
-Mother...- slowly came out of Preston's dry thin pale lips -what is going on here?-.
Annalise Dustin smiled slightly, pursed both her lips, she did not want her children to find out about her intentions, not before she had left and far away in the Irish Sea.
The woman slowly approached the two, smiled at them, looked them in the eyes, hugged both of them so tightly, as she used to do when the two were still children.
-I have to go, boys...- she whispered with love in the ears of the two, leaving an aura of frightened amazement in the background for a few seconds.
-What do you want to do, mother?- asked Warren, the younger of the two in a quavering voice, for some time he had begun to ignore the cold, passing all his attention to his mother's big green eyes.
Annalise smiled, placed one of her light hands on her son's pale face, caressed him, caressed one of his flushed cheeks, it pleased him, even though her hands were cold, as cold as the marble he had touched before.
-A large fleet of ships is waiting for me now at the port of Dublin city, I have to go, I will avenge your brothers, I promise you...-.
What did she want to do?
Did she seriously want to attempt a surprise attack? Had she lost her mind? It would have been very dangerous for the life of the lady herself, there would have had enormous consequences on both sides.
-Mother- Preston resumed her, grabbing one of the woman's hands -you can't do this, please, it's not possible, before an attack you have to sign several war treaties...-.
The woman lightly placed one of her fingers on the dry pale lips of her oldest son, she only knew that the man was right about it, but she could not go on living, not like this, not forever regretting the death of her William and Dickon.
-Only a favour, my children, make sure you bring Meredith, your sister, to the Irish lands as soon as possible, do it for me, please...-.
Preston lowered his face, however reckless this might seem.
One of the things he had always been taught was to respect his parents and this unfortunately also included their decisions.
So as the woman climbed onto her brown horse and galloped off the stony road down the hill, it was Preston who stopped his younger brother's reaction by grabbing, pushing, and squeezing his wrist.
-No! Let me go! We have lost her! Preston...- but as Warren expected an equal reaction from the other, he soon had to lose the illusion as if turning to his own mansion, seeing the pale and tired face of his brother, surrounded by the gray sky full of clouds.
-Preston...-.
-Go back inside...Warren... it will rain soon...-.