“Don’t you?” Draven’s voice was so cold it actually sent a shiver down her spine. “You come into the hall of my host, threaten him, his son, and his wife, and you think you have no quarrel with me?”
They gulped in unison.
Draven looked from one to the other. “Who do you think you are to come into a man’s home and make such threats?”
“We just do as we are told,” Frank said, his voice unsure and wavering.
Draven approached Fritz who fair shrank before him. Like a dog herding bulls, he backed them away from Orrick’s table and Reinhold.
“Then I tell you this, as you value your putrid lives, you will leave here and make whatever lies you wish to your master. Never,” Draven paused effectively, “Ever, darken Lord Orrick’s doorway again. For if you do, there is no corner of hell you can find to hide in that I won’t come seek you out. And I promise you, your master’s wrath is nothing compared to mine. Do you understand?”
If they didn’t they were too foolish to live. Draven’s deadly calm voice and heated glower sent chills of terror up and down her body.
“We understand,” they said simultaneously.
Draven gestured to Orrick. “Then make your apologies to the lord and lady.”
“We beg your pardons.” They bowed before Lord Orrick.
“Now, leave.”
They bolted from the room.
Lord Draven raked Reinhold with that same menacing glare, then looked to Lord Orrick. “This is the reason you’ve swindled the king?”
Emily saw the shame on Orrick’s face. “Aye,” he whispered. “For all his faults, he is my son and I would never see him harmed.”
Draven took a deep breath. “And you are willing to give the king your life to save his?”
“He’s my son.” Orrick pushed his chair back from the table and rose to his feet. “If you will give me but a moment in private to say good-bye to my wife I shall go peacefully with you.”
Draven stood there, staring at Orrick. She couldn’t read his emotions or his thoughts, and she couldn’t imagine what terror Orrick must be feeling.
Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Simon touched her forearm and shook his head in warning.
“It won’t be necessary,” Draven said at last. “For your crime, I will extend your service to the king from two weeks this year to eighteen months.”
Orrick sighed in relief and nodded. “Then I shall have my squire fetch?—”
“I’m not finished,” Draven said dispassionately.
“Forgive me,” Orrick cast his gaze to his feet.
“Since your wife is with child, I think it best that your son serve the king in your place.”
“What!” Reinhold shouted.
Draven turned to him and Reinhold shrank back from that deadly glower. “I think eighteen months in London under the care of Master William will teach you the discipline you need to respect a man and woman who would risk their lives to shelter you. And were I you, boy, I would be grateful to them, for they are the only thing that prevents me from turning you over to Fric and Frac.”
Emily bit her lip at Lord Draven’s mercy. She turned to exchange a relieved look with Christina.
“Alexander?” Draven called.
One of his knights stood up from the lower tables. “Aye, milord?”
“Reinhold is in your custody. Come morning, I want you to escort him to London and if he gives you any trouble, handle it as you see fit.”
“Aye, milord.” Alexander, whose size made mockery of the two mountains who had brought Reinhold in, came forward and took Reinhold by the arm. “If it pleases you, milord, I shall see him sobered forthwith.”
