He curled his lip at the thought. When had he ever known anything else? Even in England he had known nothing but torment. Nothing but ridicule.
He had never belonged anywhere.
Kill him and be done with it. Eat well tonight and worry about the morrow when it comes.
That was all he knew. That basic philosophy was what had gotten him through his short, hard life.
Determined to eat again, Sin crept forward.
Henry came awake the instant he felt a hand on his throat. Then, he felt a cold, sharp blade pressing against his Adam’s apple.
“One word and you die,” the cold, harsh words were tinged in an accent that was a strange blend of Scottish, noble Norman-French and Saracen.
Terrified, he looked to see what sort of man could infiltrate his guard and...
Henry blinked in disbelief as he caught sight of his killer. It was a scrawny, frail boy dressed in Saracen rags. Wreaking of hunger and with black eyes devoid of emotions, the boy stared at him as if he were weighing the value of Henry’s life.
“What do you want?” Henry asked.
“Freedom.”
He frowned at the child and the strange, thick accent he spoke in. “Freedom?”
The boy nodded, his eyes burning eerily in the darkness. Those eyes didn’t belong to a child. They belonged to a demon who had seen hell firsthand.
One half of the boy’s face was swollen and blackened from a beating and his lips were split and cracked. His neck was red, raw and bleeding as if he normally wore a steel collar around it that he fought against.
Henry looked down to see similar injuries on both of his wrists. Aye, someone made a habit of chaining the child like an animal. And the boy had made a habit of fighting his manacles.
By the child’s expression, Henry could tell he waited for betrayal. That the boy expected it.
Still, he tried to bargain. “If you will give me my freedom, I will spare you life tonight and give you my loyalty until the day I die.”
If those words had come from anyone else, Henry would have laughed. But there was something about this child that let him know gaining this boy’s loyalty was quite a feat and that once given, it was truly valuable.
“If I say no?”
“I will kill you.”
“My guard will capture you if you do and they will kill you.”
The boy shook his head slowly. “They will not capture me. They will only die trying.”
Henry didn’t doubt that in the least. It had been quite a herculean feat for the child to get this far already.
He looked at the boy’s long, black hair and black eyes. Still, his sun-blistered skin was fairer than most of those born to this region. “Are you Saracen?”
“I am...” He paused at the answer. The sharpness faded from his eyes and revealed a pain so profound that it made Henry ache from the rawness of it. “I am not Saracen. I was squire to an English knight who sold me to the Saracens so that he could buy passage home.”
Henry lay stunned at the news. Now he understood the poor shape of the boy. There was no telling what abuse and depravity the Saracens had heaped onto him. What kind of monster would sell a child into the hands of an enemy? The cruelty of it overwhelmed him.
Henry let out a tired breath. “I will see you free.”
The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “This had best not be a trick.”
“It’s not.”
The boy released him and moved away from the bed.
