Chapter Fifteen
The glow of a candleon the tabletop beside the bed washed over the room in muted light and flickering shadow. A form sat up in the bed. A woman crouching on the floor didn’t move, but the sobbing ceased.
Raven acted instinctively, lurching forward, and grabbed the woman’s arm to yank her away from the bed, away from the man.
The woman’s back arced, her hands clutching a black line around her throat. She fell to her knees, gagging.
Raven scanned the woman for the reason she was choking. She traced the black line around the woman’s throat to the bed and the man. He had tied a rope around her neck to prevent her escape. He was choking her. Killing her. That was why she hadn’t moved. He had a leash around her neck.
Raven brought the edge of her sword down on the rope, cutting it.
The woman fell forward to her hands and knees, gasping.
Raven held her weapon out toward the man and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Are you well?” she asked with concern.
The woman nodded, her shoulders heaving as she slowly caught her breath.
Raven’s furious gaze targeted the man who now stood at the side of the bed. His blond hair was in disarray, sticking up around his head. One of his eyes was gone. He still wore chainmail armor. “Go,” she ordered the woman.
“Please,” the woman gasped. “You have to help my husband.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m not certain,” she sobbed.
The man jerked forward as if to run past them out the door.
Raven stepped into his path, bringing the tip of her blade up. “Leave,” she ordered the woman.
The woman quickly opened the door and fled, leaving the door open. Tings from a sword fight echoed in the hallway. Raven wanted to go to Landyn’s aid, to help him, but she would not let Boucher go.
Flickering light from the torches in the corridor flooded the room. Raven’s shadow fell over Boucher.
He smirked, stretching his hands out to the side. “I am weaponless. Surely, a woman of your honor would not strike me down without a weapon.”
Her teeth ground, her body tensed with anger. He was mocking her. She held her sword out before her and approached him. “Did you give those unarmed farmers a fighting chance?” she asked in a low voice.
“Farmers?” His lip quivered in a grin. “Which ones?”
Fury fell over her. How many innocents had he killed? “Did you give my father a fighting chance?”
“Your father?” he asked in confusion.
“John Hawke.”
“Ahhh!” His brows rose in understanding. “This is about revenge. Yes. I killed him as my men held him. He was weaponless; he didn’t have a chance.”
Raven’s fist trembled as she gripped the sword.
“But killing me so coldly is not the Hawke way. You poor, pathetic people arehonorable.” He said the word with distaste. His smirk was dark.
He was right. Killing him outright was not the Hawke way. Although, she wanted to kill him for everything he had done to Rolf and his family, for the dead farmers, for Landyn’s wife, and especially for her father. Her muscles quivered. “Where is my father’s key?”
His lips turned up on one side. He knew he had the upper hand. He reached into his chainmail tunic and tugged out the key. It was on a black cord around his neck. “I like to keep mementos of my victories.”
Raven forced herself to remain calm. He would not have that memento for long, she promised herself.
“Would you like a closer look at it?” He dangled it before him, swinging the golden key back and forth.
