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“Lock her up,” I order, watching Cayson yank her prone body from the cart.
The worthless realization that I should have gone south to collect her myself assaults me. Or I should have at least sent Eldon. I lift my gaze to Noé for an explanation. To the man’s credit, he doesn’t flinch, but he does look ill at ease. “Things didn’t go to plan,” he admits from the other side of the wagon.
“To plan?” I grit out. “A Range Warrior is dead at the hands of my intended bride under the watch of my Warrior Commander. Things arefarbeyond the plan, Noé.”
He grimaces, those stupid molars he takes from his kills and threads into his hair glinting in the torch light. “I admit I underestimated her,” he says, coming around the cart.
I glare at him, rage beginning to bubble just below the surface. I have to check the urge to beat him to a pulp, right here and now. But that’s something my father would have done. And I am not him. To distract myself, I watch the woman being dragged off to the holding cells between two warriors, her head flopping about, the still-attached chains clinking against the stone.
“My deve!” Zola’s sharp voice pierces my skull. “My son is dead and I will have retribution. Do you hear me? Swift and sure. I want that traitorous bi–”
“First,” I say loudly, cutting her off. Zola Cyrun has been a thorn in my side since day one of my rule. “We will have Carson lifted tothe Eternalas is befitting a Range Warrior.” I look pointedly to her son’s body which is being removed from the wagon.
“But –”
“Enough!”
Mouth twisting with grief, she turns her back on me and follows her son’s corpse as it’s transported to the clearing outside the stronghold’s walls where the pyre will be lit with the morning’s first rays of light. There is nothing more sacred in the Realms than a warrior who has been lost.
“That woman is a menace,” Noé grumbles, watching them retreat.
“No, that woman has lost a son. And we have lost a warrior.”
A noise approximating a growl comes from his throat, but I hold up my hand to stop him. “Hold your tongue for now. Over food, you can explain this to me in a way that makes sense.” Because, so far, I see no sense whatsoever in this situation. After Eldon, there’s no one I trust more than Noé. He may be a bit of an uptight prig, but missteps of this magnitude are unheard of. In fact, buried somewhere under my fury lies an entire slab of disbelief.
We enter the Great Hall, which is much busier than usual. Though everyone from the village is welcome at the Great Hall, most of my people are farmers who live and work on the surrounding land. Usually they have little time for a trip to the stronghold if it’s not market day.
A hush falls over the room, the high stone walls magnifying the silence and our booted footsteps. Obviously, the story has spread like wildfire. I’m sure everyone feels vindicated. I know I do. Taking a wife from among the snakes of D’heilar was an absurd notion from the start.
I head for our usual table in the far corner of the room, steering clear of the dais, which I sit upon only when I must. I notice with satisfaction that someone has already removedherchair from the head table.
As soon as we sit down, Lorna is there with two tankards of ale.
“My deve,” she coos. “So sorry to hear that your intended has lived up to her ancestors’ reputation.” My eyes catch on her full red lips and I almost let thoughts of what she can do with them fill my head. “If you need comfort at all,” she continues, “you know where I’ll be.”
Without waiting for a response, she leaves and Noé stifles a laugh. “When is she going to give up on you? She should be married by now.”
I can’t stop a smirk. “If Lorna married, there would be a revolt among the men.”
Noé gives a knowing nod. “Her cunt is where I’m hoping to land tonight.”
“You and half this room.”
“I’m not against sharing,” he retorts as Eldon slaps him on the shoulder.
“Noé, my friend,” Eldon says, sitting next to him. “Wouldn’t you rather have one, permanent woman to warm your bed? One you don’t have to hunt down and cajole onto your cock every night?”
Both Noé and I grimace. My second in command and cousin is famously besotted with his wife of the last seven years, Daysa . . . and their three children.
“Fuck no,” Noé chokes out.
Eldon only laughs like it’s not him but Noé who’s the fool before he turns to me. “So, is what I hear true, Luka? That Carson Cyrun has finally met his end?” He says it with a bit of relish, but I suppose it’s no secret that Eldon never liked Carson . . . or Cayson for that matter.
“Though,” he goes on, “I guess we’ve got bigger problems, considering who brought that end about.” A huge grin splits his face, showing us his teeth from behind his shaggy blond beard. “Looks like your bride has some unexpected claws, dear cousin. You’ve always been a lucky son of a bitch.”
“Lucky?” I counter.He can’t be serious.
Lorna returns carrying three trenchers of stew. “Don’t upset my deve, Eldon. He has enough going on without you –”
