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I lean back into my chair until my temper is under control.
The boy made a mistake.
One that many would have made in his shoes.
I can forgive a mistake, but not disloyalty.
“Very well. I’m going to ask you a slew of questions. Bear in mind that your fate depends on the answers you give me. Speak true and you shall have mercy. Speak false, and may the gods have mercy on your soul.”
Another nod, this one accompanied by a sob.
“My squire has advised me that you’ve been seen fraternizing with one of the queen’s handmaidens. Is this true?”
This time, whatever courage still resides in him, appears long enough for him to lift his head and look me in the eye.
“It is, my king.”
“And while you were conversing with said maid, did she by chance ask you questions about me, your king?”
“She did, my king,” he admits sullenly.
“What questions did she ask you?” I ask, my voice calm and collected.
The young soldier swallows dryly, his gaze bouncing off his general and the other men in the room, before it fixes back on me.
“She only seemed interested in one thing, my king.”
“That being—”
“The letter you received earlier today,” he chokes out. “She wanted me to tell her who it had come from.”
“And what did you tell her?” I insist.
“At first, I told her I had no idea. That my job was to keep a sword to the rider’s neck while you read the letter. That I didn’t even see the parchment, so I had no way of knowing which seal it held,” he begins to explain at rapid speed.
“You said at first,” I point out. “Which makes me believe you told her something in the end.”
“I told her I wasn’t sure. I told her it could have been my imagination. But… but…” he stammers, eyes filled with fear as well as remorse for his actions.
“But,” I encourage, “you saw something. Didn’t you?”
He nods, silent tears streaking down his face.
“The rider had a ring. A ring with a marigold on it,” he confesses at last.
Fuck.
If he told her that, then there is no way Katrina doesn’t know it was Atlas who sent me the letter.
Fuck!
“I’m so sorry, my king. I’m so sorry,” the boy breaks down, my men holding on to his arms the only thing preventing him from falling to the ground.
“Did you fuck her at least?” Brick belts out, sounding more like himself and interrupting the young soldier’s wails of regret.
The boy’s face flushes, his tear-stricken gaze lowering to his dick.
“I see. She used her mouth to ensure you’d use yours.” I groan. “What’s your name, boy?”
