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“Shh,” he whispered, the deep lull of his voice brushing against her temple. “I’m so sorry, Blanchette. I’m with you, darling. I’m here.”
Blanchette pulled back from the warmth of his body, her cries melting away and anger rushing in their place. “Then why? Why did it happen? Who did this, Rowan? You were supposed to protect the people! What’s happening to Norland? This... this cannot go on. No more.”
“No more,” he agreed. “This is what I fought to end all my life. It will stop, Blanchette. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll make sure of it.”
I just hope it isn’t too late. He didn’t say those words, but she heard them all the same.
He bent down to the charred body and touched the bones. Closing his eyes, he said the words like a prayer, a promise, “No more.”
* * *
Days later
Huntley rose from his chair as guards brought the guest inside, though his father didn’t stir. The man was a warrior or knight, by the look of him.
“State your name and business,” Huntley said, his voice carrying across the great hall.
“I am Sir Edrick Turner, first captain to Lord Dietrich.”
“Are you, now?” Huntley turned to his father, who remained mute and motionless, then slid forward. His hand found its way to his dagger’s pommel—a golden goat head. “An envoy of Rowan Dietrich, I take it,” he said with a laugh. “Looks like the wolf has sent a sheep to do his bidding.”
“I am no envoy and no sheep.” He tore at the wolf’s head sigil clipped to his vest and tossed it to the stone ground. It echoed dully as it clattered at Huntley’s feet. Huntley stepped over the ornament, his eyes fixed and unblinking on the intruder, his right hand wrapping the dagger’s pommel again.
“I traveled far to speak with you. I think you’ll find our goals are well aligned, my lords. Huntley, your conquests have also traveled far. I’ve heard much about you.”
Huntley flashed a grin, then slid the dagger from its sheathe and idly spun it several times. “Sorry to say I’ve never heard of you.”
Edrick exposed no emotion.
Huntley felt a cold sweep over him. He guessed that anger and joy would show on this man’s face in equal shades. It was a terrifying prospect—not someone you’d want as an ally or enemy.
“And what do you know of me?” he asked, allowing a smile to slip across his face. He spun the dagger once, twice, three times, then shoved it back into its sheathe in a smooth movement. He placed his hands on his hips and studied the man’s eyes.
That’s where the truth always dwells.
In the eyes.
Edrick stood a little taller, and his lips tensed into a thin line. “I’ve heard you’ve kept the peace on our seas. That you’ve broken pirates before they could enter our kingdom or raid our villages. I’ve heard you were once one of the greatest houses. Once upon a time, you were royalty.”
“We are still a great house,” his lord father’s voice cut in, his tone as cold as ice.
Edrick’s mouth ticked at the corner. But again, no emotion showed. “Then why do you order your men to raid villages under the Wolf’s banner? You slaughter those you’ve worked so hard to protect. That doesn’t echo greatness—it screams of desperation.”
Huntley felt his smile slip away. His father came beside him, his pale eyes sharp and penetrating. “You know nothing.”
Edrick slid a hand into his coat and retrieved a shiny ornament—the sigil of Huntley’s house.
Edrick ensnared his gaze with his own, then tossed the sigil to the ground, where it landed beside the snarling wolf’s head.
“You should order your men to take greater care,” Edrick said, his voice as flat as his lord father’s eyes.
“Is this a threat?” Huntley replied, swiftly closing the distance between them, his hand unconsciously reaching for his dagger. “What do you want from us?”
Edrick did smile then. The very sight of it churned his stomach. He stepped forward, his eyes dropping to the dagger Huntley held in his hand. He froze in midair, and the blade came to a sudden stop.
Time seemed to stop with it.
When Edrick at last spoke, his voice was barely audible above the hearth’s popping fire, yet the mettle behind his words was unmistakable.
