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“That’s one thing we can agree on.”
An image from moments before came to mind: Rowan kneeling beside her, his breaths fanning on her milk-white thigh.
Then the door burst open. Rowan jumped away from the girl as if he’d been committing some cardinal sin.
Two guards entered, carrying an injured soldier between their bodies, who looked like Christ being dragged from his cross. The wounded man’s arms were spread wide, wrapped around either side of the guards’ necks. His head lolled as blood streamed down his pale face.
Rowan crossed the solar in three great strides and instinctively stood before the men in a battle-ready stance. His palm wrapped his sword’s wolf pommel.
“Sir Harrison,” Rowan said, his teeth gritted. “How did this happen?”
“Just outside the castle,” one man replied. “A Winslowe soldier.”
“That will kill him. I’ve no doubt.” The voice came from behind Rowan, solid and confident in its airy tone. “The wound shall fester, and he will die before the week’s end.” Blanchette held her head high and her gaze steady. The only giveaway of her nerves was her trembling hands, which grasped the back of the chair and fiddled with the ornate wood. “He needs a salve made from kingswood. It grows in the forest, along the riverbank?—”
“I bet it does.” The guards exchanged angry looks. “Do you take us for a couple of idiots?”
“Kingswood, you say?” Rowan asked, waving at his men to be quiet. She nodded with urgency.
“Sir, it’s clearly a trick to rid you of one of your most valuable captains.”
“Maybe so.” Rowan turned back to the girl, admiring how her golden hair shimmered in the afternoon’s light and the quiet fire in her eyes. “And maybe not.”
“I speak truly,” she reaffirmed. “Is it unfathomable that I’d want to ease a man’s suffering? You are welcome to disregard my words and let him die. It’s no matter to me,” she snapped, mocking his earlier words. “It’d serve you well.”
He stared into her eyes, unsure of what he was searching for. He expected her to squirm and back down, but instead, she held his gaze. “Fine. I’ll permit you to check the stores,” Rowan answered. “Under guard, of course.”
He saw plainly that she didn’t like that, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to object.
She exhaled audibly, then stepped past Rowan and near to the soldier. He felt the breeze of her body whisper by and the subtle scent it carried. She waved her hand toward him, her eyes blazing with a heat Rowan could feel. “Get a poultice on that wound, or your captain shall bleed to death on my father’s floor.”
* * *
Torchlight shimmered off the walls as Rowan and Edrick traveled down the winding stairs to the training yard. Smoke padded off into the shadows.
“Did you harm her lady-in-waiting?” When Edrick said nothing, Rowan grabbed his collar and slammed him into the wall. “Tell me the truth of it.”
Edrick studied Rowan with a steady gaze, his expression unreadable. As it always was. Rowan often valued that skill when they bargained with the enemy, yet he despised it now.
Edrick vibrated with a quiet, barely restrained tension. His eyes were always a little too probing, his brows drawn too tight, and his lips sealed against harsh counsel. The only restlessness he ever showed was his right hand. It constantly felt for the pommel of his sword and seemed most at ease when resting there. Rowan had known Edrick since they were boys. Sometimes he hardly recognized the man his captain had become. “Of course not. I did as you commanded. Many died that night.”
Rowan loosened his hold on Edrick’s collar and stepped back.
He continued moving through the castle halls and signaled his captain to follow. “Death is the way of war, and blood is oft the price of liberation. But that’s not what I’m asking. Did you defile and murder Princess Blanchette’s lady-in-waiting?”
Edrick met his gaze, and his words came easily. He laid a hand on Rowan’s sleeve and said, “Nay, Rowan. My focus was on killing your foes, not whetting my lust.”
Rowan considered him for a moment, his thoughts traveling back several decades.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Edrick interrupted as if reading his thoughts. “Forgive my audacity, but I was there all those years ago. I stood by your side. I know what they did to your wife. Even worse, I saw what it did to you.” Edrick moved his hand away from Rowan’s sleeve. “I would never betray you like that. Not your family’s memory. Not in an entire lifetime. The girl is angry and clearly sowing the seeds of discord.”
Rowan nodded, abashed with a sudden shame. He placed his hand on Edrick’s shoulder and squeezed, returning the sentiment. “I know. Forgive me.”
Edrick stepped away. A solemn look crept to his weathered face. “There are important matters for us to discuss.”
“The girl.” Rowan shrugged and continued walking. “She may prove useful to us. She knows the castle better than anyone.”
Better than anyone who’s still alive.
