Page 103 of The Thornwyck Rose

He obeyed his stomach. Despite retching, nothing rendered. Curled in on himself, he whispered again, “Seren.”

A boot crushed his belly. “Stop it!”

He groaned and curled tighter.

“Is it Helheim?” he croaked, throat raw. “Valhalla?”

“He’s mumbling in another tongue. Don’t know what he’s saying.”

An enormous shadow lowered beside him, seized a fistful of Erik’s hair, and yanked back.

“I know this face. Commander Payen de Montfort.”

Erik blinked a few times, eyes trying to bring the speaker into focus. The Norman name grounded him—briefly.

“You do not get to say her name,” the shadow hissed. “You took her to that demon’s keep.”

“Payen?” another voice asked. “Like the Norman’spagan?”

“Kill him,” said the large shadow.

“But look at his marks,” a man objected.

“And Father, why he is calling her by her name? Wouldn’t she be Lady de Thornwyck to him?” another voice.

The man who’d tied the meaning behind his false name continued. “He isn’t Norman. Look at his marks, and he said your daughter’s name. Maybe he knows why Lord Henry descended upon us.”

The large shadow, the one they called “Father,” dropped Erik’s head.

“Hold his arms,” he ordered.

Shadows dragged Erik upright, to his knees, with his arms outstretched. The movement dimmed the world. His chin dropped to his chest. Then nothing but a dark buzz.

Then—light. The cold had vanished.

Instead, warmth, a bed.

A woman beside him dabbed sweat from his brow.

“I remember you.” Her voice was low and coarse with age.

He rolled his head toward her. Her face was blurred. Long gray hair. Irises like dying autumn.

“Seren,” he asked, knowing the eyes.

“She is my daughter.” She pressed something cool against his head wound, near his temple.

He flinched. The wool blanket gathered between his fingers as he curled his hands.

“Where am I?”

“Madoc keep,” she said. “You’ve been asleep for two days.”

His head spun. The urge to vomit came again, but he forced himself not to retch in front of the lady. “Why didn’t they kill me? Why am I in a bed?”

The woman rose and stepped back. “He is of sound mind now. Fetch Chief Madoc. Quickly.” Blurs moved. A door opened and closed.

Her voice wavered. “Tell me . . . is she alive?” The question came almost as a whisper.