Page 108 of The Thornwyck Rose

Baldwin’s brow furrowed.

“Go,” she urged. “If Henry means to kill me, he will not spare them.”

Her daughters ran to her. Seren gathered them close, kissing each forehead as if committing their faces to memory.

“Be brave,” she whispered. “The Lord sees you.”

“Mother,” Ragnar said. He winced. “I love you.”

She cupped his cheek. “You wear my star, my son, just like your brother and your sisters.”

No more words were needed. There was no more time.

Ragnar led them away, Baldwin following.

David watched them before he took his place beside his mother.

Seren turned to the household staff and the keep’s guards. “Let Lord Henry do as he pleases,” she said. “Do not oppose him. Disobedience will fall on David.”

Heads bowed. They understood too well.

“No tears,” she whispered at the misting in their eyes.

She lifted her chin, inhaled once, and walked toward her seat, and David stood beside her. She locked eyes with Father Osbert, who sat in his usual seat, frantically rubbing his knotted prayer rope, prayers silent on his lips.

They waited, listening to the rumble on the floor beneath them. Boots thundered from the stairwell.

“Be strong,” Seren whispered to David, and tried to settle her racing heart.

Henry stormed in, mud streaking up to his knees, armor dented and filthy. The hall fell silent as he strode toward the dais.

His fist closed around the back of a chair, and he hurled it across the wooden planks.

“Commander de Montfort is dead,” he snarled, voice echoing off the stone wall.

Seren froze.

The world narrowed to a single point of sound.

Her pulse crashed in her ears. Her hands trembled. David shifted beside her.

“Dead—?” David whispered.

But Seren couldn’t speak. Grief sliced clean and deep—but she swallowed it, burying the agony beneath breath and bone though her soul cried out to God.

Henry stalked closer, eyes burning with accusation. He stomped toward her with a rage burning on his face. His hand curled with a finger pointed.

“Lost my best knight because of you!” he roared.

Her stomach turned to ice.

“I know it was your doing,” he hissed.

Seren stood slowly and shook her head. “It was not my doing. I have done nothing wrong in the sight of God.”

“Strip her of her noble garments,” Henry snapped as he snatched her and threw her from the dais.

She stumbled but regained her composure with grace. Geoffrey and Jovin stood among the keep’s guards. Only a few of the men-at-arms who had fought in the Marches were within the great hall.