Page 119 of The Thornwyck Rose

A holler of support rang through the great hall despite the falter in David’s speech. Seren glanced at Father Osbert, who nodded with an unburdened smile. David needed to grow into his lordship, but he was well-equipped and well-prepared.

Erik swayed; she saw it. His body folded to the floor an instant later, the collapse he had held back for too long. Her breath ripped from her chest.

Had she traded one life for another? Was this God’s judgment—that for the blood on her hands, she would lose the man who had bled for her?

She wanted to run to him, but the hall still watched.

Geoffrey leaned over Erik and checked his neck. “He’s chilled.”

Seren almost shouted the order, but David did first. “Take him to the council chamber; bring flax and vinegar. Light the hearth. Bring furs.”

Seren breathed only when Erik was lifted because his chest still moved. And she promised herself she would not lose him now—not after this, not if it was the Lord’s will. Notafter he had crossed winter and death itself to reach her. But David needed to give more orders, so she whispered, “Ragnar, sisters, father, keep.”

David shifted his weight and gulped before the orders spilled out in a rush.

“Godric, bring Ragnar and my sisters from hiding. Steward, take my father’s body to the chapel. Everyone else, prepare for a siege in case our peace negotiations do not go as planned.”

He motioned to Father Osbert. “Father, please come with us. Montfort needs you. The dead can wait.”

XL

THE HOLY PUNISHMENT

THORNWYCK KEEP, DECEMBER 1099

The corridor blurredwith torchlight as Seren followed the men carrying Erik’s unconscious body. His head sagged against Geoffrey’s arm; his blood trailed in dark drops along the floor. He had stood for her. Fought for her. Bled for her.

And now was this her divine consequence?

David kept close to her side, his voice growing firmer as he commanded, “Warm the chamber. Quickly.”

Margot hurried ahead to throw open the council chamber door while Isolde fanned the small flame in the hearth. Father Osbert whispered Scripture behind them, the words a rhythm meant to comfort, but each verse felt like a weight on Seren’s shoulders.

The guards lowered Erik onto the floor near the hearth and withdrew at David’s signal.

Erik remained unconscious.

Seren’s breath caught high in her chest.

“Please,” she whispered to God alone. “Not him. Not for this.”

Seren grabbed a fur-lined blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders before Margot could speak. David fetched another, layering it across his legs.

Erik remained still.

Geoffrey stood by the door watching as Father Osbert stood nearby reciting scriptures in a murmur.

Seren kneeled beside Erik, pressing her palms over his chest, then his neck, then the side of his face. His skin burned cold still.

“He’s freezing,” Seren said as Isolde fanned the hearth to blazing life.

At least Erik wasn’t feverish.

Margot touched Seren’s forearm, tugging at her sleeve with a hushed whisper to follow. “Milady, there are eyes here?—”

“I am helping,” Seren said, breath shaky but sure. She gathered the blanket tighter around him, tucking it under his chin as if he might feel the difference.

Father Osbert murmured behind her.