Page 128 of The Thornwyck Rose

XLIII

THE MOURNFUL TWELFTHTIDE

THORNWYCK KEEP, JANUARY 1100

The first ofTwelfthtide came and passed in Mortlande three days after the vigil, where the Welsh chiefs disbanded, promising harmony if David remained peaceful.

Villagers, peasants, and lesser lords indulged in the Twelfthtide feasts Seren procured in Henry’s long absence before he returned to die. She attributed it to David. The scent of roast meat drifted into the bailey. Fires were lit. Song swelled. Laughter spilled from the garrison and market road. But Thornwyck Keep did not feast.

Inside the great hall, no tapestries hung. No wine was poured. Seren wore black with a silver brooch at her throat. David did as well. He sat in the seat of honor, signifying his inherited authority. Though every contender had tested David, no one had contested his place, showing the prestige his mother had earned for Marcher Lord of Mortlande, the reverence of her prayer that took Henry’s life and established her son as fit to rule by God’s own judgment, and David’s well-prepared responses to each test.

A candle for Henry burned at the high table, and all who passed paid it the respect due to a noble death—even if none mourned him.

Seren sat in her usual seat, veiled and dignified, receivingthe quickly rotating guests like a queen, while her mind circled all the possibilities her life could take. If she could choose, she would choose Erik, but customs never afforded noblewomen such a luxury, and David was still a young lord, still having so much to prove.

So she tried her best to not want Erik, again. It would hurt too much to be denied him after so many years. She’d known her future as a young girl. She’d prepared herself for every moment of her life as a lord’s wife, except falling in love with someone she could never be with.

Servants had moved Erik from the council chamber to the lord’s guest chamber, where Erik had called his room for so long. He was alive—healing, still weak.

She had not yet seen him since the morning she’d pressed her lips to his. It was torture and ache, knowing it would likely never happen again. She again tried to push it from her mind beneath a polite smile and familiar meek words, but Erik kept resurfacing in her thoughts.

The keep eventually slipped into sleep and passed into wine-lulled silence. David yawned, tired of the constant testing, after the last guest left the hall.

“I shall retire,” David said. “You should too.”

Seren agreed, and they climbed the steps to the top floor. But rather than enter the lord’s chambers, David walked to the guest chamber. Its door was open.

Ragnar sat inside.

Margot and Isolde, along with David’s guards and steward, followed.

Ragnar rose and allowed David to sit in the only place of honor in the room.

“Mother, would you pray for him?” David asked, settled in the simple chair by the bed.

Seren kneeled beside Erik and placed her hands on his arm, but did not dare to hold his hand with so many observers.

She bowed her head and paused.

The truth set in. She was not favored. She’d only twisted her words to ensure it looked like she was—even Henry andDavid and Erik believed it. She’d tricked them all, and it hurt her heart. There was no reason to continue the facade—no one’s life to spare or favor to gain. She only hoped the Lord listened and asked the Lord for a blessing.

“May the Lord preserve the breath in your lungs and the strength in your bones. May He judge you not for the path you walked, but for the lives you spared and the mercy you showed when power begged cruelty. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen.”

Her fingers trembled where they touched his arm. She withdrew them, folding them into the blanket.

Ragnar bowed his head slightly, honoring the prayer. David remained still, watching Erik with the quiet yearning of a boy uncertain whether to reach forward or remain distant.

“Has he spoken?” Seren asked Ragnar softly.

“Not since yesterday. He can speak full words now, though. Took broth at dawn. Woke once for water, but only looked for . . . his Valkyrie,” Ragnar said low, glancing to the audience they had.

The words hit harder than she expected, and she hoped no one else knew she was the Valkyrie.

“I wanted to visit him in daylight,” David said. “With you here. I want the others to see . . . that our family and I stand with him and are indebted for saving your life, Mother.”

She nodded once. David was wise. Her presence with Erik was a noblewoman’s duty of care with witnesses, so no one could say it was improper. Her son was going to be a good lord.

Erik stirred—a flicker of muscle across his brow, a faint shift of his jaw.