Page 147 of The Thornwyck Rose
David nodded. “Nest is married elsewhere now. So they say.” Then to his mother: “But if he already has Welsh children, then maybe he doesn’t need you as much as King William Rufus did.”
“Yet—” Ragnar gestured to the scroll. “The new king mentions nothing of you, Lady Dowager.”
“A dangerous silence,” Father Osbert murmured.
Seren’s gaze lingered on the flames. “What does it mean?”
“That Henry wants to keep his options open,” Erik said quietly. “He has no reason to make promises to a woman tied to his brother’s name. But you’re useful still. A match to calm the Marcher Lords. A peace offering, if needed.”
“Or a reminder,” David added, “that she can be claimed at any time. An example of his power.”
They all looked to her then.
Seren’s jaw had tightened. She looked like a queen carved in stone.
“Then we move forward as usual,” she said. “I won’t live as a shadow in my own life.”
Erik nodded once. “Then we finish the plans for the Marcher alliances as if the king will take someone else as his wife soon.”
David’s brow furrowed. “You think he will?”
“I think he’ll do what serves him best. And if we’re ready, then it won’t matter.”
Father Osbert folded his hands. “And if he doesn’t let her go?”
Erik’s voice wavered at the thought. He locked eyes with Seren. “Then we endure like we always have.”
Silence followed. They were sitting in the eye of life’s storm, waiting for the next strike. The wind stirred the banners on the towers as if testing the strength of the keep’s leaders.
Erik’s eyes never left Seren’s, telling her through his gaze that she would endure with the strength he knew she had or would find. In the meantime, he would keep building, keep waiting, and keep believing that one day, she would be his.
All he had left was hope.
L
THE LAST CLAIM
THORNWYCK KEEP, DECEMBER 1100
News came four weeks earlier:King Henry had chosen a queen—and it wasn’t Seren. Instead, he wed the young Scottish princess, forging another strategic alliance. And with that news, the lords descended on Thornwyck like wolves to a kill, eager to stake their claims and wed before Twelfthtide.
Within the first week of December, four Marcher Lords stayed in Thornwyck Keep:
Lord Richard de Grafton of Wellenford;
Lord Hugh d’Avranches of Chester;
and Lord Robert de Bellême of Shrewsbury;
Lord Henry de Beaumont of Warwick, a baron of Hereford and one of Stafford, also sat in the council room with Erik, David, and Father Osbert.
Erik peered over his wine goblet at the men, most of whom were older than the late Lord de Thornwyck.
Each lord had presented their so-called claim for Seren; Lord Robert had requested to go last before Erik could speak his wish to also go last, so he could counter any argument presented.
They all had spoken and now waited for Robert to speak.
Out of all the lords there, Erik hoped Robert would not gain Seren’s hand. He’d come from his land in Normandyand succeeded his late younger brother as Marcher Lord two years prior, and already, he was known for his cruelty and persecution of the church. God had no place in his home. Erik only imagined the horrors Seren would endure by his side.
