Page 14 of The Thornwyck Rose

But not everyone laughed.

Henry eyed Seren over the goblet’s silver rim.

“And let Lady de Thornwyck travel and attend the body,” he added. “Let her see it buried. Let them know she prayed for their thief, and Heaven answered.”

He let the words hang, then smiled thinly.

“Since the Lord seems to favor her prayers, let her explain to the girl’s mother why God struck her child dead.”

The implication was clear. If the villagers whispered, if rumors spread, it would be her name—her presence—attached to the child’s death. It would be a simple reason to get rid of her when the time came.

Henry’s gaze flicked to the Commander, who stood like a shadow against the stone wall.

“Commander of the Guard,” Henry said smoothly. “You will accompany milady and see that she and my child are safe and all is done . . .properly.” There was an emphasis on that last word with a pointed look that Seren caught in her glance, but acted as if she hadn’t noticed.

Another wave of quiet murmurs broke over the nobles.

Seren kept her head bowed, hands tightening over her stomach. Inside, her pulse thudded like a drum.

“Yes, my lord,” she murmured, echoing the Commander.

Henry sat and leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “Good,” he said. “I am blessed indeed—a wife whose prayers move Heaven, and a commander whose sword keeps order . . . and obedience.”

He lifted his cup again, and the hall echoed with another round of forced applause.

Commander de Montfort met her eyes at last. There was something there.

Respect. And concern.

Because now, the game had begun, and maybe Lord Henry had met his match.

VII

THE LAID ROSE

MORTLANDE VILLAGE, DECEMBER 1085

The Mortlande villagelay hushed beneath a blanket of early morning mist. The sun had not yet gathered courage to break through the gray veil, and all was still—except for the slow procession of hoofbeats and wheels.

Payen rode just behind the cart that bore the girl’s body, flanked by two guards and Lady de Thornwyck. Both of her handmaids, several knights, and Father Osbert also accompanied them. Seren rode side saddle with her spine straight, her hands folded, the reins at her lap, her eyes fixed on the unmoving shape wrapped in cloth beside her.

It was the first time he had seen her outside the castle walls as a married woman. He remembered her long, loose black locks flowing in the summer breeze; now that beauty lay hidden, braided under a veil, not for his eyes, but wasted on Lord Henry.

The townsfolk emerged slowly, first with wary lines etched into their brows. Murmurs rippled from cottage to market to chapel steps. What a sight it would have been for a villager to see the beautiful, dark-featured noblewoman descending from the ruthless lord’s keep on horseback.

Payen put his body in front of hers as they rode into the main square. He was not sure what word had reachedthe village, unsure of how they would react to the lady’s appearance.

He ordered his host to make a perimeter around Father Osbert, Lady de Thornwyck, and her handmaids, and then dismounted. Payen alone was the only man to touch Seren, and only with a gloved hand, per Lord Henry’s orders. She took his hand to dismount from her horse, a white mare. Her fine, deep blue wool stood out amongst the brown and dirty linens of the scrawny villagers. Even the handmaids’ crimson, plain dresses seemed regal in comparison.

Seren walked between the guard’s shoulders to meet the people face-to-face. Payen kept up with her, her handmaids trailing behind. Father Osbert was still dismounting. The villagers stepped back. Their mouths were ajar.

“What is it?” a villager asked. His mouth was missing too many teeth. He bowed his head to Payen and then to Seren. Clearly, the villager was not familiar with court etiquette.

“Why are you . . . What brings your presence . . . Lady de Thornwyck?” the villager asked, still visibly in shock. “No lady has ever visited us here before.”

“Never?” she asked.

They all shook their heads.