Page 149 of The Thornwyck Rose

“You all forget,” Robert said, dismissively, “I have land on the Eastern shore and in Normandy. My resources are vast.”

“Same as your father,” Erik said. “There is no difference to us.”

The other lords silently wagered whether Robert would walk out, sit down, or speak an argument. He had paraded into their community of power like God himself. Though tensions existed among them, Robert had made it easy to know which one was liked least or perhaps even hated most.

A few of the other lords shifted, their silence turning from passive to wary. Robert’s reputation had always preceded him—ruthless, pitiless, and loyal to no one but himself.

Robert sneered again and pointed at David. “I hope your snark is not snuffed out before you grow hair on your chest.” With that, he turned and left the council room, throwing the door open.

David gestured to his steward. “Ensure Lord Robert is sent with our best, as he will not be welcome at Thornwyck again.”

The room seemed to breathe a little easier with one less lord in attendance.

One by one, each baron and lord left the room with no favors to barter, each with a debt owed to David’s father, and David collected until only Lord Richard of Wellenford and Erik remained.

Of all the men who came, Lord Richard would be the one to benefit the most from Seren’s marriage. His land bordered the Northern chiefdoms, and they had not been kind to Wellenford, while Mortlande remained untouched since Seren’s arrival. The strategic answer was to give her to Lord Richard since David, Madoc’s accepted grandson, sat as Marcher Lord of Mortlande, ensuring peace there.

But strategic advantage or not, Erik wasn’t just going to hand her over.

The three men sat comfortably at David’s table with Father Osbert in a chair by the window, recording the debts and payments.

But it was then that Lord Richard grew teeth. “Lord David, it is an insult to be at a table with a baron. I am a Marcher Lord. I have the first right to your mother’s hand.” He shot a glare at Erik.

Erik said nothing, but his jaw ticked. The old blood stirred—the part of him that once answered arrogance with steel. He exhaled slowly, anchoring himself as Lord Richard spat.

“You know nothing of our ways, pagan.”

David interjected. “Now, Lord Richard, Lord Erik was baptized into the church upon acceptance of his land and title. He is no longer a pagan, but our brother in Christ the Lord.”

Richard chuckled as he ran his gaze down to Erik’s ungloved hands. “What makes you think, then, Lord Erik, a faithful and righteous woman such as Lady Seren, would want to look upon your pagan stains for the rest of her life? It is unfortunate you cannot remove the reminders of your former ways.”

Erik curled his fingers into a fist. “Are you afraid of a Norse warrior, Lord Richard?”

Richard’s eyes lifted to meet Erik’s gaze.

“These hands protected and bled for her family.” Erik studied his fists. “Perhaps when she looks upon my stains, she’ll see that man.”

Richard opened his mouth to protest, but David interjected.

“Let us go back to advantage, lords. Personal attacks are beneath us. Lord Robert did enough of that already.”

Both men chuckled and agreed.

David flicked a glance toward Erik, then to the banner hanging behind Lord Richard, as if measuring every move before he made it. Then he gestured to Lord Richard to continue first.

“Lady Dowager’s presence in Wellenford would greatly decrease the raids from the Welsh Marches, as I am sure you are both well aware,” Richard said. “As it seems, the Welsh chieftains accepted you as Marcher Lord, leaving Thornwyck unscathed after your father’s retreat.”

Erik folded his hands in front of his chest. “Yes, but Lady Dowager in Fellmere helps both Mortlande and Wellenford. Surely you remember the blood baths that swept those fields.”

Richard leaned toward David at the table. “I want peace for all of Wellenford, not just Fellmere.”

David remained silent, reclining slightly, thumb tracing the rim of his goblet in thought. Lord Richard was the logical choice. Everyone knew it.

“Lord David,” Richard pleaded, “our families have been allies for a long time. Your mother’s marriage to me would further that alliance.”

“Are you threatening our alliance, Lord Richard?” David asked.

Richard straightened. “Not at all, Lord David. But I will be saving your mother from the very man who did whatever Lord Henry ordered, including the will to execute a fellow guard for nothing worth death. I was here and witnessed such acts. Is that who you want your mother to be with?”