Page 33 of The Thornwyck Rose

He emphasized what Henry wanted to hear.

“I was loyal to your command. We did not sniff flowers. The conversation went like this: She told me kingcups were her favorite flower. I told her they were Astrid’s favorite flower. Then I told her we needed to return to the keep. She obliged.”

Henry rubbed the hilt of his dagger against the stubble on his jaw.

“No,” he shook his head. “You lie to me.”

“I do not lie,” Erik said, looking straight ahead.

“Did you know my wife was with your child in the chapel, that she had gone to the attic?” Henry snarled.

Erik toed the line with the truth, knowing too much would get them all killed and too little would likely end the same way. “Ragnar told me that Lady de Thornwyck came to the attic. Perhaps she heard rustling above her room and went to see what it was. His room is directly over her chamber, and she has a soft heart for children. Her past prayers have shown that.”

The dagger stopped its tapping. Henry watched him, studying the stillness in his face, the absence of fear. “You think I’m a fool,” he said softly.

“I think you are a man who sees all,” Erik replied. “And so you know I would not dare look twice at your wife, nor she at me. Nor would I ask her to mother my son.”

Henry’s mouth twitched. “‘Would not dare.’ But perhapsshe dares. Perhaps she’s tired of piety and wants something more . . . Norseman.”

Erik wasn’t going to indulge the implicit accusation.

In Erik’s silence, Henry grabbed the dagger again, twirling it lazily between his fingers. “My mother once took a stable boy to her bed while my father was away at war. They said it was love.” His smile could curdle blood. “My father said it was treason. He made me watch them bleed and scream until God threw their sinful souls to the fires of Gehenna.”

Henry’s gaze turned inward. “I was young and stupid, thinking my mother deserved mercy. But my father gave me discernment. Made me see through the rot of so-called love and a woman’s loyalty.”

He grabbed another nearby goblet.

“Everyone lies, Commander, unless you put enough fear in them to speak truth, thinking it will save what they most treasure, whether it’s their life or . . . ”

His statement faded to nothing before he took a long sip. He grabbed the hilt of the dagger before plunging into the table.

The blade’s tip struck with a sharpthunk.

“Don’t speak to me in lies,Payen! I see it all.” Henry’s voice dropped. His lip curled. “So . . . Does my wife long for another man?”

The words were a knife pressed to Erik’s throat. He let the silence stretch before replying. “She seeks your favor, not my company. I am nothing in her eyes. Were you not satisfied with the tests and reports of your wife’s loyalty and support of your lordship?”

Henry rose too fast, the chair scraping the floor. “You defend her too quickly.”

Erik met Henry’s eyes, calm, meeting the storm. “You asked for truth, my lord. That is all I offer.” It was time to bring up Henry’s upper hand. “You hold my son’s life in exchange for my obedience. Why would I lie? I’ve already lost my wife in making such a mistake. I’d give my life for my son’s, you know this. You’ve put enough fear in me for onlythe truth to come through my lips. I only hope my obedient victories and my honesty are worth the life of my son.”

For a long time, Henry stared at him. Then he smiled a slow, crooked, false smile.

“Soft hearts, Commander,” he said with red-streaked eyes. “They bleed easily. See that yours does not, or I’ll rip your son’s from his chest.”

He turned his face away, reaching for the wine jug to refill his goblet. The dismissal was implied and clear.

Erik bowed in a stiff motion and left the council chamber.

Outside the door, the guards exhaled like men who had forgotten how.

Erik ascended the stairs in silence, his boots scuffing against the stone. When he reached the upper corridor, he stopped by the small, uneven door that led to the attic. He wanted to see Ragnar. It had been too long, but in the state Henry was in, he couldn’t chance it. Not without Henry’s permission.

He walked the corridor to his room beside the lord’s chambers.

He opened it quietly, but heard murmurs behind him. He turned. Seren came from the garderobe at the other end of the corridor, dressed in dark robes, with bare feet, a bruise on her cheek and eye, and a split lip—likely taking the brunt of Henry’s paranoid rage about their time in the garden and her time with Ragnar.

They locked eyes. Isolde muttered something behind her. Margot gently took her arm.