Page 37 of The Thornwyck Rose

The guard—young, loyal, afraid—was going to die.

Baldwin stiffened, still holding Ragnar’s arm. Father Osbert’s brows drew in. Even the others in the hall looked uneasy.

This wasn’t just punishment. This was a theater just as Seren had assumed.

Erik unsheathed the blade and took two steps toward the young guard, flipping the dagger in his hand to a kill strike.

The room stopped breathing.

No one was going to say anything, so Seren did, and again, she used the Lord as her shield.

Seren’s voice broke through the quiet.

“My lord.”

Henry turned with eyes ablaze.

Erik stopped in his deadly path.

Seren stepped forward, every step deliberate. Her slippered feet were silent on the stone as her doe’s voice opposed the arrogance in Henry’s. “Perhaps blood is not the lesson Thornwyck Keep needs tonight.”

Henry stared at her. The room stared at her. Father Osbert shared a glance with Bishop Thurstan.

Women were to be silent, but she had a reputation for being favored by the divine, and she hoped it carried her well.

She kept her voice calm, reverent, meek. She bowed her head as a good wife would do.

“The guard’s hesitation was wrong. Would not Christ offer mercy to those who falter?”

She moved closer to Lord Henry. “Would not a pious lord, as you are, choose grace, as God does for us all?”

Father Osbert looked up and met Henry’s gaze without a word. So did Lord Richard and Bishop Thurstan.

Henry said nothing.

So she pushed further.

Her gaze didn’t flinch. “Let your justice be righteous, not wrathful, my lord, as is our God’s. That would make you not only feared—but also revered in the land. A legend of your power and your piety.”

Henry’s jaw grew taut, and she heard the slightest growl from his throat. She couldn’t embarrass him or take away his power if she were to save a life and save Erik from becoming less in his son’s eyes.

“My lord, command your guard to repent of his disrespect. You have the power over every life in your land. The men and women of Thornwyck already fear your wrath. We honor it.”

She looked directly into Henry’s eyes. “Show them, now, the greater strength to grant mercy like Christ our Lord.”

His jaw twitched before allowing a cruel, controlled smile in the silence of Bishop Thurstan, Lord Richard, and Father Osbert, signaling their staunch agreement with Seren. Even Bishop Thurstan glanced heavenward before furrowing his brow and giving a short nod as his only response.

Henry couldn’t kill her now unless he found a way to prove she was a traitor or unfaithful. She was neither.

That was why he hated her, perhaps, even feared her, but fearful men could become desperate, and desperate men were never predictable.

Henry turned to the young guard.

“You are saved by your lady’s mercy,” he said. “Repent it. Now.”

The guard immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I repent of disrespecting my lord. Have mercy, Lord Henry.” His breath shook, and his shoulders trembled.

“Good,” Henry said coldly. “Then rise. And remember who keeps you breathing.”