Page 39 of The Thornwyck Rose

Erik squeezed Tomas’s shoulder. “In Lord Henry’s eyes, you did. She knew what I was going to do; our lady saved your life.”

He let the words fall and take root.

Tomas shuffled. “Then… perhaps I am indebted to her.”

Erik had not expected gratitude to taste so bitter. “You are. She saw what I would have done and stopped it. She saved your life—and my honor in my son’s eyes with it.”

His jaw tightened. “Do not mistake her mercy for weakness,” he told Tomas. “She is a warrior. Smarter than any of us. And I fear what stripes her grace will earn her.”

Tomas shuffled, looking away. He was quiet for a moment.

“Thank you, Commander,” Tomas finally murmured and slipped out of the hall, leaving Erik alone in the hollowed silence. The remaining guards glanced at him. He’d lost the respect earned from years of battle. That’s precisely what Lord Henry wanted: to reduce him to a pawn, again.

Whatever luxury he had in slightly bending Lord Henry’s law and having no one speak of it was likely gone. He had turned on one of his men in an instant at a single order for the sake of his Norse son.

They didn’t care why. They only knew what they saw—a disloyal commander, a two-faced leader.

Still, he wasn’t going to tuck tail like a dog; he met their gazes until they turned away.

He ascended to his room, but stopped short when he reached the corridor that led to Henry’s chambers.

Two guards stood outside the heavy oak doors—Henry’s personal men, armed and grim.

From within, Erik heard the sound of stifled pain, then breaking through:

A thud, and Henry’s voice. “Do you think anyone here would save you?”

Another thud. “Get up,wife.” A harshly spoken command.

And another. “Get up!”

Erik’s vision narrowed on the door. His fingers clenched. He placed a firm hand on the stone wall of the stairs and did what he had to: controlled the animal inside.

One guard met his gaze and gave an upward glance to the attic.

The other guard—a younger man with pity in his eyes—nodded toward the upper stair. “He’s with Baldwin,” he mouthed.

Erik’s breath came hard through his teeth before he went to comfort his son without Lord Henry’s permission, and hoped the guards weren’t testing him at Henry’s order.

But after the day’s events, he needed to console his son.

The attic was cramped,the air heavy with dust and lamplight. Baldwin let him in, and to Erik’s surprise, came into Ragnar’s room with him.

Baldwin crouched beside Ragnar’s cot, his broad shoulders blocking most of the glow.

Ragnar’s small hand clutched the dried kingcup.

The boy’s eyes were wet and red-rimmed. “She knew, didn’t she?” he said. “She knew what he’d make you do.”

Erik sat beside him, gathering him close, pulling him into his lap, cradling him like the baby he no longer was. He glanced at Baldwin, wondering where hisloyalties were.

“She knew,” Erik whispered to Ragnar.

Baldwin nodded.

“If he ever commands you to kill Lady Seren,” Ragnar said as he cradled the dried kingcup in his hand, “I’ll endure pain first. I’ll die first. I’ll not let you kill her. I’m almost a man. I’ll take the pain to save her life.”

Erik’s throat burned at the brittle courage of a nine-year-old that sharpened his son’s voice. He’d had to kill a wife before, the very wife he’d tried to save and lost Astrid for. He did it to save his son, but Ragnar was too young to remember. Seren must have told him.