Page 71 of The Thornwyck Rose

Henry paused, peering up at the thirteen-year-old giant of a boy.

Seren lifted her hand, palm down.

“No, Ragnar,” Erik muttered, taking a small step forward, and wishing for his armor.

“Seems this boy needs a good reminder of his place. Cut his heels. Perhaps he will learn when he does not get to stand,” Henry ordered.

Before the guards could respond, Erik moved. There was only one action he could take that might save his son’s life and maybe Seren’s. He acted so she wouldn’t.

There was no choice. Not when Henry smiled like that.

Odin, forgive me. Forgive me, Astrid. Forgive me, Seren. Forgive me, son.

He was at Ragnar’s back with the blade from his boot drawn, with its steel against his son’s throat.

Ragnar didn’t flinch, trusting his father completely.

Seren had come forward. Erik wished she had stayed back, but she loved Ragnar as her own. How would he expect her to stay still at such a command?

If David had been ten years older, he would have gone for Henry’s throat, with no hesitation in slicing it.

Henry laughed. "Going to kill your own blood, pagan?”

“The deal was clear,” Erik said, deep and raw. “Be good to my son, and I’ll be good to you.”

The scrape of chairs and the boot clicks on the floor meanthe was being surrounded. He wanted to look at Seren, give her his goodbye, but he wasn’t going to endanger her even more.

Erik’s focus was on Henry. “I’d rather kill him clean and send him to your Heaven—or to Helheim with his mother—than let him live maimed in your attic. And when he’s dead, I’ll come for you.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed as he stood, but Erik was still taller, though Henry was on his dais. “Is that a threat, dog?”

“It is a promise.”

Henry bared his teeth and gestured to all the guards. “You think you’ll be able to touch me?”

Erik didn’t blink. “You needed fifteen men to die and eight more to hold me down when you conquered me. You made me stronger, Lord Henry. Would you lose thirty men this time?"

Henry scoffed, though he took a small step backward. “A dog bite is rarely fatal.”

“Would you like to test it?” Erik taunted.

Henry released a hot breath through clenched teeth. Then he casually reached back and grabbed Seren by the nape. She muffled a whimper as he squeezed and brought her closer.

Erik’s stomach turned to stone. He did not blink. He did not breathe.

Every muscle in his body screamed to act, but acting would get her killed and one wrong move meant no future for any of them.

He could already see the bruise Henry would leave on her neck.

David screamed and lunged with two small fists toward Henry, but Henry shoved him down.

Erik held Ragnar back with a firm hold across his son’s chest, moving the blade so as not to nick him.

Ragnar’s muscles were shaking. Erik knew what the boy would do if he let go. He also knew he couldn’t afford to.

“I know you care for my wife,” Henry said to Erik.

“I learned a long time ago not to care for any of your wives,” Erik retorted and wondered how long until Henryordered Geoffrey to strike him down and return the Commander rank to the noble’s second son.