Page 72 of The Thornwyck Rose

“Is that so?” Henry’s eyes gleamed, and he turned to Seren. “Did you know the Norseman you can’t stop glancing at lied for my first wife? Lost his beloved for it. And to save his whelp, he carried my order of execution against the very woman he tried to protect.”

Seren kept a straight face. “It does not matter, as I do not care for him. My eyes are only for you, my lord husband.”

He forced her down to her knees.

Henry sneered at Seren. “But the whelp cares for you, doesn’t he?”

Ragnar trembled beneath his father’s grip, and Erik hoped Ragnar kept his mouth shut and did not tell how much either of them truly cared for Seren.

“My son cares for David alone,” Erik said with a voice of steel.

He heard the weapons unsheathed behind him. Seren’s eyes misted as she looked at David, Ragnar, and Erik.

An idea came to him.

“Lord Henry, I thought you were a better visionary. Why would you take a strong, smart boy like mine and maim him when you could teach him to be a part of your host and station him as your son’s personal guard? You want loyalty, not by leverage? My son’s loyalty to your son is rooted in love and friendship. There would be no greater Commander of the Guard for your son and your legacy.”

Henry shook Seren hard, enough to cause her to wince, as he spoke.

“But he doesn’t obey or respectme.” Henry gauged Ragnar’s hard breathing and body tremors from rage at Seren’s pain. “And I have no use for such disobedience.”

He yanked Seren back and exposed her neck.

“Then teach him to obey alongside your son,” Erik made one last barter, hoping to keep Seren from pain. If Seren, Ragnar, and he died, David was still too young. He’d grow up just as wretched as his father.

“They are both boys,” Erik continued as Henry paused to consider. “I’ve not been allowed to teach my son.”

Henry’s head tilted, the corner of his mouth twisting. Erik saw it too late—the cruel spark of inspiration.

“Then we shall have our first lesson,” Henry said. “You are to stay silent and be still,” he ordered both Ragnar and David.

The slap cracked across Seren’s cheek like breaking bone.

Erik’s grip on Ragnar never loosened, even as David screamed wrapped himself around Ragnar’s leg.

Ragnar’s breath blew hot against Erik’s forearm. Erik’s jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached.

It was his words that had given Henry the idea. His bargain, his reason, his careful strategy meant to save them had instead invited a beating for Seren. He had offered obedience as a lesson, and Henry had taken it in the most literal, monstrous way.

Erik had done this. He had handed the demon the switch and called it wisdom.

Erik told Ragnar and David, trying to keep the rage out of his voice. “Obey.”

Henry struck her again.

Ragnar tensed again, ready to lunge.

“Stay still,” Erik said with the edge of desperation on his command.

Blood ran from her lip and nose.

Even Bertrand shifted in his seat, blinking too many times.

Erik tried with David, but he was only five years old. His arms were tied—one held his son, the other, the blade. He could do nothing but try to teach him with words.

“Silent, Lord David.”

The words came out low and steady, but they were knives in his mouth. Every syllable was a betrayal. He was commanding two children to watch what he himself had caused.