Page 73 of The Thornwyck Rose

But David kept screaming.

Henry struck her again, and Erik’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Obey.”

The word shook with fury and shame.

Erik wanted to scream, too. To throw Ragnar behind him and end Henry now. But David was too young. With both he and Henry dead, the borders would collapse. The victors would overrun the keep and take what they wanted from the women and children.

So he could do nothing—only hold his trembling son and let the woman who carried their light bleed.

Another blow landed. Erik flinched. Rage climbed up his throat like fire, but guilt choked it back down.

He hoped Seren wouldn’t look at him. He begged his gods for her not to look at him. He couldn’t bear it.

But she did.

And when their eyes met, there was forgiveness and understanding.

That was worse than any hit he’d ever taken because he stood helpless to do anything to help her if he wanted them all to live.

He learned another lesson that day in his decade-long survival under Henry’s reign: reason did not outmaneuver evil.

Henry hit Seren so hard that he lost his grip, and she went down on both hands.

She locked eyes with David. “Listen to your father.” Her voice was clipped.

David stopped screaming.

“If you disobey him, he will hurt me,” Seren said, out of breath.

Henry grabbed her and hit her one last time.

David remained silent.

Ragnar’s shoulders trembled beneath Erik’s grip, but he, too, remained silent and still.

Erik had no guarantee about Ragnar’s future from Henry, so he kept the blade against his son’s throat. It was the only leash he had on their lives, betting that he was more valuable than Geoffrey in Henry’s eyes and worth the barter to keep living.

Tears streamed down David’s cheeks.

Henry smiled and let go of Seren. Blood dripped from her nose and fell between her fingers, spread wide on the ground.

Astrid came to the forefront of Erik’s memory. Seren would not end like Astrid or any of the other wives. She would live because she and the children were the only pure of heart there. They deserved life.

Odin—or the God Seren prayed to—had to see that and understand that truth.

David rushed to her side and threw his arms around her neck, but Henry yanked him away.

“My son,” Henry said, pointing at Seren, “Women are nothing.”

Erik bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood.

Women were nothing? The woman Henry just threw to the floor had more strength in her silence than Henry had ever wielded in power.

She was everything. And Erik had to act like she was nothing.

“As these two dogs here are nothing.” Henry’s finger turned to Erik and Ragnar. “They are to be used and discarded. The Norseman is just lucky I haven’t found a better Commander yet.”