Page 93 of The Thornwyck Rose

Red crosses. Circles. The line of march bled toward the chieftains like a scab about to be pried off skin. Knights weresummoned under the guise of training and tournaments. Messengers arrived at dusk and rode out before dawn. Letters were sealed in black wax. Tributes were sent south under heavy guard. The air around Thornwyck had grown thick with apprehension, but the truth had a sound.

And Seren had heard it too, or if she hadn’t, she was clever enough to have figured it out.

So Seren did not comply when Henry stood before her, flushed with wine and the fever of conquest, and demanded her divine blessing on the eve of their departure and before his private court.

Erik stood at the back of the hall, silent, along with Geoffrey and Jovin. Father Osbert sat in his corner, watching and rubbing the beads of his knotted prayer rope.

“I will not bless a conquest that slaughters my kin,” Seren said. “My people bowed their heads so I might come here and keep them alive. If our daughters were married and their husbands attacked Mortlande, would she pray for her husband’s victory, or would you want her to stand foryou, her father?”

Henry stilled. His goblet tipped. Wine spilled down his hand.

Realization flickered behind his eyes.

Then came the maddening shift that was too frequent in these last few years. His nostrils flared.

“My daughters,” he muttered, as if tasting the words, “are liabilities.”

Erik’s stomach twisted.

Seren stepped forward, her voice urgent, trying to undo the idea she’d placed in his head. Erik knew the feeling all too well.

“My lord husband?—”

But the lord’s order cracked like a whip: “To the nursery. Now.”

Steel flashed in the corridor.

Father Osbert stood and glared at Henry, but Henry sneered at the gray-haired man.

The great hall guards snapped to attention, and three of them hurried toward the east wing.

Seren and Tomas shared a glance, a second too long, as Tomas marched toward the nursery with two others.

Henry paced, muttering, then turned when the guards returned empty-handed.

“Your daughters weren’t there,” Tomas said. “Neither were the nurses.”

Erik hoped they had hidden in the secret passage.

Henry wheeled to Seren, his eyes bloodshot and boiling.

“Where are they?” he growled.

“I don’t know,” Seren’s reply came with a forced meekness, only known to Erik.

Henry’s hand shot forward, seizing her jaw.

Erik moved half a step before catching himself. He’d only heard Henry’s wrath through the walls, but he hadn’t seen it since the day Jovin had lied and nearly had them both killed for false infidelity.

Henry squeezed until blood lined her mouth.

“Pray to God for victory, wife,” he gritted.

Seren kept her hands by her sides, fingers twitching but refusing to curl.

Henry shook her hard. “Obey me, Seren.” He spat her name like a plague.

“I will not go against my father,” she muttered through his iron grip.