WinterofThorns Read online

  Seyzon felt the censure of those words though they were spoken without inflection. The look his Overlord gave him was like a whiplash laid across his back. He bowed his head. “I am at your command, Your Grace,” he said quietly.

  “Aye, you are,” the prince stated. He turned and headed for the doorway that led into the sacristy, Seyzon falling into step behind him.

  Jana turned a frightened face to her brother.

  “He asked for this,” Alden told her, his gaze not on her but on Joseph.

  “And will pay the price, I fear,” Joseph agreed.

  “What price?” Jana questioned.

  The chapel was so silent, so still, those gathered barely heard her soft voice.

  “He did not tell you?” Joseph asked.

  “Tell me what?” Her hands shook so badly that she had to clasp them together at her waist.

  “What happened to the last man who disregarded the prince’s edict on garnering his permission to Join,” Alden answered for his new friend and ally.

  “Alden?” Jana asked through quivering lips.

  “He was lashed, sister,” Alden said. “Three lashes for every day since the fool first asked the woman to be his bride without the prince’s consent.”

  Jana’s eyes flared. “Three lashes per…” She staggered. “That’s forty-five lashes!”

  “Aye, but the man lashed was not Prince Vindan’s Adjutant General and he didn’t marry the wench,” Joseph said. “Forty-five lashes might well be a drop in the bucket for Seyzon.”

  “Or the punishment could be much worse,” Alden said. “We warned him. Joseph and I both, but he would not listen. Now, he must suffer the consequences.”

  “Alden, you must do something!” Jana reached out to grab his arm. “Please!”

  “Do what, sister?” Alden asked. “I cannot intervene.” He held up his hand. “Before you ask, neither can Joseph.”

  Fear had leached the color from Jana’s face and turned her lips white. She turned her head toward the sacristy door that had closed behind her husband. Try as she might, she could not force her psychic senses past the portal to hear what was being said. Like all those who were mutely waiting behind her, all she could do was rivet her attention on the thick, raised-panel door.

  His back to Seyzon, Prince Vindan Brell ran his fingertips over the sacristy cretins, the cabinet with shallow drawers in which the priestly vestments and religious hangings were stored. A chasuble lay atop the rich mahogany cabinet. He moved his palm onto the garment, the fabric catching against the heavy calluses of his sword hand.

  Seyzon knew better than to open his mouth. He stood near the door with his spine ramrod straight, shoulders back, chin up with his hands clasped tightly behind him in parade rest. Only his eyes moved—tracking the prince’s progress across the room. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest and the healing wound in his side was throbbing to the rush of his blood. His headache was getting worse and the sour taste in his mouth did not bode well.

  “Do you have any idea how angry I am with you at this moment, Seyzon?” the prince asked. When Seyzon would have answered, Prince Vindan held up his hand. “A rhetorical question, my friend. No need to answer.”

  Fingering the heavy brocade of the chasuble, the prince gazed down at it for quite some time—tracing with his eyes the intricate swirls of the pattern. At last he sighed and turned to face Seyzon. He cocked his head to one side.

  “When did you meet the Lady Jana?”

  Seyzon cleared his throat—giving his Overlord time to motion him to answer. “Three weeks ago, Your Grace.”

  Prince Vindan nodded. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded Seyzon steadily. “And when did you ask her to be your bride?”

  “Fifteen days past,” Seyzon replied.

  A dark brow lifted. “Did no one counsel you against asking her to Join with you without my permission?”

  “They did.” Seyzon’s palms were slick with sweat as he tightened his grip behind him.

  “They,” the prince repeated. “I assume Joseph warned you against it. Who else?”

  “Milady’s brother.”

  “Ah, Lord Alden. By all accounts a very loyal subject though my guess is he’d turn on a copper if it meant saving his heritage.” The prince narrowed his eyes. “Do you agree with that assessment?”

  “Aye, Your Grace,” Seyzon replied. “I do.”

  “Why did you not come to me to ask for my blessing, Seyzon?”

  Seyzon began to feel lightheaded. He feared he knew what was coming and wasn’t sure in his present condition he could survive it.

  “Answer me,” the prince said in a pleasantly quiet tone.

  “Her brother did not want us to Join,” Seyzon responded.

  “Why not? Was there another man he wished for her marry?”

  Seyzon shook his head. “No, Your Grace.”

  “Then I assume it was because he did not feel you worthy of her hand. Does the warrior dislike you? Distrust you?”

  “It wasn’t that, either, Your Grace,” Seyzon said.

  “What other reason could he have had then?” the prince questioned, but before Seyzon could answer he held up a belaying hand. “Wait, let me guess Lord Alden’s reason. Mayhap he feared reprisal if you went behind my back and did what you fucking knew I was not going to like!”

  The last words were shouted at him with so much anger and acid spite Seyzon staggered back.

  “Your Grace—”

  “Shut your fucking mouth, Montyne!” the prince bellowed. “You knew better. You of all people knew what you were doing was prohibited!” He stormed across the room and reached out to brutally grip Seyzon’s chin. “You fucking knew better! How dare you, Seyzon. How dare you go against me this way?”

  Flinching when his chin was released, Seyzon drew his brows together in an attempt to convey his regret. “I am sorry, Your Grace. I…”

  “Get the hell out of my sight,” the prince cut him off.

  Seyzon hesitated. He wanted to have a chance to explain to his boyhood friend why he had disobeyed.

  “That was not a request made by a friend, Montyne,” the prince told him with narrowed eyes. “That was an order given by your Overlord!”

  Seyzon stared into the depths of the prince’s pale-blue eyes and saw murderous rage lurking there. One wrong word from him might push Vindan Brell over the edge. Silently, he nodded then executed a perfect salute before turning for the door.

  “Send the woman to me.”

  Whipping his head around, Seyzon felt icy fingers of fear dragging down his spine. He knew better than to ask why his Overlord wanted to see Jana. He dared not open his mouth lest Jana suffer alongside him. Instead, he nodded slowly and turned back to the door.

  Exiting the sacristy, he was struck by the weight of every eye in the chapel looking at him. Jana’s tearful gaze bit into him as sharply and deep as his enemy’s dagger had on the battlefield. He felt her terror as keenly as the air he drew raggedly into his lungs.

  “He wants to speak with you,” he told his bride, avoiding the eyes of both her brother and Joseph.

  “What did he say?” she asked, her mouth trembling. She held her hands out to him and he took them. Her fingers were as cold as ice.

  “Nothing. Yet.” He shot a quick glance to Joseph then away. “I think my punishment hinges on what you say to him. He would not give me an opening to tell him why I disobeyed his edict.”

  “I will tell him,” she stated.

  “Be careful, milady,” he begged her, searching her face for she was as pale as a ghost.

  “I will make it right,” she told him.

  Jana entered the sacristy on legs that felt as though they might give way beneath her at any moment. Her Overlord was leaning against a cabinet, his gaze intent, face without expression.

  “Close the door,” he ordered.

  She did as he bid then turned, dropping to the floor, her knees hitting the wooden planks with a dull thud. “Your Grace—
”

  “I did not give you permission to speak, Madame!” he snapped.

  Clamping her lips tightly together, she stared at him with growing terror, striving to quell her trembling.

  “Answer only with a nod or a shake of your head,” he instructed. “Did your brother advise you not to accept Lord Seyzon’s proposal?”

  Slowly she nodded, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe normally.

  “Did he tell you what had happened to the last man who went against my policy of asking for permission to propose?”

  She shook her head for Alden had not—at that time—told her anything of the punishment that had been meted out, though she now knew of it. Neither had Seyzon broached the subject with her. If he had, she would not have accepted his proposal.

  “Then I will tell you,” he said. “I had the man in question strung up in the bailey and my executioner took the flesh from his back with a bullwhip. By the tenth stroke he was howling in agony.”

  Jana whimpered. She was twisting her fingers over and over themselves in the confines of her billowing skirt.

  “Because of his offense against me, his defiance of my rules, I can have Seyzon taken to the courtyard, his shirt stripped from him, his wrists tied to a pole and I would personally take the whip in my own hands and flay the flesh from his back or…” He came to stand directly in front of her then hunkered down so he was at eye level with her. He braced his forearms on his knees. “Or I can, as his Overlord and yours, exercise the Right of First Night.”

  Jana’s eyes flared. “Your Grace!” she gasped. “I am…”

  “A virgin,” he finished for her. “I suspected as much. Doesn’t matter. It is your choice, milady. Either his flesh or yours will be broken this night. You decide.”

  “Please do not hurt him,” she pleaded, tears falling down her cheeks.

  He said nothing for a long while then nodded. “Leave, but do not say one word to Seyzon when you see him. Say nothing to anyone. Go directly to his bedchamber and wait for me.” At her look of horror, he smiled. “It is only fitting I take you in his bed, the bed in which he planned to take what is now mine.”

  When Jana returned, Seyzon knew something horrible had happened in the sacristy. Something had been said that had crushed his wife’s spirit. He reached out to her but she shook her head violently and eluded him. Hiking up her skirts, she ran up the aisle—the shocked stares of the assemblage following her. Though he called after her, she did not answer and was soon through the door of the chapel. He made to follow her and was blocked by the Elite guard who positioned themselves directly in front of him.

  “Get out of my way,” he said through clenched teeth.

  They would not so he turned only to find his retreat blocked by two more guards.

  “Don’t do it,” the leader of the Elites warned, staring fixedly at Seyzon.

  “Lord Alden.”

  Every eye went to the sacristy where the prince was standing.

  “Aye, Your Grace!” Alden scurried forward to bow deeply.

  “Escort my men and Lord Seyzon to your dungeon,” the prince commanded. “He will be staying there a while.” He switched his attention to Joseph. “Commander, you are to keep everyone in this room until further notice. Do you understand?”

  Joseph snapped to attention. “Aye, Your Grace.”

  “You,” the prince said, coming into the chapel, pointing at a gorgeous woman sitting in the front row of the pews. “Come with me.”

  The woman beamed and was quick to join her Overlord. It was widely known the unmarried prince was as randy as his father, the king, and grandfather before him. Those two men had sown seed far and wide and the women who had caught their eye had been taken care of exceedingly well. Though Prince Vindan was the only male among his father’s brats, his half-sisters had given King Nolan dozens of warriors-in-the-making. Thankfully, none of them stood in line to inherit the throne. The woman who caught the prince’s eye and became his wife, who gave him an heir, would wield great power in Meiraman when he gained the throne.

  Lady Beatrice Saur wanted to be that woman. Sultry lips pursed to entice, she hurried behind Prince Vindan, determined to do whatever it took to become either his bride or his concubine. Either designation would suit her just fine.

  Thus it was a great disappointment to her to learn after scurrying behind him up the grand staircase that all he wanted was to be taken to the disgraced warrior’s bedchamber.

  “Mine is far more comfortable, Your Grace,” she said, brows drawn together in confusion.

  Prince Vindan stopped so suddenly she plowed into his back and when he spun around to give her an irritated glower, she jumped back.

  “Your Grace?” she questioned.

  “Did I ask to be shown to your bedchamber, woman?” he snarled.

  “No, Your Grace, but…”

  He moved so quickly she had no time to react. His hand snaked out and he grabbed her savagely by the throat to thrust her against the wall. Her head hit the wainscoting and bounced back, a pitiful whimper escaping her throat.

  “Where. Is. Lord. Seyzon’s. Room?” he bit out, squeezing her neck to punctuate each word.

  “Th-there, Your Gr-grace,” she managed to reply. She pointed to a door two down from where they stood in the corridor.

  “Go to your room and wait for me. Allow no one in save me and speak to no one. No one,” he ordered. “I’ve business to attend to before I see to you.”

  She tried to smile but he was cutting off her air. In her foggy mind, she reasoned that all was not lost. She might yet be able to win herself a position at court.

  He released her throat and gave her a tight smile. “Are we clear?” he asked.

  “Aye, Your Grace,” she whispered, gazing up into the hard planes of his handsome face.

  “Then go,” he said and stepped back. As she sidled warily past him, he reached out to smack her hard on her more than ample ass. She giggled like a schoolgirl though his hit had stung like fire. She did not hear the word slut he tacked on as she hurried down the corridor to her room at the far end.

  Hands on his hips, the prince watched until the woman was safely inside her room before he went to Seyzon’s door. He didn’t knock. He simply reached for the handle and opened the portal.

  Jana stiffened the moment the door opened. Her heart skipped a beat as she turned to find the prince standing just inside the room. Her eyes popped wide as he closed the door behind him then almost as an afterthought reached behind him to twist the dead bolt into place. Door secured, the edges of her world rippled as he dropped his hand to the broad black belt at his waist.

  * * * * *

  “You know he will not hurt her, Seyzon,” Gilbert Tohre, the Primary Elite Guard, said as he walked beside Seyzon on the way to Riverglade’s dungeon.

  Seyzon couldn’t speak. He was terrified of what Vindan might do. He cared next to nothing about himself, was thinking entirely of Jana, and fear for her was like a sea urchin hatching inside his gut.

  “From your lips to the goddess’s ear,” Alden said. He was as pale as Jana had been. His nervousness was exhibiting itself in the constant fiddling with the collar of his dress shirt as though the thing was choking him.

  “The prince is a good man,” Gilbert said. “Is he not, Seyzon?”

  “He can be,” Seyzon answered. “He can also be a mean—”

  “I would not finish that thought if I were you,” Gilbert cautioned.

  They had arrived at the cells. In the distance Seyzon could hear the steady drip of water, and closer by, the squeal and scampering of rats. Under foot, the stone floor was littered with filth.

  “It has been decades since anyone was jailed here,” Alden said. “There has been no need.”

  Along the way they had picked up the elderly man who had been in charge of the dungeon when Lord Alden’s father was the overseer of Riverglade. Though he hobbled along and mumbled to himself, he seemed competent. The large ring of rusty keys he had p
lucked from the damp wall at the nadir of the long stone stairwell that led down to the dungeon jingled in his arthritic hand.

  “Ain’t got no bedding left for the cot,” he told Alden from a mouth devoid of most of its teeth. What was left was a sprinkling of broken, pitted and darkly stained remnants. He fumbled a key into the cell door’s lock. “Rats done got to that long ago.”

  “Smells like shit in here,” Gilbert observed. “When was the last time that shitpot was emptied?”

  The old man shrugged. “Ain’t got no notion of that and don’t rightly care. Jails is for those what break the law and they get what they deserve.”

  “I want that pot emptied, you old coot,” Gilbert ordered. He was peering through the bars at the porcelain vessel sitting in the corner. Its dark interior told a tale of its own.

  Seyzon looked at the bare cot and ground his teeth. The piercing shriek of the cell door being drawn open ran down his spine like a dull razor. Other than the cot and the filthy chamber pot, the cell was empty. The walls were black as pitch and he prayed that was the stone’s natural color and not mold clinging to it.

  “I’ll get you a mattress,” Alden said. “And a pillow and blanket. It gets cold down here.”

  “You been down here often, have you, milord?” Gilbert asked.

  “My sister and I used to play hide and seek here when we were children,” Alden answered. “She once locked me down here overnight so I know how frigid the damp can be.” He looked at Seyzon. “And how dark.”

  “We’ll leave several lanterns for him,” Gilbert stated. He set the one he was carrying on the floor in front of the cell.

  Seyzon turned his head toward Gilbert and silently thanked him. The man knew he had a dislike of dark, enclosed places.

  “His Grace didn’t say anything about food and water but I’ll see that you are provided with both,” Alden said. “It is the least I can do.”

  “Don’t antagonize him,” Seyzon warned his new brother-in-law. “You do not want to make an enemy of Prince Vindan.”