Chapter 18 #2
“Ye will hae naething else from me,” she replied, pushing herself back to her knees, but that was as far as she could get. The pain was too much to bear.
Warnock cackled and waved to the guards.
“I thought ye might say something like that. Maybe it’s worse for ye tae see pain inflicted than tae feel it yerself,” he said.
Beitris heard a groan. Brody was dragged in.
His face was a mess of bruises and his eyes were barely open.
He couldn’t move under his own power, and so his legs were limp, trailing behind him like the loose reins of a horse.
He was dumped beside Beitris. Warnock wasted no time in bringing the cudgel down with two hands, right in the middle of Brody’s torso.
There was a sharp crack as Brody doubled over.
He spat out a plume of blood and then settled on the ground.
“Nae!” Beitris replied.
“Aye,” Warnock hissed. He swung the cudgel like a club and hit Brody’s flank.
He screamed wide-eyed and twisted, too late to protect himself.
“I will dae this tae every member of yer family. I will make ye watch as I torture them all. Their tears and blood will flood this Great Hall, and it shall be the greatest triumph this land hae ever seen.”
“Ye are a monster. That is nae victory… that is… that is… there are nae words.”
Warnock laughed again. He put his hand on Brody’s outstretched arm and pressed down with his boot, crushing Brody’s wrist. Brody’s cry was guttural and raw.
“Stop, just stop! What dae ye want? Why are ye daeing this? Is it about Logan?”she asked, the name feeling like poison upon her tongue.
Warnock drew his boot back. He turned and paced around the floor. Brody’s head lolled towards Beitris. Blood pooled on the floor as it trickled out of the corner of his mouth.
“Forgive him… tell him I forgive him too,” Brody wheezed, then closed his eyes.
“Ach, it’s interesting ye should mention his name. I understand that the two of ye became close. It’s good tae ken that ye are drawn tae Warnock men.”
Warnock turned and looked at Brody. Disappointment clouded his features, evidently upset that he could not gain more amusement from his toy. He gestured to the guards, who came marching up and pulled Brody away. The point had been made.
Warnock wielded the cudgel menacingly. With the pain still throbbing in her limbs, Beitris didn’t think she would be able to choke him even if she managed to get her hands around his throat. She looked at him darkly, a truth she had dared not face nagged at the back of her mind.
“What… what dae ye mean?”
Warnock tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Dinnae he tell ye, lass? He’s my son. My blood flows through him, nae that he’s ever proven himself worthy of it. Too much of his lowborn Ma in him,” Warnock muttered.
Beitris could not describe the wave of revulsion she felt passing through her.
The hands and lips that had caressed her, the breath that had promised such sweet things, the heart that had beat in rhythm with her own…
they had all been possessed by a Warnock.
And yet hadn’t she suspected this? She’d always kept the truth at arm’s length, not wishing to face it, preferring instead to remain in ignorance and keep a veil of doubt over her eyes because she could never love a Warnock.
She could never… and then it hit her. Logan had probably sworn the same thing.
Had he hated her all this time?
Had her kisses been poison, or had he been fighting his feelings?
“But dinnae worry yer pretty wee head, lass.”
Warnock leaned down and cupped her cheeks, his long jagged nails cutting into her skin. Beitris fumed inside, but her eyes darted to the side, seeing the cudgel, knowing that if she tried to refuse his touch he would bring it down upon her and she would be left disfigured.
“Ye will see that everything hae worked out for the best. Ye are here for a reason, my greatest prize. Ryan Knox’s daughter.
But soon enough ye will be something else, something more,” the words rolled out with great emotion.
His eyes gleamed with ambition and greed.
“Ye will be my wife. Beitris Warnock,” he rasped.
Horror shook Beitris’ heart once again.
“Nae! Nae!” she cried.
Warnock threw his head back and laughed.
This time Beitris did try to wrest her face free, but Warnock’s grip tightened.
He squeezed her jaw and then all trace of amusement fled his face.
He leaned down. She could feel his stale breath and see his yellowed teeth.
The rivers in his eyes were visible, and she knew she was looking into the face of someone who was pure evil.
“Oh aye, lass, aye indeed. I will take ye as my wife. Ye will bear me a son worthy of my name. Even I hae tae admit that men with Gilmour and Knox blood are strong. I almost hae one of them for my own. Perhaps I shall hae better luck with ye,” he said.
At the reference to Angus, Beitris felt rage explode inside.
She turned and quickly bit down on his fingers.
He yelped in pain and quickly enough she was upon him, throwing all her weight.
Warnock staggered back and swiped his claws at her face.
They caught her cheek and she felt blood oozing out, but she didn’t care.
All she wanted was to kill him.
Soon enough her hands were around his throat and she was straddling him. His eyes bulged as he panted for breath. Beitris was so focused on fighting through the pain that she didn’t see his hand crawling like a spider to the cudgel. She only saw the shadow of movement when it was too late.
It crashed against the side of her head and she was left reeling. Dazed, she was flung from him. Warnock snarled as he returned to his feet and kicked her stomach. She rolled away, clutching her abdomen. He put his boot on her chest and raised his cudgel. He sneered at her.
“Ye can fight all ye want, but it will nae bring ye anything but pain. Ye are mine now, Beitris, and one by one I shall pluck the lives of yer kin away just like the legs on an insect. I will bring their heads tae ye and I will watch ye weep over every one of them, and once ye give me a son then I shall be done with ye. Ye can join them in the hell ye hae wrought.”
Beitris glared at him. Her hands twitched. How she longed for a bow and arrow. At the present moment, though, she only had her words.
And she knew just what to say. She remembered her father talking about Abigail. She remembered Logan speaking about his distant father and kind sister. There might have been some truth amid the lies.
“Abigail would hate ye for this,” she hissed.
Warnock’s face transformed. For a moment, the smugness was replaced by surprise, and then it shifted to a deep, vengeful anger.
“Ye dinnae get tae say her name!”
Warnock brought the cudgel crashing down with all his might.
It smashed the ground next to her head. The impact was deafening.
Beitris clamped her eyes shut and turned her head sharply, fearing that the next blow would crush her skull.
Warnock panted and hissed. His long eerie fingers were curled around the thick cudgel.
He groaned as he lifted it again, but then simply spat on her.
“I tire of looking at ye. But dinnae worry, I will nae send ye tae the pit again.”
He lifted the cudgel in the air, gesturing for the guards to come and get her.
“I’ll never become yer bride! Ye are gaeing tae die.
Ye are a blight on the Highlands, but we will soon be rid of ye!
” she yelled so loudly that her throat became raw.
She glared at Warnock, who slunk back towards his throne and drew his cloak over his head, disappearing into the shadows once again.
Beitris writhed helplessly as the guards dragged her over an uneven floor.
Sickness twisted in her gut and as the guards dumped her in a cold, dark room, she fell to her knees and coughed up the contents of her stomach, sparse as they were.
Although her protestations had been belligerent, she wasn’t sure if help was coming.
Logan might well have killed Ryan now and caused untold damage to her clan.
And even if her family did come, would they arrive in time?
A cold shiver crawled across her skin because she knew that Warnock could come at any time to claim her, torturing her with his old, evil body. She ran her hands through her hair, tearing through the knots, frustrated that she had allowed herself to be captured.
It was all Logan’s fault.
Beitris slumped against the side of the bed as she gathered her strength.
She let her tears blur her eyes again. It was only after her tears had dried that amid the shadows beneath the bed, something caught her eye.
She reached through, and her hands curled around an old book.
She pulled it out. The pages were tattered and well-read, the cover layered with thick dust. She coughed as she placed it on the bed and flicked it open.
She saw a dragon carrying a princess away and a knight volunteering to kill it.
Beitris curled her lip as she gazed at the pages.
She had never been one to rely on other people to rescue her, and she took this story as a timely reminder that she was not some helpless princess—she was a knight too, and she would have to find a way to rescue herself.