20. Baron
BARON
Isighed and ran one hand over the back of my neck as I walked down the hall.
The day felt as though it would have no end.
I’d spent hours reviewing the troops’ drills, and they were still far from adequate.
More than a dozen quarrels had broken out among the soldiers, most of them over matters so petty I could hardly believe grown men were willing to waste breath on them.
I still had to meet with the captains that night, attend to the lengthy reports handed in that day, write up a summary of those reports for Prince John, and then slip into the forest at midnight to meet James.
I ran my hand through my hair and blew out a long breath.
I’d never admired my father before, but I was beginning to understand the sheer weight of what he had managed.
The workload alone was immense, even without the constant danger of double-agent work added on top of it.
Of course, my father had carried it by becoming crueler, harder, and more distant with every passing year.
That was not the sort of strength I wanted.
Still, as my head throbbed and my shoulders ached from the day’s burdens, I understood a little better how easy it would be to let the work strip away every softer part of a man.
Soldiers saluted as I passed them in the hallway. “Sheriff,” they called respectfully.
I kept my eyes straight ahead and didn’t bother acknowledging them.
That was what Father had always done, and what I intended to do as well, though our reasons were not the same.
Father had ignored the men-at-arms because he considered himself above them.
I kept my distance because there was only a short amount of time before I betrayed them all, and the less I knew about them, the easier it would be.
I had no reservations about betraying someone like Dominic.
Men like him chose cruelty and called it loyalty.
But others, like Sebastian, would be far more difficult.
There were good soldiers here, genuinely good men who laughed with each other over meals, sent wages home to their wives and children, and believed they were serving the rightful authority.
They were simply on the wrong side of the battle.
I couldn’t go to them and ask them to help me bring down their leader.
My position was already precarious enough.
I opened the door to my private room, then locked it.
For a moment, I pressed my forehead against the heavy wood and closed my eyes.
The air inside was cool and still, and for one brief instant, I let myself imagine that I might have a few hours to catch up on the infernal reports overflowing from my desk before the captains arrived.
A soft sound came from the corner. I whirled around, my hand already moving toward my sword, and saw a cloaked figure near the wall.
Laurel.
Relief hit first, foolish and immediate.
Ever since my platoon had arrived, she had avoided visiting me in my quarters as often, well aware that she could be recognized.
And even though I knew it was dangerous, I was always glad to see her.
“You shouldn’t be here. Anyone could recognize you,” I said, reaching for her with a tired smile, but Laurel backed away and held up one hand to stop me.
I stopped.
There was something wrong about the way she was looking at me. The look in her eyes was hard and angry, but beneath the anger was something that looked far too much like pain.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you do it?” Laurel’s voice was choked.
“Do what?”
“My friend Walter.” Her voice shook on his name. “His hand is missing fingers. Did you do that?”
For a moment, I couldn’t answer.
I had spent years trying to forget that day. I had tried to forget my father watching along with the other officers to see whether I would hesitate. I remembered being young and desperate to prove I deserved the authority I had been given.
I swallowed. I couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.”
Laurel closed her eyes as if the single word had struck her. When she opened them again, there was something like disgust in her expression. “Was that the only time? Or were there others?”
I wanted to say it was the only time. I wanted to tell her it had been an accident, that I had misunderstood an order, that I had done one terrible thing and then become better at once.
I wanted to find any version of the truth that would let her keep looking at me the way she was doing. But the truth was uglier than that.
“He wasn’t the only one,” I said.
Laurel shook her head, slow and horrified. “How could you?”
The shame that had always been heavy in my chest twisted into something more acute.
I had known this day might come. I had known Laurel would hate hearing about my former life, but some stupid part of me had thought she would remember who I was now before condemning who I had been.
“You have to understand, that was before.”
“Before what?” she demanded. “Before you decided torturing people wasn’t for you? Before you had some blissful epiphany and saw the light?”
The venom in her voice took me aback. “You aren’t being objective,” I told her.
If Laurel would look at this logically, she would realize the past was not as simple as she wanted it to be.
She knew what it meant to hurt people because the mission required it.
“You’ve injured people during your missions too.
You don’t hear me berating you for that, do you? ”
“Self-defense is different from intentional mutilation,” she nearly shouted.
I shushed her at once and glanced toward the door, anxious about the guards outside hearing her voice.
The gesture only made her expression harden further, and I cursed myself for it.
Laurel was angry, hurt, and impatient, and I was treating her like a problem to contain instead of the woman whose trust I had just shattered.
It was late, I was exhausted, and now was the time Laurel chose to pick a fight?
Still, I pushed on, desperate for her to see it from my point of view.
“Self-defense? Should I tell that to the families of the men you killed when we were springing your father from prison? It seems like you shot first and asked questions never in their cases. A few fingers look pretty good in comparison to that, don’t you think?
You don’t understand what it is like. Not all of us can flip our hair and bat our eyes when we want someone to do what we want.
” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to retract them.
Laurel recoiled as if I had slapped her.
“I didn’t hear you complain when it was your neck I was saving,” she shot back. “Sometimes I had to take a life, but I never torture people just for the fun of it.”
“I don’t torture people just for the fun of it.” My voice rose despite every attempt to keep it low. “Didn’t you say you would forgive me my past if I forgave you yours? Were you lying when you said that?”
Her face changed. For a moment, something wounded appeared in her expression, then she shoved past me and stormed toward the door.
Her hypocrisy stunned me. Yes, I had carried out terrible orders, many of them.
Yes, I had done things I would never be able to undo.
But I had repented of them. I had changed.
I was risking everything to make up for the life I had led, and still Laurel stood there looking at me as though my father had been right about me all along.
Was I supposed to stand there and take that? I wasn’t going to roll over like an obedient dog. If Laurel thought she could manipulate me as easily as she’d manipulated others, she was wrong.
Just as her hand reached for the latch, a knock sounded on the other side. “Sheriff?” a soldier’s voice called. “Are you all right in there?”
“I’m fine,” I answered quickly, waving Laurel away from the door.
She crossed her arms, huffed, and didn’t move an inch.
There was a pause. “We heard a voice.”
“That’s me talking, you morons.”
Another pause. “There was a woman’s voice.”
I glared at Laurel. Yet another consequence of her hasty, impulsive actions, and once again, I had to find a way to cover it. “Yes, I have a woman in here, you imbecile, and we want to be alone. Now get lost.”
“Oh.” The soldier began stumbling over his words. “I see, I see. Well, in that case, perhaps I should…”
“Get lost,” I roared through the door, then gave it a kick for good measure.
His footsteps shuffled down the hall, and I heard him wheeze to someone nearby, “The sheriff doesn’t want to be disturbed right now. He’s entertaining a lady friend.”
Several hearty guffaws answered him.
I waited until the sound of his retreat diminished, then eased open the small sliding panel in the door to see who the soldier had been talking to.
Several soldiers from my platoon were still milling around in the hall.
Some sat rolling dice. A few leaned against the stone walls beneath a torch bracket, speaking in low voices.
Any of them would recognize Laurel from her time as a prisoner if she walked out.
She had been too conspicuous and too memorable of a hostage for them to have forgotten, even if they all believed her dead.
I closed the panel and ran my fingers through my hair.
I had a meeting soon. I had to get Laurel out safely before then, but I had no idea how long the men would remain outside.
Were they waiting to speak with me about more of their stupid quarrels or were they simply avoiding duties?
If I ordered them away, it might look too suspicious.
If I left the room and commanded them to follow me, Laurel still could be seen slipping out.
Every possibility that came to mind had too many risks.
I heaved a sigh.
Laurel had pulled back from the door and was sitting on my bed, arms folded, glowering at me for all she was worth.