Chapter Sixteen #2
Aeddan simply shook his head; either he didn’t know, or he didn’t want to say. In any case, Blayth didn’t push him. Something was amiss, and Aeddan was letting Blayth know that he had to expect anything.
With Morys, that was usually the case.
Blayth kept his cool on the surface but, on the inside, his concern was mounting.
He thought he’d said everything to Morys that needed to be said and couldn’t imagine why the man was here…
unless the words they’d spoken between them weren’t final in Morys’ opinion. And now the man was armed to stop him?
In truth, Blayth wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t surprised that Morys wasn’t willing to let him go so easily, perhaps to try one more time to convince him that it would not be in his best interest to dredge up his past. But Blayth was resolute that he needed to try.
Nothing Morys could say would change that.
“Morys?” Blayth said, calling to the man with veiled impatience. “What did you wish to speak of?”
Morys came forward, out of the darkness of the gatehouse, making his way towards Blayth.
It was then that Blayth saw the crossbow in Morys’ hand; he wasn’t pointing it at anyone, but merely aiming it at the ground.
But he was carrying a weapon, as Aeddan had said he was, and the concern Blayth felt blossomed into full-blown apprehension.
It wasn’t for him so much as it was for Asmara; if Morys tried something, he didn’t want her caught in the crossfire.
But seeing Morys with the weapon, now Blayth was coming to understand what this was all about.
Morys wasn’t here to talk him out of anything.
Somehow, someway, Morys was going to force him into remaining because, Blayth knew, this went again Morys’ plans.
This wasn’t want Morys wanted, so he was going to resort to intimidation.
Blayth braced himself.
But what he didn’t know was that several feet behind him, Asmara was also reaching for her crossbow, tied off on her saddle.
She, too, was watching Morys come forth with a weapon in his hand and she knew he had it for a reason.
It wasn’t simply to hint at threats and intimidation.
Morys was aggressive, bold, and reckless, and if he felt he was being wronged, he would more than likely lash out at whoever he felt was wronging him.
In this case, it was Blayth, leaving on his own quest and evidently not placing the greater priority on the rebellion and Morys’ wants.
Much like Blayth, none of this surprised her. And she wanted to be ready.
“Get off your horse, Blayth,” Morys said calmly. “You are not leaving. We have more important issues to deal with.”
Blayth remained calm. “I will not disagree that the issues are important,” he said evenly. “But I have explained that this is something I must do, Morys. It does not diminish my gratitude in what you have done for me, but surely you understand my need to know the truth.”
Morys was clearly impatient. “The truth you seek will be there in a year from now or five years from now,” he said. “The past cannot be changed. It will still be there in time but, for now, I need you here. You have an important destiny to fulfill at present.”
Blayth eyed the man. Unless they wanted the secret of Blayth’s true identity and background revealed, there wasn’t more either of them could say.
Blayth had said everything he’d wanted to say earlier, so Morys’ attempt to force him into remaining was not sitting well with him.
He honestly couldn’t believe the man was threatening him, out here for all to hear where their secret could easily be revealed.
But maybe that was Morys’ plan.
As Blayth contemplated how to handle Morys, Asmara didn’t have quite so much patience.
As she saw it, Morys was, yet again, trying to control Blayth and as the man’s betrothed, she wasn’t going to stand for it.
She’d never liked her uncle. In fact, she’d hated him for how he’d always treated her father, and she wasn’t going to let the man push Blayth, or her, around any longer.
It was time to take a stand.
The crossbow in her hand lifted.
“Get out of the way,” she told her uncle as she urged her excitable horse forward. “You know why he has to leave, so get out of the way.”
Morys looked up to see Asmara pointed a crossbow right at him. He wasn’t all that astonished that she had asserted herself, but it did infuriate him.
“This is not your affair,” he said. “Put that weapon down before you hurt someone.”
It was the wrong thing to say to her. “I am going to hurt you if you do not get out of his way,” she growled.
“You have spent your entire life belittling people and ordering them around, my father included, but you are not going to do it now. You are a bitter excuse for a man, an inglorious fool who is trying to make himself feel important by pushing Blayth to do things you cannot do yourself. You are riding on his glory but, this time, he is going to choose his own path. Standing in front of these gates is only going to see you injured, or worse. I will not let you do it.”
He shook his head at her as if disgusted.
“Shut your ridiculous mouth, girl,” he said.
“My brother did not take a firm hand to you when you were younger, so you do not know your place. He let you do whatever you pleased and now you are a grotesque shadow of a female, neither a lady nor a man, but something in between. I can only imagine how you seduced Blayth because, certainly, there is nothing about you that is seductive or soft, and now you try to push yourself into business where you do not belong. Someone should have shut you up years ago.”
Asmara didn’t feel shame like she normally would have because her uncle was simply having a tantrum and pulling her right along with him, showing off to the men around him.
Aeddan and Pryce were standing near Asmara, looking very strained and upset by what was going on, so she turned to them rather than responding directly to her uncle.
“Do you know that he has been lying to you this entire time?” she said loud enough for Morys to hear her.
“He has been manipulating you and belittling you, pushing you around because he believes it is his right, as a prince of Deheubarth. Ask him why he does not want Blayth to leave Gwendraith. See if he is brave enough to tell you.”
That drew a very strong reaction from Morys. “I told you to shut your lips, you stupid chit,” he snarled. “You, who has sprung from the weak loins of my brother. He is so weak that he could only have females. Females he has raised as sons!”
“At least my father had children,” Asmara fired back. “If I were you, I would be careful who you accuse of being weak. Coming from a man who could not impregnate his wife, I would say you are the weak one in the family.”
Morys’ featured twisted, a macabre expression of rage on his face. “Bitch,” he hissed. “You will regret that.”
He started to lift his crossbow but Blayth was there, putting himself between Asmara and Morys. His gaze was deadly.
“I told you that you would not insult her in my presence,” he said. “And if you intend to use that crossbow on her, know that I will snap your neck before you can reload it. Make a move against her and it shall be your last.”
Morys was quickly moving beyond rational thinking.
He was used to being in control, always, and he looked at Blayth’s words as a revolt.
Now, the man was challenging him and Morys’ pride took a hit.
It was a fragile thing, fed by his inflated sense of self-worth and the submission of the men under his command.
It was easily bolstered and even more easily shattered.
If he didn’t have control over all things, then he had nothing, and right now he was facing that very possibility with Blayth.
He couldn’t let the man gain the upper hand.
He was going to take him down.
“Did you hear him?” he cried, raising his voice so that even the sentries on the wall could hear him. “Do you know why he is threatening me? Because I know the truth about him!”
The men began to stir in the darkness, hearing Morys’ words.
The general consensus believed that Morys was an arrogant man and would like to have his way in all things, but he also had that hereditary respect because of his lineage.
He was followed more out of duty than out of love or respect, so when he started shouting about truths and threats, men listened but it was always with some doubt.
In fact, Aeddan and Pryce, now standing next to Asmara, listened to Morys with more doubt than most. They’d been around him far too long to believe anything he said without reservations. As the man began to cause a scene, Asmara turned to Aeddan once more.
“Get into the gatehouse and open the gates,” she pleaded softly. “This is not going to end well if Blayth is not permitted to leave.”
Pryce heard her. Having no love for Morys, he immediately moved towards the gatehouse, trying to stay to the shadows and trying to stay out of Morys’ line of sight. As he moved off, Aeddan whispered to Asmara.
“What is this all about?” he asked.
Asmara kept her eyes on her uncle. Since she didn’t know the man particularly well, she didn’t feel comfortable telling him the truth. That would have to come from Blayth, for it would be Blayth’s decision to trust his friend with such things.
“Whatever he says, it is not the truth,” she muttered, avoiding the question. “All Blayth wants to do is leave Gwendraith, but Morys wants to keep him here.”
“But why?”
She shook her head, unwilling to answer directly. “Just know that Morys is a liar. He will say anything to manipulate men. But I think you already know that.”
Aeddan did. He’d seen it his entire life. He’d seen the man beat down and belittle his own father until the man died at an early age. Before he could question her further, Morys turned to Blayth and pointed at the man.