Chapter 20 #2
Anything she was about to say died on her lips as soon as she saw his face. There was no doubt the Dragon stood before her. His dark eyes blazed with fury, his nostrils flared, and it would be fiery words he unleashed on her.
His hand tightened on her arm like an iron shackle. She was not going anywhere.
“We hurry back,” Rhys shouted to his men.
She was surprised that the warriors did not follow after the wolf, but instead surrounded her and Rhys, providing a thick safety barrier around them. She wondered what kind of danger lurked in the woods that caused such precautions to be taken.
When they were a few feet in the village, the warriors dispersed, while a few remained on the edge of the woods.
Rhys kept walking, pulling her along with him, his pace barely slowing.
People stared and whispers circled as they watched their leader practically drag his wife through the village.
Heather almost tripped over her own feet twice, but Rhys was quick to right her.
Heather was shocked when he brought her to the barn. The guard, upon seeing them approach, hurried to his feet and moved the bench away from the door just as Rhys reached out for the handle.
He yanked her inside, ordering the guard to shut the door behind him. He rushed her along, stopping at the stall where she had last seen the two dead ghost warriors. Nothing was there but a partially filled grain sack sitting atop a barrel.
His heated tone flamed his words. “I give orders for a reason—to protect my clan. You endangered not only your life, but the lives of my men by disobeying me. Evil lurks in those woods.” He shoved her toward the barrel. “See it for yourself and perhaps then you will obey me.”
A tingle of fear rushed over Heather as she took a step toward the barrel. If the sack held no grain, what did it hold? She cautiously undid the tie on the sack and pulled the edges down around whatever was in it.
Heather’s hands froze when it revealed the severed head of a man that had been beaten beyond reason, his eyes gorged out of his head like the other warrior.
Maggots feasted on what was left of the flesh and other bugs began to crawl out of the holes and what was left of his nose.
His mouth hung agape as if in a perpetual scream when suddenly a spider crawled out of it.
She jumped back, her stomach revolting at the sickening sight, and she turned to her husband, stretching her hand out to him.
Rhys grabbed her around the waist and hurried her away from the disgusting sight. He quickly bent her at the waist, saying, “Take deep breaths.”
She did as he said and while doing so she heard someone enter the barn. The next thing she knew, Rhys was placing a wet cloth to her face. The coolness chased away the last of the protesting rumbles in her stomach and she straightened, though dropped back to lean against her husband.
Rhys had been too angry with his wife to care or give thought to how she would react when she saw the severed head. Now he regretted it and regrets were rare for him.
She turned in his arms, resting her head against his chest, wishing she could erase the atrocious sight from her memory.
Rhys wrapped his arm around her and gently eased her along toward the door.
Pitt stood there and opened it as they approached and Heather realized he had been the one to enter the barn before, but then he was always there when Rhys needed him.
Rhys watched the faces of his people as they looked at his wife as he escorted her through the village. Tongues would wag, speculating over what she saw that left her ghostly pale and trembling in his arms. The servants in the keep stepped away as Rhys walked through the Great Hall with her.
Nessa was the only one with courage enough to approach him. “Is there anything I can do for my lady?”
“Bring more wine to my solar,” Rhys ordered as he hurried Heather out of the room. He sat her in the chair by the fire after entering his solar and when he went to release her hand, she grabbed it.
“Do not leave me.”
Her actions had him recalling a similar reaction right here in the solar after she had seen the bodies of the two dead warriors.
She had seen too much evil of late, but this time it had been his fault.
Rhys took tight hold of her hand. “I am not going anywhere. I just want to add more logs to the fire. You feel chilled.”
“I am,” she said and reluctantly let him go.
Rhys bid Nessa to enter when he heard a knock and as soon as she did, he said, “Leave it. I will see to it.”
Nessa cast a worried look at Heather. She was pale and shivered even with the fire stoked and she wondered what had happened to her. She hated leaving her, but she had no choice. She closed the door quietly behind her.
Rhys filled a goblet and handed it to Heather.
Her hands shook so badly when she took it that Rhys cupped his around hers and helped her drink from it. Afterwards he took it from her and set it on the small table beside her chair.
Rhys did not like that no color had returned to her cheeks and that she continued to tremble. He leaned over and lifted her up into his arms, then sat in the chair, drawing her legs up and tucking her firmly against him.
After a several minutes of stroking her back, she looked up at him and said, “Who would do such a monstrous thing?
“The man I was a slave to for seven years.”
“A slave?” Heather repeated almost choking on the word.
“Aye, a slave, forced to do an evil man’s bidding.”
Fear gripped Heather. “You escaped and now he comes for you?”
“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I won my freedom.”
“Then what does he want from you?”
“What I took from him when I left.”
When he remained silent for several minutes, she asked, “What did you take from him?”
“His wife.”