29. The Mock Fray
XXIX
THE MOCK FRAY
It began, as these things often did, behind a closed door and beneath the weight of orders.
Erik had been summoned to the council chamber before the sun had fully risen, as the kitchen warmed up, before the keep had drawn its first breath of the day.
A pale-faced steward who hadn’t met Erik’s eyes had murmured, “Lord Henry wishes his commander in the council chamber . . . alone.”
He knew it wasn’t a military matter—no call to arms had been sounded. No envoy awaited or was sent, leaving only one likely possibility.
Seren.
He’d seen her only once in the past few months.
She’d been ill, but afterward, she’d come to the garden with her children.
He wanted to pick flowers with her again.
Wanted to place a fresh yellow sunburst in her hand or in her hair, but he stayed away for a reason.
He simply dipped his chin. She’d smiled and kept his gaze locked for a moment more than she should have.
It was enough for him. Maybe it had been too much for Henry, but who would have told him?
Maybe it had nothing to do with Seren.
He blew a hard breath.
A war drum thudded beneath his ribs as he climbed the stairs. He told himself it would be a new order regarding border patrols or the Warwick escort that was gearing up in the bailey. Something mundane. Something harmless.
But Lord Henry never summoned without intent. And Erik had learned that the man’s most dangerous games were never played on battlefields—but in shadows, with smiles, and bloodless blades—before displaying his victory for all the world to see.
Erik stepped into the chamber. The heavy door shut behind him.
Morning sunlight filtered weakly through the narrow windows, pooling on the long table where Henry sat alone, fingers steepled, eyes sharp and glinting with something that felt colder than malice.
There were no scrolls or maps on the table.
That was when Erik understood: this summons wasn’t about lands or borders. It was a trap, carefully set and polished.
And it likely involved Seren.
“Commander de Montfort,” Henry began. “At the harvest feast, I saw my wife glancing at every lord and knight there. I cannot prove she is unfaithful, but you will get me proof.”
Erik raised his indifferent facade and stood ready to receive instruction.
“I’ve never asked this of you before, but I have to believe you care nothing for her because you lost your wife caring for my first wife, and I hold your son’s life in my hand.”
“Be good to my son, and I will be good to you,” Erik repeated the bargain, knowing there would be no proof. Seren was faithful, more than he’d wanted her to be. “I care nothing for her.”
Henry stood and walked around the table, boots echoing off the wooden floor. His hands folded behind his back. He sized Erik up and tilted his head.
“I know in my heart, you are an object of her desire. I’ve seen her glance too many times in your direction. Too many blushes of her cheeks.” His eyes narrowed. “You will attempt to kiss her, and if she allows you, then it shall only be a chaste kiss, do you understand, pagan?”
Erik looked straight ahead, unfocused. His belly twisted.
“Yes, my lord.”
He’d doomed her. He shouldn’t have spoken to her in the garden, shouldn’t have called her Valkyrie, or looked upon her lips with desire. Shouldn’t have touched her, embraced her, held her in the stairwell, wiped her tears.
Once, half a year ago now, she’d danced with David under the harvest feast firelight, her dress brushing the floor, his small hand in hers.
Erik had stood by the hearth, arms crossed, watching her as if she were made of light. She had glanced his way once. Only once, but her eyes told him she missed him, even if she did not love him.
And because of his feelings for her, she might die. He’d come so close to kissing her before; would she allow him to come close enough that whoever watched or listened would think their lips touched?
How would he warn her?
“When your men escort her to Warwick, my men from Blackhill Keep will attack. There shall be no blood spilled, but in the fury, each man will take a child, but you”—Henry approached Erik with a regal saunter—“you will take her to the gardens of Briarwood village to hide; there is a private alcove there. You will kiss her then.”
“Yes, my lord.” Erik didn’t move.
“I will have my scout there in hiding. We will see how loyal she is, the unfaithful wench, and then I will have proof of her false piety. A divinely favored woman who allows another man’s kiss.
That will be the public execution of the century.
” Henry chuckled as he returned to the table.
“And the irony of it. The church will claim she’s stained and outcast her. The very tool she’s used against me.”
Erik offered a soft rebuttal in an attempt to save Seren from whatever this scout would report back. Erik feared the man likely would speak lies because Henry had hold of something he loved. When Henry was determined to do something, it would be done no matter the truth of the matter.
“My lord, your wife has been good to you. Why is it you believe her unfaithful? She has only expanded your name, and she sees me as nothing. She will not let me kiss her.”
His fisted hand slammed into the table.
“Nine years, Commander. Nine years and only one son. A lady’s sole purpose is to have children, and I do not want daughters. A mare who no longer breeds is of no use. The church will not let me put her aside for such a reason.”
“You have a healthy heir.”
Henry shot a deathly glare at Erik. “Why do you care about my dealings so much, Payen?”
Erik evened his heartbeat and loosened his jaw.
“I would have burned the world for Astrid. I kill at your order to keep my son safe. Lady de Thornwyck has been a good wife for you, carried your legacy with grace and sacrifice, expanded your reign as divinely favored, and kept the Welsh border at peace. Why do you—”
“Shut your mouth.” Henry again pounded the table.
Erik did as he was told.
“You will never understand, pagan. All women are unfaithful. They all want more than what they have. If she hasn’t warmed another’s bed, she wants to.
I’ve seen the glances she gives you, the soft smile when you speak.
She wishes for you, and I know it. I do not want a woman who is not wholly mine. ”
Erik bartered that he could try to defend Seren one more time before Ragnar’s life would be at stake. “She smiles at many people, Lord Henry.”
“My mother smiled at many people.” Henry slid his finger along the table’s edge.
“I thought my mother was above reproach, divinely favored, but my father opened my eyes, held my face to watch her as she was tortured with her lover. Taught me women are liars and deceivers, snakes with pretty scales. Warned me always to remove their heads before they strike.”
He strode up to Erik and placed a hard slap against his jaw. “That goes for everyone. A chaste kiss only, Commander. Or your whelp will lose his head, along with my wife.”
“What words should I speak if she rejects me or if she allows me to kiss her?” Erik said, unmoving. His hands were at his sides, his back was straight, and his eyes were dead.
Henry slapped his jaw twice as a smile curved onto his lips. “You are such a good dog, Commander. Always do as you’re told. Too bad, I know you do not do it out of your love for me.”
He spun around and walked back to the table.
He leaned over it. “If she rejects you, you shall beg forgiveness, clearly. If she allows you to kiss her, pledge your love and loyalty. When I drag her to the great hall with the council there, I’ll have you arrested as well.
Threaten your whelp’s life. See what she says and does.
The look on her face when she realizes you only kissed her because I commanded it . . .”
He chuckled.
“The Lord will surely turn his favor from her then.”
“Yes, Lord Henry.” Erik waited for the immediate dismissal.
“The caravan is ready. Go.”
Erik bowed stiffly at the waist and left the council chamber. He donned his armor and met the caravan in the bailey.
Seren and her children were in the wagon with Margot, Isolde, and the wet nurse. The flaps were up, given the hot day. The knights looked to him. They were all going to be a part of the mock attack—each grab a wagon rider and head back to Castel Thornwyck, except him.
Seren smiled at all of them.
Henry was delusional.
Seren felt nothing for him except friendship, maybe gratitude. It was he who had let her settle in his heart. She would pass this test. He hoped whoever was tasked with reporting back would do so truthfully, and that it would be enough to save her.
“Thank you for your service in transporting us to Warwick,” she addressed the men-at-arms.
Her gaze landed on Erik. “I know it takes resources from the northern borders, and I am grateful for this journey to meet a potential betrothed for Lord David.”
Erik dipped his chin. “We are honored, Lady de Thornwyck.”
She returned to her seat, and Erik led them out of the bailey over the drawbridge.
As the morning turned to noon, Henry’s men, clad in green surcoats, attacked. No one was to die. They overpowered the caravan, then Erik yelled, “Get them back to Thornwyck keep!”
Each man grabbed their target out of the wagon, and Erik punched a man and stabbed the ground near his head. The knight stayed down, pretending death had taken him.
He saw one by one be swept away, Lord David, Lady Aveline, and Vala, the wet nurse with Lady Elen and Cari, and another two grabbed Margot and Isolde. Erik grabbed Seren. They galloped back to Thornwyck, but again were attacked.
In the chaos, Erik galloped away with Seren toward Briarwood as the others split, leaving Seren screaming for her children.
“Protect them!” She banged on Erik’s shoulder. “Protect them!”