by Sarah Monzon
She shifted away from him. Since when had she started doing that? They used to be like Orhan and Yara, hand-in-hand, facing the world together. What had changed?
She threw the blossom to the ground and jumped to her feet. “If you can’t, then I will.”
She moved to storm past him, but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Her gaze snapped to his before turning daggers to look where he detained her.
“Let. Go.”
“Like I said, I can’t do that.”
Her nostrils flared. “Neanderthal.”
“Fine. I’m a caveman.” He sighed and pulled her back down to sit on the bench beside him. “You, talk. Me, listen.”
Her lips thinned until they were no longer visible.
He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine.” He ground out the word. “Then I’ll talk, and you listen.”
She glared at him while he sifted through things he wanted to say and how to say them. He wouldn’t have worried about delivery so much before, but now he prayed that God coated his words with a layer of grace. And maybe a smidgen of tact, which he wasn’t known for.
“Well?” she huffed.
He clenched his teeth and then released his jaw. “What is going on with you, Kayla? You used to be sweet and creative and carefree. Now you’re jagged and hard and closed off. We used to be the best of friends. Now you can barely stand to look at me without animosity. What happened? I thought we were in the fight together. You and me against the whole world, remember?”
She jumped to her feet, but she didn’t try to escape. Instead, she started pacing in front of him. “Well that’s just a load of codswallop now, isn’t it? Me, the one who’s changed? Have you looked in a mirror recently, you big dumbhead? If it isn’t the world falling at your feet that’s gone to your knocker, then it’s this new-found religious thing you’ve got going on. When was the last time it was Seth and Kayla anything? Not since the Premier League, I can tell you that.”
His head reared back. “You’re upset because I went pro? That decision changed our lives, Kay. It got us out of the slums. Made it so we didn’t have to worry about where our next meal was coming from or whether Mum would be able to pay rent that month.”
“Yeah, it changed our lives. It took my brother away from me. You went off to the club to train every waking minute of every day. My life became like a spinning top, and the one person I could always count on to be my rock had left me to seek out fortune and fame.”
“I wasn’t looking for fortune and fame, I was looking for stability. To be able to provide for and protect my family.”
“A protector has to be around to fight off the danger, Seth.” She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. Shielding herself.
Seth stood and walked over to her. Wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her to his chest. His insides burned like someone had set a lit match to them. What’d happened? The thought that anything or anyone had dared to hurt his little sister made his fists curl in on themselves.
Kayla didn’t need his anger though, and he couldn’t let his mounting temper prevent his ears from hearing what she needed to say next. No matter how her words would shred him.
He gentled his tone, fear and helplessness clogging his throat. “Kayla, did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I’ll kill them.”
A humorless laugh muffled against his chest. “You can’t, you see.” Her face brushed across his shirt, leaving damp streaks. “Because you went and made another decision without me. Left me behind, yet again.” She stepped out of his arms, her eyes over-bright. “You chose football over me. Religion over me. And now you’ve chosen Amber over me.” She sniffed and studied the night-blooming flower bushes as if she’d suddenly decided to become a botanist.
Jesus, help. He half teased about killing someone, but if Kayla had been hurt, he wasn’t sure he’d have the self-control not to do some bodily harm.
He gripped her upper arms and waited until she met his gaze. “First, I need to know you’re okay. For you, I just might kill first and ask for forgiveness after. Vengeance is God’s be hanged.”
A corner of her mouth ticked upward.
Some of the tension drained from Seth’s shoulder blades. Small smiles were good. “Kayla?”
He felt her unstiffening beneath his hold. “I’m glad to see you would still murder for me.” She paused and his muscles tightened again, bracing against whatever she had to say next. “But it’s not necessary. I just had to learn early on that no one was really interested in me so much as they were interested in using me to get to you.”
Another price tagged to celebrity status and wealth. “I’m sorry you were hurt because of me. That you were used. That wasn’t right.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal, but he wouldn’t believe that lie. She’d been hurt, but the greatest damage had been done by him. Now that she’d voiced what had been bothering her, it made sense. Kind of dumb of him not to figure it out before. Would she let him back in, though? Could they be as close as they once had been, or had too much water flowed under that bridge?
Maybe if he explained he wasn’t choosing something or someone over her…
“Do you want me to breach my contract with the club? Give up football?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a complete eejit. Asking you to give up football is akin to asking you to stop breathing.”
“There’s always pick-up games in the park. Kayla, I’m serious. I never want you to think I’m choosing a sport over my own sister.”
She punched him in the shoulder. “Tosser.”
He grinned. Was that thawing from the Ice Queen? She cared enough to call him names instead of giving him a calloused cold shoulder. “Okay, let me ask you this. If I had come to you for advice when the clubs offered a contract, what would you have told me to do?”
She didn’t even blink. “I would have told you the same thing you would have told me. To follow your dream. To be the best you could be. To show the world who you are and what you have and never back down from the challenge or opportunity presented to you.”
He nodded.
“But you didn’t ask. One day I came home from painting—”
He pinned her with a look.
She grinned. “Fine. I’d been tagging a building. But spray paint is still paint and can make pretty art. Anyway, the point is that I came home, and you were gone. Mum said you’d finally found a way out of our rat hole and I should be happy for you.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I was ten and thought you’d left. That you wouldn’t look back and I’d never see you again.”
He tugged her close and squeezed. “Now who’s the eejit. Like I could ever do something like that.”
She shrugged. It was her go-to motion when words failed.
They were on good ground. Dare he press for more? He sighed. A game was never won by backing off.
“What about...” Words, please, Lord. “What about when I started to learn about Jesus and accepted Him as my Lord and Savior? If I had invited you along on that journey, what would you have said?”
She shook her head. “I guess we’ll never know now, will we?” That shrug again.
He put his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t make them rise and fall anymore. No brushing off the hurt. No more hiding it beneath a layer of chill. “What if I asked you now?”
“To what? Become a Christian?” Since she couldn’t lift her shoulders, she raised her eyebrows. “Like little miss goodie-two-shoes you’re all mooney-eyed over? I’m sorry, Seth, but I live in the real world, not some naïve fantasy where elves and unicorns skip and frolic and play.”
His first reaction was to defend Amber. Just because she’d been sheltered most of her life didn’t mean she had unrealistic views of the world. But Kayla knew how to bait him, and he wouldn’t get caught on her hook. “I mean, what if I invited you to come to church with me?”
“Why?”
“Because even though it seemed like it was j
ust the two of us against everyone else all those years, we were wrong. Someone else was with us the whole time.” He gave her one of his famous half-smirks that the cameras liked to capture. “If you think I’m so awesome, you haven’t seen anything yet, kid. He’s beyond superhero material.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips tilted. “Plonker.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Is that a yes?”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Good enough. For the time being.” He slung his arm over her shoulder. “Now for the last accusation.”
She pushed against his side, but he wouldn’t release his grip.
“Ugh. Don’t you think this heart-to-heart can end already? The blokes at the club will demand your man-card if they catch wind of how long you gabbed about your feelings with your little sister.”
“Like I care what they think. We have years of soul-baring discussions to make up for.”
“Kill me now.”
He squeezed her tight. “There’s the charming girl I know and love.”
They walked along the path toward the house, the engine sound from a passing car climbing over the privacy fence around the garden.
“Amber, though?” Kayla asked. “Are you serious about her?”
If his heart were still in his chest, it would race at just the thought of her. “I told her I love her.”
Kayla wrapped her arm around Seth’s waist. “What did she say?”
He stopped and looked down his sister. The shutters that had hidden her spark for too long were open, and he recognized the sister he’d always been able to talk to as a kid. She was the one who’d comforted him by telling him what a break he’d gotten when Cindy Bayless turned him down at the school dance. He’d gone home in low spirits after she’d called him a dirty gutter rat. Kayla had come back by saying things about Cindy he wouldn’t dare repeat. He grabbed Kayla’s wrist and pulled her into the house. “Come on. I got you something when Mum told me you were coming.”
He led her into a spare room, hands covering her eyes. After turning on the light, he lowered his hand. “Ta-da.” He watched her as she took in the room. Her eyes misted over, and his breath caught. Would she finally accept this gift from him instead of turning and storming away? Or worse, throwing everything in it against the wall in a rage?
An easel sat beside a large window, the curtains drawn back. Paints in all forms—watercolors, acrylic, oils—lined storage shelves along the wall. Then there were sketch pads and charcoals. Pencils. Clay. He’d pretty much bought one of everything in the art store. Again.
She circled the room, brushing her hand over palette knives and colored tubes. She paused and lifted her face, her head tilting. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“This” being the third room he’d outfitted with a wonderland of art for her. “Because you’re my sister, and though I am an eejit, like you say, I’m an eejit who loves you, believes in you, and who will never give up on you.”
Her hand dropped and she barreled into him, her arms wrapping and squeezing around his waist. He closed his eyes and settled his hand to hug her back.
She sniffed, then pulled away enough to look up at him. “But you never answered my question. From earlier.”
Could a smile feel sad? His did. “After I told Amber I loved her, a little banshee started screaming. Talk about a mood killer.” He winked so she’d know he was joking and didn’t blame her for anything. But Kayla’s lips didn’t so much as twitch. He sighed. “She said she didn’t want to be a distraction while you and I fixed our relationship, and thought it would be best if the only time we ever saw each other was with the kids on the pitch at the center.”
“Do I need to start calling her names?” Obviously she’d been thinking about Cindy Bayless too.
“Don’t you dare,” he growled.
“So, what are you going to do now?”
Apparently shrugging is a Marshall family trait, he thought as his shoulder rose and fell. “She has possession of the ball now.”
“Always the footballer.” Kayla shook her head at him. “Fine, if you want to go with that analogy, then answer me this. Since when does the great Seth Marshall not try to steal the ball back?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holy Roman Empire, 1527
Christyne trembled beneath the weight of Kampff’s hand. She glanced to the side, and her gaze slammed into blue orbs. None of the fear she felt coursing through her body shone out of Lorenz’s eyes. Instead, he stared at her with a quiet inner peace, connecting them in that moment, with that look, and imbuing her with his strength and conviction.
He did not fight the landsknecht who twisted his arm, gripping the skin until the flesh turned white beneath the soldier’s fingers. Would he not struggle, a lamb to the slaughter?
Christyne’s muscles tensed around her bones, ready to strike. To run. But Kampff’s hold was like a vice. A predator refusing to release his prey.
Her feet stumbled beneath her. If not for that grip, she would have pitched forward and landed with her face upon the cobblestone, but she could not say she was thankful for the assistance, even then.
The revelry changed around them as they passed through the crowd. Before them, the people laughed and cheered, celebrating the union of two great families through marriage. In their wake, the crowd quieted. Murmured wonderings at the groom’s daughter being marched toward the castle like a criminal to an executioner.
For though they were unbound by ropes or chains, she and Lorenz were no longer free.
What would become of them? Would her father show mercy for his own flesh and blood, or would he make good his promise to rid his lands of all those who thought to bring reform to the Church?
A low din filled the great hall, the cacophony of many voices, each trying to rise above their neighbors’. Tables swelled with food. Roasted venison and lamb. Wild hare and swans. Chalices overflowed with amber liquid and clinked as they resettled upon the tops of the table.
“The heretics have been found!” Kampff shouted as he shoved Christyne into the middle of the merriment.
Her knees hit the hard ground, jarring her bones as her palms slid across the rushes. The inside of her cheek caught between her teeth, a metallic taste exploding across her tongue as she swallowed down her own blood.
Her breath filled her ears, drowning out the noises around her until they were a low hum. Yesterday a princess, today treated like an animal on all fours. She was awash in a swirling pool of differing emotions. Embarrassment. Anger. Fear. But beneath them all, at the center, lay an unearthly serenity that she could not explain, for the feeling did not come from her. Yet another gift from the Heavenly Father.
Gentle fingers embraced her upper arm. Offered her strength where her own muscles quivered.
“We are not alone,” Lorenz whispered as he helped her to her feet. His thumb caressed her skin with a gentle stroke before he let his hand drop.
They were not. Just as their Lord was with the three Hebrews in the fiery furnace, He was with them. Their end may not have the same miraculous result, but whatever the outcome, may it be for His glory.
She closed her eyes and allowed her muscles to uncoil. Like a wildflower bending in the breeze, she submitted to whatever the Lord would have happen here in this place. Her spine remained straight, but she lost the rigidity that bound her muscles. Though accused, she would not stand before these people afraid.
Not when God was by her side.
“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Ernst bellowed. “Herzog Kampff, I hope you can explain yourself and your mistreatment of my daughter.”
“My treatment of this heretic is more than she deserves,” he sneered in reply.
The prince’s eye ticked, and he stared at Christyne as he addressed the duke. “What say you?”
“She has been seduced by the words of this heretic for whom we have been searching.” Kampff nodded to his soldier, who then kicked Lorenz in the back of the knees, dro
pping him to the ground.
Shouts of outrage filled the hall. Bishop Wilmer rose from his seat, thunderclouds eclipsing his face. Prince Ernst stayed the bishop with a motion of his hand, but given the chance, Christyne was sure the man of the church would build a pyre with his own two hands on which to burn them.
“Have you proof?” Her father set his regard upon her once more.
Did she detect concern in his eyes? His gaze flicked away from her, to Clare at his side, and his brow furrowed. He did not think her responsible, did he? Surely his vexation would not turn to his new bride as well.
Christyne refused to look at Clare lest she bring even more attention to that woman. Even so, she caught the glistening of tears upon Clare’s cheeks.
A wedding should be a day to remember. But not for this.
Nay, never for this.
“Better than proof.” Kampff preened. “I have a witness.” He flicked his wrist and two landsknechte stepped forth from the shadows, a third person between them. They dragged the body into the middle of the room and dumped him on the ground. A moan escaped his lips.
A shrill cry sounded from a corner before the flurry of motion pressed to the center. Hette dropped to her knees, pulling the man’s head to her lap.
Nikolaus?
Christyne peered closer. So mangled and disfigured was the man that his features were difficult to decipher. But, aye, he had Nikolaus’s long nose, though now bent at a crooked angle. And Nikolaus’s height and build, though now he seemed more a shell than a man.
What had Kampff done to him? Beaten and bloody and broken.
Christyne’s chest ached. What evil lay in the heart of man, that a person could treat another thus? In the name of God. In the name of holiness.
Disgust coiled within.
Nikolaus shifted, a cut above his right eye dripping with blood. Pain-filled eyes met hers, and his lips moved, albeit no sound came from his tongue.
Hette raised her face, angry red splotches upon her skin and rivulets of emotion trailing her cheeks. She swept the room, accusation darting from her gaze before she bent at the waist and wept over her brother’s broken body.
