by Nicole Locke
To be his own personal guard. To watch when the men failed to watch. She’d taken extra pride in those moments. Felt that pride as her father lavished praise on her for the extra sacrifices. Felt superior because those men enjoying the fire were weak. Her father knew they were weak and only trusted her to be truly vigilant.
Yes, he had trained her the severest of them all. It was logical his cruelty would be just as harsh.
‘Hmm,’ he murmured and Cressida snapped out of her reverie. She cricked her neck and searched the room for any differences. The shutters remained in the same position, the latch on the door stayed still. All the while she was disturbed she had let her thoughts drift enough that she’d lost track of her surroundings and the man who watched her all too closely.
‘I hope that you felt the loss of my careful guiding hand,’ her father continued. ‘My protection. My coin. You’ve been wandering all over England on these useless tasks, all the while wondering where your home was any more. I have to admit, it was one of my more brilliant schemes.’
If it truly was one of his schemes, it had worked. She’d felt every pebble under her foot, every bitter cold rain that fell upon her unsheltered head.
Mostly, always, she felt the lack of this man who had been a constant for as long as she had memory. This man who she could not trust or believe.
‘One of your mercenaries confessed to the note, told me more about your hatred of me, about the child you stole,’ she said.
A slight tightening in his brow was the only indication of her father’s displeasure. ‘You killed him, I hope.’
Eldric had killed him and now she wondered why. The man had been spitting each hateful word, words that had felt like cuts against her soul, and Eldric had thrown that dagger. There was no reason for it. Still...
‘He’s dead,’ she said.
A gleam of victory in his pale eyes. ‘Good, I will not have my first daughter lied to.’
Her father’s expression seemed to have eased, but the tenseness in his shoulders remained. Because of what the mercenary had told her, or because he truly did care for her?
If she hadn’t conversed with Eldric, if she hadn’t received the message, there would be none of this doubt. She would know, with absolute certainty, that he was angry someone had lied to her.
She’d seen the punishment of any man who had looked at her. And the one mercenary who had dared nod his head in acknowledgement when she approached the camp for food? He was never seen again.
She’d revelled in her father’s protection of her. Now, now she hated that it was all in doubt. She should be certain, shouldn’t she? But she’d been certain about Eldric and look what that got her.
‘I am pleased you finished him,’ he said. ‘It reveals that you are embracing your proper way of life again. Perhaps it is time for you to travel with us once more.’
Her first reaction was to reject him, only because there was still doubt she could trust him. The note had been too cruel, the mercenary’s words too cutting. Even if it was all a lesson, she still felt the slash of the whip. Her father’s rejection was a cut and she didn’t know if it would ever heal.
And if she did reject him, where did that leave her? With no coin, no shelter. No skills to get her through the rest of her existence. No one would hire a woman who could throw a dagger. She couldn’t clean, sew, cook. She knew nothing of men. She didn’t own a gown with skirts to toss for anyone. Moreover, with her scars, what price could she charge?
And in the darkest of her days, when starvation or cold got the best of her, she’d have no dreams of a warrior who whistled. No man who was good because even that was gone. Eldric was a lie.
Eldric, who would recover from the poison, who would pursue her once again, his vengeance fiercer because she had escaped. She’d ensure it would be that much more difficult to catch her again. She wouldn’t be lulled next time because there was a part of her that believed she had wanted him to catch her in the tree. But not now. Not ever again.
To survive she’d need the protection of her father’s force once again. Could she join now knowing that he might reject her once again?
She liked to pretend she was wiser now. No, she was wiser. She could take his protection, but she wouldn’t do it blindly. There was more here than just herself now and that posed a problem. She had come to rescue her sister, to escape Eldric. Yet...her father compelled her as he always did. He was her father. Her family. He might have rejected her, but she now knew she hadn’t truly rejected him. The child complicated everything, but perhaps...perhaps she didn’t need to be alone.
‘I did feel the sting of your lesson, Father,’ she said. ‘Very much.’
His lips curved. ‘And?’
‘It is a lesson I do not want again,’ she answered. The conviction of her voice did not waver. And it wouldn’t as long as she kept to the truth.
He rested his elbows on the chair’s arms and steepled his fingers against his lips, but it did not hide his quick smile. ‘That pleases me very much.’
‘It pleases me to please you,’ she said. Again the truth.
‘Of course, you know I cannot completely trust you now.’ He waved his fingers. ‘Did you think it would be that easy? You’d find me, you’d offer a few words telling of your inconvenience? You haven’t even apologised.’
Inconvenience. The months had been sheer torture for her, but the word was a testament to the difficulty of pleasing this man.
She sank to the floor, clasped her hands behind her back and bowed her head. If he wanted to whip her again, he could. She’d let him. ‘I am sorry, dear Father. I was sorry the day that I displeased you. But in the weeks, months since then, there is no word in all the lands to represent my sorrow for your displeasure. So, I offer all that I have left: me. My service, my skills, my body from now until my death. And if you so wish, I will haunt all your enemies for all eternity.’
He uncrossed his legs, but she did not look up. Not even when he stood and circled her. How easy he could take a dagger to her. How easy he could end her life, but she kept her hands clasped. If he attacked, she couldn’t defend herself in time.
He would know this. Perhaps that was why he took a dagger to her neck, held the point there until he pricked her skin. Until she bled, the hot trickle sliding down along her collar and dripping to the floor.
Still, she held steady and did not defend herself. Still, she remembered Eldric holding the blade to her neck, but not damaging her even when his anger was at its height.
That memory hurt worse than the sting of her father’s blade. Eldric might have never permanently harmed her body, but he had destroyed her far worse.
The release of the blade stopped the sting, but not the trickle of blood that took several more moments.
‘Very well, first daughter.’ She waited until he sat again before raising her head.
She expected his expression to hold a mocking victory, or a fatherly gleam of pride. Instead, he looked paler than before, his wide eyes swirling emotions that were partly controlled, partly wild. As if something she’d done scared him. She had done what she had always done with him: submit. Why would he be looking at her this way now?
‘Have I suffered enough, Father? From the cold, from the lack of food. With no protection. Without your firm hand to guide me. Has the blood I spilled here pleased you?’
‘Perhaps.’ Again he steepled his fingers to his mouth.
She wasn’t deterred by the word, not with the slight tremble in his right hand. ‘If it pleases you, may I travel with you once again? May I climb the dark trees and protect my father’s camp?’
His expression stayed the same. She didn’t need to know his emotions, she just needed to know his actions. Needed to control her own. Just because she was within her father’s care once again didn’t mean she’d forget these last months.
‘You may protect your
father’s camp. You may not protect me. You are not trustworthy as yet, first daughter. That right must be earned.’
If she was to protect the camp, but not him... ‘Will my father not be attending camp?’
‘That is no concern of yours. Just know, with reservations, you are now in the fold once again. You should be pleased.’
Standing, she laced her fingers behind her back. A reminder of what he liked when he whipped her.
His eyes lowered to her chest. Stayed there. ‘Yes, very pleased, and your protection will please my camp.’
His voice, his eyes—nothing about either of them had changed from before. This was her father. Or at least, the father she’d had. The one she knew the best. But Cressida had been in another’s company and now she could compare her father to Eldric. Neither good, but...her father’s gaze was not natural. His words were innocuous, the meaning of them depraved.
And Cressida realised everything. Her posture was not reminding him of her submission to him, but that she was a woman. The outline of her breasts stark against her tunic and he watched her. Watched her as he had been doing these last few years.
Her hands, clasped behind her, shook.
Chapter Fourteen
To think for one brief moment being before him she’d almost, almost, truly returned to his care. His voice, his attention. He’d almost turned her again. This man wasn’t good. No matter how much she longed for it, no matter how much she wished otherwise. He meant to give her to the camp and, now she realised with the darkening of his eyes as they rested along her body, he might have kept her to himself not for her safety, but for him...as a man.
The roil of her stomach wasn’t anger, it was sickness. She breathed through her mouth, calmed the shaking of her body.
Her sister was now in his care. Her sister was to be raised as she had been, to be loved, to be... Never!
How long had she heard the rumour and denied it existed? How many months had the child been exposed to the abomination before her? Was it too late?
Her sister...maybe...she hoped upon hope because she was so young that the child was untainted by her father. Didn’t he say she came from a happy home?
Whatever it took, by whatever means, she’d protect her sister. Protect her and get her far, far away.
‘If it pleases you, I will protect your camp even in your absence.’ Slowly she disengaged her arms and brought them to her sides. ‘And of your other daughter. Will I also be providing protection for her?’
He frowned. ‘No one looked after you.’
Save for the nuns in the abbeys, whom she realised must have given her more protection than she’d ever realised. And all this time, she and her father had greatly mocked them.
‘But you stated she is from a happy home. That would make her weaker than me, who has had the benefit of your training,’ she said, playing into his ego.
‘True.’ He turned contemplative. ‘They shouldn’t have been happy. I sired a babe and the woman married and built a home.’
‘That angered you,’ she said. He’d want the woman he raped to be unhappy, alone, scared. Was that how her mother had been when he found her and killed her?
He wagged a finger at her. ‘You know me so well, Daughter, but their happiness was merely an annoyance. What angered me was the environment she lived in. A hut in a valley? A mix of clans, a tiny village. No strength, no wealth. I didn’t breed with a commoner. I never would. But she’d married one. I could never tolerate such an existence for my offspring!’
‘But you did not take her then. I would have helped you!’ She made her voice as conciliatory as possible.
‘Unfortunately, she was too well protected and I couldn’t rid myself of the mother and husband without some distraction. Thus, I involved more mercenaries than I’d have liked.’
Cressida’s stomach flipped. ‘When was this?’
‘It was Doonhill. Don’t you remember? The King was already in a rage over Scotland and sanctioned that massacre in Berwick. So I thought I’d have one myself.’ Her father shook his head. ‘No, that’s right, you weren’t with me.’
If she had been, would she have betrayed her father and saved her sister’s new family?
He exhaled. ‘Because I had to involve my men, it became complicated. I didn’t want her killed, she was mine and therefore worthy of life. But it wasn’t necessary to keep the child since I had you. All these decisions to make when my lookouts warned me of riders approaching, so I left her.’
He grabbed the nearest goblet and sniffed the contents inside. ‘I’ll confess I thought it a weakness that I didn’t kill her, but now realise, with your betrayal, it was fortuitous.’
Her father was a madman. She had been raised by a monster. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Maybe she had. Maybe she was fascinated by Eldric’s strength and loyalty because her father had none. She must save her sister, but to do so, she’d have to lead him where she wanted him to go.
‘Now that I am with you, we could leave her again.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Jealous, Cressida?’
The widening of her eyes wasn’t false—he never said her name—but she used it to keep her appearance innocent. ‘Your daughter is my sister and family. What is her name?’
He took a deep sip and wiped his mouth with the side of his hand. ‘Can’t remember girls’ names. Why couldn’t I have bred men? It doesn’t matter. I’ll change her name, just as I changed yours.’
She went cold. Cressida. She’d change her name if she lived through this. She almost laughed. She wasn’t going to live. Her only hope was to free the child before the end so she wouldn’t be raised by this monster.
‘You took me, named me. Weren’t you disappointed I was a girl? She’s a girl and too young yet to train. She seems...burdensome now.’
He tapped the goblet against his palm. ‘You are jealous! I like that. I like that very much. No, we will not leave her behind. And... I’m...yes, I want you to take care of her. Any harm to her and it’ll be your life. But it is too soon, isn’t it? I may need—’
He stood suddenly, held up his hand. ‘Did you hear that?’
Irritated at herself for obeying him, she listened. When she heard nothing, she wanted to fight his authority, but she was playing a game she intended to win. ‘Do you want my protection now, Father? I can go outside and investigate.’
He gave her an enigmatic look and strode towards the door.
She didn’t care what was happening outside, she needed more time to convince him. ‘I can give you protection the way I always have before.’
He looked to the door, but no sounds broke through. He cupped the goblet once again. ‘My men are next door; they’ll provide me enough. And you...betrayed me. I’ve got a scar because of you. I don’t even know if you’re worthy of being in the fold.’
She’d followed her father blindly until that day. But seeing Mairead Buchanan brandish her weapon, hear her grief over her brother as she accused Cressida’s father of his death...she hadn’t been able to release her arrow. For one, it was true. Her father’s man had killed the brother who had somehow got hold of the dagger hiding the Jewel of Kings within its handle. And for another, at her distance and hidden away, Cressida could only hear every other word exchanged. But it was the way Mairead said it. With fire and vehemence, with desperation. Cressida had felt Mairead’s agony, her wrath. She...had felt. Thus, when her father raised his blade to Mairead, Cressida released her arrow and struck her father. Just a graze, but enough to stop him and let the woman and the man she was with escape.
Something inside Cressida woke up at Mairead’s voice that day. She didn’t fully understand it then; she did now. As she faced her father, as she truly understood all that he was, a roiling of emotions flooded her as well. Now, she felt all too much.
She wished, with everything in her, she could brandish a dagger. Instead, she
needed to think of her sister, to hold back and have him believe she was his once again. And, when the time was safe for her sister, to release an arrow into her father’s black heart.
Her arrow.
‘I did not mean to scar you, Father. I released that arrow to remind you.’
‘A reminder?’
‘You controlled that village. You didn’t need that woman or the man trying to protect her. She didn’t know what she was saying, she was grieving for her brother. Her death would have been a complication.’
‘That woman was Mairead Buchanan, as you well know, and she held the secret to the Jewel of Kings. Her brother stole the dagger holding that gem.’
‘That gem is just a legend. Who believes in legends any more?’
He scoffed. ‘The King of England does. He believes in Excalibur and wants that gem so he can rule Scotland. Doesn’t matter what we believe. And you knew how important it was.’
‘You weren’t going to give it to the King, you were giving it to the Warstones.’
His wide eyes gazed rabidly around them. ‘Quiet!’ Her father brandished the goblet over his head as if to strike her. ‘Spies everywhere and you say their name.’
She had said it because she knew it would rile him. ‘If they come, I will protect you, not that child.’
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Almost believable.’ He lowered the goblet and stepped back. His eyes still looked around him, searching for their enemies, no doubt.
Despite herself, she listened just as hard as he, but heard nothing.
‘You forget, however, that I know you too well,’ he said. ‘My men said there was a man who accompanied you. Were you captured or was this person an ally?’
Person. Her father would have gleefully commented if he’d known the identity of her captive. The fact he didn’t know about Eldric was a traitorous relief. She didn’t owe any loyalty to Eldric now and she’d prove that.
‘Captured by a man who thought to ransom me.’
