by Jeanne Hardt
Korvin stood to the side and drew his bow. His arm quivered so badly, Sebastian feared he might impale him. “Lower your weapon, Korvin,” he grunted, while wrestling to keep Roderick held firm. Korvin did as he asked, and that alone eased some of his tension.
“Let me go!” Roderick persisted.
Wittek lay flat on his back with a blade protruding from deep under his ribcage. If he had been the one who had freed Donovan, the knife had been a just punishment. Yet it made no sense for Roderick to do it. Sebastian had thought the two men fought on the same side.
Wittek breathed heavily, struggling for air—gurgling. He met Sebastian’s gaze and tried to speak. Blood bubbled from his mouth. “Roderick . . . do not . . . tru . . .”
Roderick jerked up his knee and rammed it into Wittek’s groin.
Wittek grunted, spit blood, then his body stilled.
“Why do you restrain me?” Roderick huffed. “I stand with you. My loyalty is to the king.”
“You lie,” Sebastian hissed. The fresh wound on Roderick’s cheek blared at him. Roderick may have forgotten their fight, but he had not.
Alwin approached with his sword in hand. “Roderick?” He moved to Wittek. “Is he dead?”
“Yes. I killed him.” Roderick spat out the words. “He was a traitor. He released Donovan and was coming for the king.”
Sebastian was not about to trust him, even though he felt certain Wittek had freed Donovan. He finally managed to stand, keeping Roderick in his grip. “Why should I believe you? Only a few short hours ago you called me evil and claimed many gathered to stand against me. And now you claim you fight with me to protect the king?”
Roderick’s body relaxed in his locked arms. “I heard Donovan killed his father. It made me realize I had given my support to the wrong man.”
“So, you changed your loyalty?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I serve you and the king.” He tipped his head to the right. “My sword is over there. Take it. I will not fight you.”
“Did you call out the words of warning?” Sebastian loosened his hold.
Roderick bobbed his head. “Wittek was about to draw his bow. He saw you in the thicket. I had to stop him.”
Sebastian nodded to Alwin to take Roderick’s sword. Alwin quickly obliged. With his weapon secure, Sebastian released Roderick.
Roderick rubbed his arms and grinned. “You have quite a grip, Your Highness.”
Sebastian chose not to respond. He looked around the clearing, which held the stench of fresh blood. Wittek’s life trickled away into the undergrowth. “Where is his bow?”
“Huh?” Roderick’s head drew back.
“You said he was about to fire upon me. So, where is his bow?”
Roderick knelt down and tossed aside leaves on the ground. How dense did he believe Sebastian to be? A bow would not easily be misplaced beneath a few scattered leaves.
Several minutes passed as Roderick continued his false search. “He must have thrown it somewhere.” He stood and shrugged.
“And what of Donovan? Where is he?”
“I do not know. Though Wittek probably knew.” He chuckled. “A shame he can no longer speak.”
The man sickened Sebastian. The sooner he could distance himself from Roderick, the better he would feel.
They had no need to stay here any longer. Wittek had been found, and without knowledge of Donovan’s whereabouts, they might as well return to the courtyard and gather more men for a search.
“Alwin, Korvin, can you carry him?” Sebastian pointed at Wittek’s body.
“Yes, Your Highness,” they said in unison.
Alwin sheathed his sword and Korvin threw his bow over his shoulder. Another funeral pyre would need to be made. This one would not have the respect of the people.
Sebastian took hold of Roderick’s arm.
“What are you doing?” Roderick scowled.
“Making certain you retain your loyalty. I believe the king will want to know what transpired here.”
Roderick frowned and plodded along.
Sebastian would never trust him.
* * *
Sebastian kept his head high as they paraded into the courtyard. Few women remained, and some of the men had also departed, but many gathered around the king. He separated the men into groups, then sent them on their way in different directions.
For once, the enormous gorge proved to be a blessing. Donovan could not escape and would eventually be found.
As they neared, all eyes moved to Wittek’s body. Mumbling and some cursing arose, but the men kept their composure.
The king sighed and shook his head as Korvin and Alwin set Wittek on the ground. Then his eyes narrowed at Roderick.
Roderick jerked free from Sebastian’s grasp and fell to one knee before the king. He bowed his head and stared downward. “Your Majesty, I offer my service.”
The king questioned Sebastian with his eyes, and Sebastian retold his version of the events that had taken place.
Roderick kept silent.
“Rise, Roderick, and stand before me.” The king eyed him as he rose to his feet. “Where is your weapon?”
Alwin stepped forward. “Here, sire.” He handed it to the king.
The king examined the blade and then returned it to Alwin, who cast a curious stare, but took the blade nonetheless.
“I shall return this to you, Roderick, when I decide you have earned it. Is it true you warned Prince Sebastian of possible danger?” The king folded his arms across his chest and breathed deeply.
“Yes, Your Majesty. As I told the prince, I now serve him as well as you.” Roderick dipped his head, then returned his eyes to the ground.
“Then you may begin your service by building a funeral pyre for Wittek. And before you set it ablaze, you shall pay a visit to his mother. You will tell her how her son died, and you shall do so with utmost respect for her.”
“How do I tell her? I am the one who killed him. She will not be pleased.” For a large man, Roderick seemed incredibly small.
Sebastian found the king’s orders to be ingenious. They not only made the man face his deed, but squirm in the process. One day, the truth would show itself.
“Of course, she will not be pleased,” the king said. “Neither am I. A dead man cannot be questioned.”
The king appointed Valen—who was almost as large as Roderick—to watch over him and confirm he accomplished his task. Valen had a much steadier hand than Korvin, and when he drew his blade, showed no fear. He led Roderick away to gather wood.
The courtyard cleared of everyone sent out in search of Donovan.
“Sebastian?” The king gestured to the castle. “Accompany me to the great hall.”
“Yes, sire.” He followed the man, sensing his need to further discuss what had happened between Wittek and Roderick.
He had gained a greater respect for King Boden. The king may have briefly doubted his ability to rule, however, today he had shown how much he loved his people.
Korvin and Alwin trailed along, but kept their distance behind them.
The king rubbed his beard. “Do you believe Roderick’s tale?”
Sebastian let out a small chuckle. “You call it a tale, so I know where you stand. But, no, I do not trust anything he says. Just this morning, he wanted me dead.”
“Would you suggest we shackle him?”
“He claims allegiance to you, Your Majesty. Perhaps the best course of action at this time is to watch him closely, but give him no access to a weapon. If his loyalty lies with Donovan, he may lead us to him.”
The king draped his arm over Sebastian’s shoulder. “You think like a king.”
“Thank you, sire. I have had a great example to follow. My father is a magnificent king. Fair and just. And, as a father, a loving man who would punish me for wrongdoing. I hope to have his qualities one day.”
“You are well on your way.” King Boden patted his back and smiled. “Now, I feel my daughter would very much a
ppreciate your company.”
Olivia rapidly approached. Her expression brightened at the sight of them together. And then, confusion filled her eyes and she hesitated. She seemed perplexed as to whom she should embrace first.
The king must have seen it, too, because he laughed and motioned toward Sebastian.
Olivia quickly hugged him. Sebastian would be certain to thank the king later.
She rested her head on Sebastian’s chest. “I was so worried.” The warmth from her body washed away all the stress of the day. He moved his fingers through her hair.
“Go on and kiss her,” the king said. “I know you want to. Besides, you earned it. And you have most definitely earned my respect and trust.”
Olivia bashfully pinched her lips tight, then lifted her face and shrugged. “The king has spoken.” She grinned and licked her lips, no longer shy.
“I shall leave you two,” the king said and strode away.
“Good,” Sebastian whispered.
Though given permission, he much preferred private intimacy. With the king well on his way down the corridor, Sebastian wasted no time. Unfortunately, kissing led to thoughts of other things. But, he no longer cared. He would gladly take whatever she offered.
“Mmm . . .” He moved his mouth over hers. “You taste like strawberries.”
She drew her hand across his chest, back and forth as if petting an animal. “I was hungry. After all, we had not eaten all day. Everything transpired so quickly. You must be famished.”
The sensation her caresses created had him craving more than nourishment. Though—now that she mentioned it—he indeed needed food.
He closed his eyes, savoring her touch. “Are there any strawberries remaining?” He swallowed hard. Her hand moved to his abdomen and continued its tormenting movement.
“Some.” She brushed her lips along his neck.
Was she intentionally trying to peak his desire? She had to be aware of the effect her actions created.
He inhaled deeply, then took hold of her hands and stepped back. “Olivia, though I truly enjoy what you are doing, you must stop. You have me at a disadvantage.”
She dropped her eyes and tipped her head. “Forgive me. Memories of our first kiss fill my thoughts. The desire to touch you overwhelms me.”
“I know that desire well.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “We stand in the great hall. A place where at any moment a guard, or lady, or perhaps even Daisy might appear. We cannot risk our passions being openly displayed.” He kissed her forehead.
Olivia released a soft sigh. “Daisy is no longer an issue. Mother allowed me to return her to her family. And before you scold me, I promise I did not leave the castle. Gerard escorted her home.”
In all the activity, Sebastian had forgotten about the queen. A woman devastated by the loss of a . . . lover? “How is your mother?” He was genuinely concerned, but also grateful to change the course of their conversation.
“Broken.” Olivia took his hand and led him to the chaise. “She is resting in her room. Gerard is guarding her door.” She grinned. “The Lady Margaret seems to have accepted his affections. I noticed more than one exchanged glance, and they were not out of simple courtesy. She looked at him as you did me moments ago.”
“And how was that?” He raised his brows.
She leaned in and rested her hand against his chest. “With longing.” And like day transformed into night, she curtly sat upright and folded her hands. “That shall have to wait. For us that is. For all I know the two of them have already made their pledge and satisfied their desires.”
In many ways, she was playing with him, yet he liked this side of her. Not only did she act intelligent and courageous, she managed to find joy in the midst of turmoil. And humor. This could be her way of coping with tension, and in the future, they would be able to cope together. A playful woman in his bed could easily remove even the smallest amount of stress.
He took her hand. “Thank you for remaining here. Until Donovan is found, you must stay.”
She inched closer and rested her head on his shoulder, no longer playful. “I am not foolish in regard to Donovan. But I cannot dismiss the friendship we had for so many years. It pains me to believe evil has fully overtaken him. Though he said he would, do you truly feel he would harm me?”
“A man running for his life is the most dangerous kind of man. Olivia, you may have once seen good in him, but he killed his father, and therefore I surmise he has no conscience. Yes, I fear he may harm you if given the opportunity.”
She nestled even nearer. “I will feel much safer when Basilia arrives.”
“Worry not. I shall protect you.”
Her arms encircled him and held him tight, and she said nothing more.
He intended to hold her until she was ready to release him. No matter how long it took.
Chapter 30
When the bell rang out for the evening meal, everyone gathered in the dining hall. Until Dane healed, the baker’s ovens would be kept unlit, and no bread would be served. A silent tribute to Doran.
Olivia’s father insisted Sebastian sit at the head table beside her. She offered no argument. She sat proudly by his side and took strange delight in watching the young women of Padrida look at him longingly. It pleased her to know she would never have to share him with another woman.
Her mother chose to stay in her room. When asked about her well-being, Olivia simply stated she was still recovering from illness.
Rosalie also remained absent, dutifully by Dane’s side. They had been granted a room in the castle, and in the quiet of their chamber Olivia’s father performed the rite of marriage. Olivia and Sebastian stood as witnesses, then left them alone.
It would be a while before Dane fully healed, but their smiles proved they were both well on their way to recovery. Hopefully, it would be a very long time before Rosalie shed more painful tears.
The sun had started to set, and the impending darkness elevated Olivia’s unrest. Donovan had not yet been found.
Sebastian accompanied her to her room. She wished he could stay with her through the night, but they hovered in her open doorway.
He gently stroked her hair. “Please try to sleep. I can see in your eyes that your body is weary.”
“I shan’t be able to sleep. There were no reports of even a glimmer of him.”
“Within these walls, you are safe. Alwin will guard your door. I trust him. If anything should happen, he will call out, and I shall be here faster than you can blink.”
“I know I should not fear, but—”
“The barriers have been placed on the doors. No man can break through.” He kissed her forehead. “I will sleep but a little, then come to relieve Alwin. When you wake in the morning, I shall be here.”
She glanced at Alwin, who stood a small distance down the corridor. He smiled and patted the hilt of his sword.
Sighing, she burrowed into Sebastian’s arms. “I long for the days when I shall wake beside you in my bed.”
He took her hand and kissed her palm. “Soon. When we put all of this to rest, we will have time for one another.”
Their eyes locked for a mere moment, then he bade her goodnight with a kiss that left her breathless and walked away.
Heart heavy, she went into her chamber and shut the door.
“Your Highness,” Alwin said from the other side. “Have no worries. I shall not move from here.”
She pressed her palm to the wood. “Thank you, Alwin.”
If she was safe, why did her stomach roil?
The room grew darker by the moment, so she lit several candles, then readied herself for bed. Exhaustion plagued her, yet she doubted she could manage sleep.
A warm soothing breeze drifted in through her window. Dressed in a comfortable gown, she climbed atop her bed and pulled the canopy around her. Its sheerness allowed the air to circulate in her room, but kept the night’s mosquitoes from biting.
The softness of the pillows beckone
d her, and she found herself drifting.
* * *
“Did you miss me, my love?”
Olivia blissfully smiled.
“Sebastian,” she muttered.
“Only in your dreams.”
She jerked and her eyes popped wide open.
Donovan.
Her heart pounded. She had been dreaming, but no longer.
She had woken to her worst nightmare.
She lay on her side, still in her bed. Donovan’s body pressed to hers from behind—one arm beneath her, holding her tight.
The tip of a blade nicked her throat, and she gasped.
Donovan let out a sickening chuckle. “If you scream, I will slice your neck and you shall never utter another sound.” He spoke low, hissing the words into her ear.
She wanted to yell, yet fear kept her silent. Her bosom heaved with every large breath. No matter how brave she tried to be, she could not calm her heart.
“All I ever wanted was to share your bed.” He thrust his hips and pushed hard against her. “How do you like having my arms about you, and my mouth so close I can taste you?” With every word he whispered, she prayed Alwin would hear.
Donovan brushed his lips over her neck. “Delicious.”
She shuddered, which only emboldened him. He drew back the arm beneath her body and cupped over her breast with his hand. His fingers slightly moved, then he squeezed.
She whimpered, scrunched her eyes tight and suppressed tears.
“What troubles you, my love? Do you not desire my touch?”
“No.” She huffed out heavy breaths. Anger removed every trace of moisture from her eyes.
Her mind spun—torn between crying out and risking Donovan’s blade ending her life, or succumbing to whatever he intended to do.
Once again, he put his mouth to her ear. “Perhaps I shall try another way to please you.” He pushed her onto her back.
The candles had burned low and glowed with diminished light. Enough to witness the evil in his eyes. And like her wretched dream, Donovan was dressed in solid black. Dark as the night itself.
She trembled uncontrollably.
“Shh . . .” He slyly smiled and pressed a single finger to his lips.
