Page 4 of The Warrior's Innocent Captive
Chapter Two
Erik passed a brush over his horse’s already glistening coat. Cai didn’t protest even as Erik went over the same area again and again.
That necklace! He hadn’t seen it in years. Images, long buried, assailed him. Mary, his sweet little sister with brown eyes so huge in her thin face, had loved horses. Whenever he’d had a spare minute he’d tucked her tiny hand in his and taken her down to the stables—anything to see joy on her face during a childhood of hardship. The stable master hadn’t minded the two quiet children and, if he wasn’t busy, he would hold Mary up so that she could stroke a docile mare’s nose. Those quiet, still moments were Erik’s favourite memories from his early years. Hell, they were his only good memories of that time.
Erik had carved Mary the small wooden horse and had managed to scrape enough coins together to buy a thin chain. He’d presented it to her one Christmastide. From the time he’d given it to her until he’d last seen her she’d worn it around her neck. It had cost him almost nothing to make, but to her it was priceless.
He leaned his forehead against Cai’s flank. He’d sworn to his sister that he would always protect her. He’d failed. Within a year after he’d given her the carved horse she’d been sold into a marriage with a much older man. She’d begged Erik to come and get her as soon as he could. He’d sworn that he would. It was a promise he’d not been able to fulfil. No matter how much he’d searched, he couldn’t find her. His bastard of a father had made sure her location was hidden. He’d never wanted Erik to be happy. Now the man was dead so Erik couldn’t beat the truth out of him no matter how much he wanted to.
‘Here you are, Erik Ward. You’re a hard man to find.’
Erik whirled round, pulling a dagger from his belt and pressing it into the throat of the stranger from last night.
‘Where is my sister?’ he growled.
A sleepless night had done nothing for his temper. He wanted to gut this man for playing games over something so important. As much as his arm shook with the desire to plunge his dagger into the stranger’s thick neck, however, he didn’t. He needed him alive for now.
There was no answer to his question. Only a slight thinning of the man’s lips showed that Erik’s words had registered at all, or perhaps it was the blade pressing into him that drew his attention.
‘Where is she? And what have you done to her? She would never have parted from that necklace. Never!’
‘You will not manhandle me into giving you any answers, Erik Ward.’
Erik counted to ten in his mind to stop himself from running the runt through. He shoved the man away from him before he could give into the temptation. ‘Start speaking.’
‘I’m Simon de Bevoir,’ said the man, unnecessarily straightening his clothes, as if Erik and he had been fighting.
Erik’s stomach plummeted. He’d heard that name before. Spies in Borwyn’s enemy’s castle had spoken of de Bevoir. He was rumoured to do all of Lord Garbodo’s dirty work, much like Erik did for Jarin. The only difference was that Jarin was an honourable man and Garbodo was a piece of vermin.
‘I should have known. You’re the little toad who works for Garbodo, the greasy-haired sot who’s after my liege’s land.’
De Bevoir flinched, but held Erik’s gaze, ‘I don’t think you’re in the position to call me or Garbodo names, Erik Ward. We both know where you come from after all.’
Erik felt heat sweep up his neck at the reference to his unknown parentage, but he held his dagger steady. ‘Whatever it is that you want, you can forget it. I will not work against the Earl of Borwyn. He has my complete loyalty.’
De Bevoir raised a bushy eyebrow. ‘And what about Mary?’
Erik paused. Jarin did have his loyalty, but... His liege was a fully trained knight, fluent in the art of warfare and politics. Mary was alone in the world with only Erik to look after her. ‘Tell me about her.’
‘I’m afraid to say your sister is dead,’ said de Bevoir.
Air rushed out of Erik’s lungs. He dropped to his knees, his dagger clattering to the floor as a piercing pain spread through his body. He’d failed, failed to protect the one person he should have spent his life keeping safe. His existence was pointless. He should have been the one to die, not his sweet, vulnerable sister.
‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, but our time is precious,’ continued de Bevoir. ‘Your sister had a daughter. Isabel turned six this past summer. Her father is also dead. She has no one in the world apart from you. As much as I’d love to hand her over to your guardianship my liege has certain...how can I put this?’ De Bevoir paused dramatically, his hand pressed to his chest.
Erik had never hated someone so much. The loathing burned through his veins as if it were a living thing.
A faint smile crossed de Bevoir’s lips, as if he was enjoying this very much. ‘My liege has a simple requirement from you. It’s a fair exchange, I think, for the life of your niece.’
Erik stood slowly, his gaze never leaving de Bevoir’s face. He wanted to run his dagger through the man, but he held his breath and waited.
De Bevoir watched him warily, but when Erik said nothing he continued. ‘I understand Borwyn and you are escorting the Mistresses Leofric to their new home with their brother and his new wife. It’s a journey that will take about a week.’
Erik nodded slowly. It was a week to which he been looking forward. A week in which he’d been hoping to coax more smiles out of the delightful Linota. Although she was denied to him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy such innocent pleasures.
A lead weight settled in his stomach as he knew he wasn’t worthy of even that simple enjoyment. How could he be when he had failed someone he had sworn to protect?
De Bevoir continued. ‘You are to ensure that journey isn’t shortened in any way. It must take a week, longer if possible.’
