WinterofThorns (5 page)

“The right woman might,” Seyzon said. A
sound close to his head made him lower his arm. He swiveled his head and
snarled as he saw the large rat that was sitting on its haunches glaring at
him. “Go. Away.”

A twitch of the ugly thing’s whiskers
seemed to be the rodent’s not so charming way of saying
fuck you
.

“Come at me, you little prick, and I’ll
stomp you into a greasy mess,” Seyzon warned.

The rat whipped its skinny, disgustingly
long tail then turned and sauntered off as though it had all the time in the
world. Had it been a cat, it would have shaken a rear leg in insult as if to
say it wasn’t afraid of the incarcerated human male and it could wait.

“Eat shit and die, motherfucker,” Seyzon
called after it and he could have sworn he heard the evil thing snort.

Returning his arm to his eyes, he drew in a
long breath. His headache wasn’t as bad as before now that he was lying down
but it still nibbled at his brain just over his right eye. He forced his
thoughts from the slight pain and pictured Jana’s face behind his eyelids.

She was so beautiful, he thought. So kind
and gentle and she’d become as necessary to him as the air he drew into his
lungs. He had no idea how long Vindan would keep him locked away from her but
he figured it would be a day or so at the very least.

“Enough time to make me see the error of my
ways and repent for them,” he mumbled aloud.

Aye,
he
thought. Vindan would leave come morning. Joseph or Alden would come down to
deliver the news to him that the prince had instructed them to keep him jailed
for an
unspecified
time. Vindan took great delight in using the word unspecified.
The vagueness of the time limit, the indeterminate state of the imprisonment
was meant to undermine the prisoner’s confidence that he would once again see
daylight. It was a tactic the prince had used time and again to punish those
who had annoyed him. The dungeon at Wicklow might as well have revolving doors
for all the men—and the occasional woman—who had been run through there on a
weekly basis.

Chuckling to himself despite being angry at
his old friend and wondering about his new bride’s state of mind, Seyzon tried
to relax so the headache would not escalate. Pleasant thoughts of the life
ahead of him with Jana was just the ticket to help.

Then a withering thought bored its way into
his mind. He thought of Raymond deVille and dropped his arm behind his head,
opened his eyes and stared at the dark ceiling above him. In that inky darkness
he saw Raymond as he’d been the last time the man had been at Wicklow.

Gilbert had marched Ray into the bailey
where a scaffold had been erected earlier that day. Ray’s wrists had been
manacled to the twin uprights and his uniform shirt ripped from his shoulders.
Then the executioner had strolled from the barbican with a coiled bullwhip in
hand.

Those gathered—commanded to be
there—watched in horror and sympathy as the lash had been laid to Ray’s back.
Three lashes were thrown for each day since Ray had gone to his knee before the
Lady Emily Donovan. By the time the whip lay idle on the ground at the executioner’s
feet, Ray’s back was a bloody mess and he had spent fifteen minutes of his life
screaming at the top of his lungs.

And he hadn’t even married Lady Emily! He’d
simply asked her to be his wife. What might Vindan have ordered done to the
wretched man had he went ahead and Joined without the prince’s permission?

A hard shudder ran through Seyzon. Had he
escaped Ray’s fate or was he being left in this dismal cell to contemplate what
was coming.

“Shit.” Seyzon sat up. He plowed a hand
through his hair.

Would a scaffold be built in the bailey of
Riverglade come morning light? Would he be strung up as Ray had been and the
flesh shredded on his back? Or did a much direr fate await him?

“Do you have any idea how angry I am
with you at this moment, Seyzon?”

Those words took on an ominous tone as he
sat there in the semi-darkness behind rusted iron bars, anticipating an outcome
that could light years worse than Ray deVille’s.

“And when did you ask her to be your
bride?”

Had Vindan calculated the passes of the
whip he would ask be applied at that moment?

“Forty-five,” he whispered. He cringed. “Or
more because I married.”

Getting to his feet, he began to pace.
Suddenly he was very concerned about what his friend—nay, his
prince
—was
going to do to him.

* * * * *

Vindan leaned his elbows on an embrasures—the
gap between the merlons, or upright sections of the battlement—and looked down
at the moat four stories below. He was shivering from the cold but endured it.
The discomfort kept his mind sharp for the thoughts that were plaguing him
threatened to wreak havoc with his self-control. As long as he kept to the
punishment he had set for himself, he would not do what he feared he might.

“Why, Seyzon?” he asked the blistering
wind. “Why did you not wait and seek my permission? If you had, this would not
have happened!”

He hung his head, bent over until his
forehead rested against his clasped hands.

“Had you done what you should have…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing what
should have been.

A message would have arrived from the
field. Gilbert would have brought it to him. He would have known a moment of
concern upon learning the message had come from his Adjutant General. Or
perhaps Seyzon would have made sure the message bore his personal name only as
sender and not his rank. Had that been the case, Vindan reasoned he might have
been put at ease concerning the content.

On opening the missive, he would have
scanned it quickly—looking for bad news—then he would have been astonished at
what was contained therein.

He would have latched on to the word
proposal then hooted with derision. Seyzon had found a woman? Nonsense! He’d
have thought it a practical joke at first. Then the surprise would turn to
shock, the shock to concern that his friend had impregnated some baron’s only
daughter and was being forced to wed her.

Then the realization would have set in that
Seyzon truly wanted to marry the wench.

That would have been when the
disappointment—and perhaps a touch of envy—appeared.

“You would have stated your claim clearly
and precisely,” he said to the howling wind. “You would have told me you had
found your other half, you heart mate, the love of your life.”

Those three descriptive phrases painting
the picture of the woman Seyzon had chosen as his own made Vindan Brell
physically ill.

He knew after an hour or so of chewing on
the words in the message, getting alternately angry and envious of his old
friend, mulling over the ramifications of Seyzon taking a bride, he would have
sent word back to him that royal permission was granted.

“And I would have asked you bring your lady
to court so I could meet her. I would have insisted your Joining be held there
and not at Lavenfeld where your lady-mother would have had all the say in the
matter. I would have given you one helluva wedding and afterparty, my friend.”

Regret pricked at his conscience as he
opened his eyes and stared at the stone beneath his arms. Regret and guilt rode
him like a cruel master who was quick with his spurs.

Seyzon was the brother he’d never had. He
loved him as one. His mother had been the wife of a baron whose husband had
died during the second war with Selwyn. She had brought Seyzon to court when he
was a toddler and the two boys had become inseparable. Oh, the trouble the two
of them had gotten into! The mean things they’d done to the half-sisters both he
and Seyzon loathed!

A sad smile stretched Vindan’s lips. If his
oldest sister Magdalene had ever had her way, he and Seyzon would have been
hanged, drawn and quartered before they ever reached puberty.

“Gods, how she hates you, Seyzon,” he said.

The smile slowly disappeared.

“And now you are going to hate me.”

“Did you get any sleep, milord?” Gilbert
inquired.

“What do you think?” Seyzon asked. He was
sitting cross-legged in the center of the cot, eying the tray clutched in a
servant’s hand. The old jailer was again fumbling the key in the lock and the
sound made Seyzon grit his teeth. “If I’m being given food, I doubt I’ll be
lashed today.”

“There’s been no mention of lashing,”
Gilbert said.

“What is his frame of mind this morn?”
Seyzon asked as the old man finally got the door unlocked.

“I’ve not seen him as yet,” Gilbert
replied. “I was told he broke his fast early then closeted himself in with Lord
Alden. They’ve been in Lord Alden’s study for quite some time.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or
worried, hearing that.” He glanced down at the fare on the tray the servant
brought and scrunched up his face. He detested half-cooked eggs and especially
loathed the grits they were swimming in. The bacon was overdone and black at
the edges. And
wheat
toast? Without butter or jam? The word cardboard
went through his mind. Adding insult to injury, the cup of coffee was as dark
as pitch and there was no sugar or cream on the tray to cut what he knew would
be the bitter taste of the brew.

“My thought is he’ll keep you here for a
week or so then have you sent back to Wicklow.” Gilbert shrugged. “Your lady
remaining behind for a while.”

“Better than having my back turned into
sliced beef I suppose,” Seyzon mumbled although the thought of leaving Jana at
Riverglade was like a dagger to his heart.

Then there was the crippling speculation
that Vindan might be angry enough to annul the Joining. Since the marriage had
yet to be consummated, it was a real fear that poked at him like a porcupine’s
quills.

“Have you seen my lady-wife today?” he
asked, holding his breath for the answer.

“She had not come down when last I was in
the Great Hall but I had to see to the men. We’ll be leaving after the noon
meal.” Gilbert scratched his cheek. “And we’ll be taking Joseph and Ernst with
us.”

A cold finger of disquiet scraped down his
backbone. “Why?

“I assume it is because His Grace believes
they are incapable of keeping you in line,” Gilbert said. “He will no doubt
assign men he believes he can trust to leave behind as your protectors.”

“My jailers,” Seyzon grumbled.

“That too,” Gilbert agreed with a grin.
“Also, there will be a troop of men bivouacked close by should the Selwyns
decide to overrun Riverglade and take you captive. They will be your escort
back to Wicklow when you are no longer a jailbird.”

“Ha, ha,” Seyzon said.

“Just saying,” Gilbert told him.

“Do you think he’d allow me to see my
wife?”

“Nope.”

“Her brother?”

“Doubtful,” Gilbert said.

“We was told you weren’t to get no
visitors,” the old man said as he relocked the cell door. “That’s the way it’s
gonna be.”

“Would you take word to my lady-wife at
least?”

Gilbert pursed his lips and thought about
it for a moment. “Depends on what you want me to tell her, I guess.”

“That I love her and…” He stopped because
Gilbert was shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Too mushy,” Gilbert said. “I’ll tell her
you send your regards.”

“How romantic of you,” Seyzon snapped.

“Best I can do, milord.” Gilbert’s eyebrows
rose. “Anything else you need done?”

“No,” Seyzon replied ungraciously.

“Then enjoy your meal. I heard the prince
himself ordered it for you last eve on his way up to his room.”

“Figures,” Seyzon groused.

“Hey, at least he was thinking about you,”
Gilbert reminded him.

“Aye, I’m sure he was,” Seyzon stated.
“Bastard.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Seyzon plucked the tray from the
mattress and set it in his lap. The sight of the eggs made his stomach lurch
but he was hungry. He lifted the fork from the tray as Gilbert and the other
men left him to the dripping water, squeaking rats and stinking mold.

* * * * *

“Is he still here?” Jana asked the maid
servant who had come to make the bed.

“The prince?” the woman queried. “Aye,
milady. He is in with Lord Alden.” She eyed the mound of linen that lay in the
corner of the room and frowned but said nothing. She walked over to it, bent
down and scooped them up. Her frown deepened when she realized the fitted sheet
was missing. Her eyes went to the fireplace.

A heavy knock at the door made Jana jump.
She was curled into the corner of the settee with her bare feet under her and
the unexpected sound—nothing like the light tap the maid had applied—brought
her heart into her throat. Her eyes widened when the knock came again.

“Want me to get that, milady?” the maid
asked.

“Please,” Jana said. “I really don’t want
to see anyone.”

She wasn’t given a choice. The door opened
before the maid ever reached it and Jana’s world tilted precariously to one
side when she saw Prince Vindan standing in the doorway.

“We need to speak, Lady Montyne,” the
prince said formally. He turned his stony stare to the maid who scrambled out
of the room as though the hounds of hell were nipping at her skirt tails.

The moment the door closed, Jana began to
tremble.

“Calm yourself, milady. I’m not here for a
repeat of last eve,” he told her. He went over to the hearth and stared down at
the ashes lying there. He glanced around at her. “I assume you burned the
sheets.”

She swallowed. “The bottom one, aye,” she
said in a small voice.

“Good. There is no need for the servants to
know what transpired here.” He braced his arm on the mantle as he faced her. “I
said nothing of it to your brother. I do not want you to discuss it with him or
anyone else. That is not a request, madame. That is an order. Are we clear?”

“Aye, Your Grace,” she acknowledged.

“Then that’s settled,” he stated.

“Have you told Seyzon?” she asked,
surprising herself with her temerity. Her audacity at questioning her Overlord.

“Not yet but I will. It’s part of his
punishment.”

“May I ask what other part there will be?”

“He’ll be stuck in that cell for a while
then he’ll be escorted to Wicklow where he will be under house arrest until I
am no longer angry at him for defying me.”

“May I see him?”

“No, you may not.”

She looked down at her tightly clenched
hands. “Will I be allowed to accompanying him to Wicklow?”

“No.”

Jana slowly closed her eyes, afraid to ask
the next question but needing to. “Will you annul our Joining?”

“I haven’t decided as yet,” he answered,
and when she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, he seemed to wilt. “Most
likely not, though.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she told him, lips
quivering.

“Don’t thank me, yet,” he snapped. “What I
do depends on Seyzon’s reaction to what I will say to him.”

“But you won’t have him flogged,” she said
hopefully.

“No, milady. As I told you last eve, I’ve
no desire to spill Seyzon’s blood. I have known him since we were in diapers.
He is like kin to me.”

“Then you forgive him?” she asked.

“Mayhap one day, but no time soon,” he
replied.

“He meant you no disrespect, Your Grace.
He—”

“You don’t know him as well as I do,” he
interrupted. “Seyzon is a reckless, brash, hotheaded, stubborn and altogether
infuriating bastard at times, milady. In his arrogance he didn’t think I’d
react to his ignoring my edict. He gave me no choice but to prove to him he is
not above the law and just as accountable for the breaking of it.”

“You know this will hurt him deeply.” She
reached up to bat away a tear falling down her cheek.

“Aye, I do. It will drop him to his knees,
but better his heart be broken than his body.”

She looked away from the coldness in his
blue eyes. “I am grateful you did not hurt me last eve, Your Grace. I thank you
for that.”

“I tried to be as gentle as I could given
the circumstances,” he replied. “I am not a brute, milady.” He narrowed his
eyes. “Nor am I a rapist. I had the legal right—albeit it an ancient and seldom
used legal right—to have you. I exercised that right.” A smirk touched his
mouth. “And it was your choice to allow me the execution of that right.”

Jana wanted to scream at him that there had
never been a true choice and had to bite her tongue to keep from doing so.

“Seyzon is a lucky man,” she heard him say.
She had to blink away her tears to see his face.

“How so, Your Grace?” she asked, unable to
keep the bitterness from her tone.

Prince Vindan gave her a steady look. “He has
you.” He dropped his gaze. “I envy him.”

Nothing he could have said would have
stunned her more. She stared at him, watched him walk to the door without
another word and leave.

* * * * *

The food he’d consumed had been as bad as
he knew it would be and it sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Stretched
out on the cot, he rubbed his stomach to help alleviate the bloated feeling
then ran his fingertips to the incision. He winced for the wound ached. Most
likely the bandage needed changing and salve applied.

Somewhere in the dungeon a door squealed
open and he turned his head toward the sound. There was a faint glow coming
from the stairwell. He was about to have a visitor and he was fairly sure he knew
who it would be. Sitting up, he swung his legs to the floor, jumping as
something large ran over the instep of his boot. Instinctively he jerked his
feet up. A squeak of protest told him he’d scared the rat as badly as it had
scared him.

“Fucking asstwit,” he grumbled as he got to
his feet.

Vindan had come alone. As he came into
view, Seyzon realized the prince wanted no witnesses to what was going to be
said.

“Come to gloat, Your Grace?” he asked.

“I don’t recall giving you leave to speak,
Montyne,” Vindan snapped.

“You didn’t but you know what, Vin? I don’t
give a fuck,” Seyzon said. “Let’s change places for a night and see if you give
a fuck either.”

“You are right where you need to be.”
Vindan stood well out of reach of the bars and cocked his head to one side.
“Probably somewhere you should have been long ago.”

“And don’t it make you happy?” Seyzon
queried.

“No, Zonny, it doesn’t. But you gave me few
alternatives. It was either this or a hundred lashes.”

Seyzon blinked. “A hundred?”

“I know you ignore most of what I say to
you but I would have thought you would have at least read some of the edicts I
put into place when my father—your king, by the way—handed Wicklow into my
care.”

“Aye, well, mayhap if you provide me with
copies of them, I’ll bide my time here reading them.” He smiled nastily. “What
else do I have to do?”

“There was a reason for each of those edicts,”
Vindan stated. “The edict regarding proposals was to protect my men from being
hoodwinked into marrying some chit who would make their lives miserable and
then take them for all they had.”

“That was not the case with Jana,” Seyzon
said through clenched teeth.

“Mayhap not, but the edict also states no
exceptions. The woman in each individual case must be investigated thoroughly
before I will give the warrior my blessings. Her motives—as well as the motives
of her family—need to be examined carefully. The warrior doesn’t always think
with the right head when dealing with a conniving, ambitious woman. He doesn’t
see the pitfalls someone unbiased in the matter might discover. As I said, I
want my men protected.”

“I told you decades ago interfering with
other men’s lives is playing with fire, Vin. I warned you that sooner or later
one of them was going to call you on it.”

“And is that what you did?” Vindan asked.

“I took control of my own destiny. There
was a reason I did not waste time in seeking your permission.”

“Oh, so you thought just because it was you
I’d grant that permission without thought?” the prince demanded. He stepped up
to the bars and wrapped his hands around them. “Any woman who showed interest
in you was bound to set off alarm bells in my head, Zonny. You above all my
other men I would see protected.”

Seyzon waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t
need your protection. I’m full grown, Vindan, and perfectly capable of taking
care of myself and making my own gods-be-damned decisions!”

“A decision that affected not only you but
the woman you dragged into the crime with you. Lucky for her she did not know
about the edict or I would have been forced to punish her as I did deVille’s
woman who did know.”

The thought of Jana being subjected to what
Lady Emily Donovan had gone through set Seyzon’s teeth on edge. The woman’s
long red hair had been shorn down to the scalp and she’d been denied the right
to wear any form of head covering so her shame would be apparent to all who saw
her. Having to sit on a wooden bench in the center of the courtyard for as many
days as she’d been engaged to Raymond had been a humiliation for the proud
woman.”

“So instead you imprisoned her groom then
took away my lady’s wedding night.”

“I did not take away her wedding night.”
Vindan stepped back, once more out of reach.

“How they hell do you figure that, Vindan?
I wasn’t there with her!” Seyzon snarled.

“No, you weren’t. But I was.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“
Ceart an chéad oíche
.”

Seyzon’s eyes flared. “What?” he whispered.

“It is an ancient feudal right given to—”

“I know what it is,” Seyzon said, nausea
rushing up his throat. “By the gods, Vindan, please tell me you are joking.”

“You needed to be punished,” the prince
said. “I punished you.”