The Knight's Scarred Maiden

After being caught, Sister Ffion had died, but not before she revealed the terrible secret. That she was Rhain’s true mother. In her dying words, she did not say who his father was. Only telling him the clue was in a necklace she gave him.

And that was what he had been doing for the last five years: finding clues along the way. That his father, most likely, was the captain of the former Gwalchdu’s soldiers. That from a piece of needlework the necklace was not only links of silver, but that a large inlaid pendant had once belonged to it.

Thinking his father had taken the pendant, Rhain attempted to discover in which direction he’d travelled. When that trail went cold, he followed the jewelers who could make or sell such a necklace and pendant. Spain, France, further along Wales and London.

Along the way, he’d earned money and a reputation by his sword. He’d earned men, who followed him when his reputation increased. All the while, he asked questions. He wanted, needed answers. Why was Sister Ffion his mother; why did his father abandon her? Did his father know the Devil’s blood ran through her veins? And—the one question that plagued him, that drove him on—did his father suffer from seizures, too?

Simple questions. A golden life turned to rusting iron in one moment. A privileged carefree life. Where he had no worries on money, or family. Where because of his looks, because of his wealth, he had friends, he had women.

Now, he had no family. His brother wasn’t his brother, his mother was dead.

He was alone. Because of his Devil’s blood, he would remain alone.

His life had been forfeit since that fateful day when he realized his mother was Sister Ffion, a woman plagued by seizures. Though he’d never suffered a seizure, he was all too aware the blood flowed through his veins as well. That he was tainted.

As a result, there would be no wife for him, no children. No future. But he’d carved a life for himself, such that it was. Until London.

Only Nicholas knew what stupidity he had done in London two months back. Only Nicholas would ever know because he had been there when he denied Guy of Warstone his services and then in one rash act had killed him.

Now, Guy’s brother Reynold was after him. Rhain had a price on his head from one of the most powerful families in Europe. One reckless moment and he forfeited what was left of his life and jeopardized the lives of his men.

So that carefree man he was before was no more and the purposeful life he’d made for himself was also gone. All he could do now was to set things right by getting his men under the protection of Edward’s camp. As for Nicholas, who knew everything and most likely had a price on his head, too, he hoped he lived long enough to protect him as well.

This village was small, but was on the main road and would have travelers. He and his men took all the spare lodging and some of his men were in different accommodations. His priority was to Nicholas, but even now his enemy could be circling the village and setting a trap. He could stay here to protect, but it wouldn’t give them enough time for the advantage he liked to have.

Rhain stood. ‘I’m more restless than I thought. I’m going to walk the outer village first if you watch the men here. I’ll return shortly.’

Nicholas raised one brow, but nodded his head. There was no good reason to search this sleepy village. It would take more than one man to take down their mercenary troop, but it would take only a trained assassin to take down one man. His life might be meaningless, he might be plagued with the Devil’s own blood. But he would get his men to Edward’s camp and do one good deed before he died.

Chapter Three (#u3a5d942b-c6bb-57e8-b9f0-957e822ed333)

Helissent wrapped her shawl tightly against the cool breeze. It was spring and warm, but this time of night always brought a chill, which cut through her skin after the fires of the kitchens.

It was the one pain she welcomed in her day. In the beginning, those fires and her skin’s sensitivities had almost kept her away from the ovens. But she knew how to protect herself now and had got used to the sting because it brought her joy. Like now even though she was exhausted after completing half the cakes requested.

Cakes she’d made almost completely in the dark. She had to make all fifty of them before tomorrow, but Rudd was meticulous when it came to the kitchen supplies and that included the use of candles to see by. She couldn’t risk Rudd’s wrath with the use of too many candles. He only gave her a small allowance to operate the kitchen and the food she fed to the travelers in the inn. It was all she had, but it was a matter of pride that she made the best food around.

She knew these cakes, slathered in honey, were some of her best. She could stay up later, but she risked the ovens overheating. Best to have them cool. They’d be warm enough to heat to the right temperature when she rose.

She stumbled and righted herself. Exhaustion didn’t describe how tired her bones were. A full day’s work. Not to mention she was up early making the original twenty-five cakes this morning. She was exhausted and Rudd wasn’t letting up on her either. Since he arrived a few months ago, he’d worked her twice as hard as his parents had though they had been old and frail. She had done their work, plus hers in the end.

She’d also cared for them when both became bedridden. She’d do it all again for they had done much more for her. She missed them terribly. They’d taken her in and healed her when she had no one left.

Now they were gone and she had no one again. Except Rudd, and she desperately didn’t want him. She prayed it would be late enough when she returned and he’d be asleep. In four hours, she needed to make more cakes and she needed to rest.

Fifty cakes for double the money. It still gave her a thrill. It gave Rudd a thrill, too, if the lascivious gleam in his eyes and spittle in the corner of his mouth was anything to go by when she’d handed it to him after her shadow man had left. She hoped it appeased him at the least.

For one tempting moment, she’d thought to keep the money for herself. She’d do anything for that money. After all, her shadow man made the bargain with her and Rudd hadn’t seen her take the money. She could have given him half and taken the other portion. It wasn’t enough for her to get to another town, but it would have been a start.

But shadow man didn’t know she made the cakes and she couldn’t risk Rudd finding out. He was entirely too frightening now. His manner too familiar. But she knew his greed was great, consequently she’d given him all the money. If she could show him her worth was on her cooking, not on her living with him and being a servant, maybe he would leave her alone.

Her eyes burned now with the need to sleep. She was tired, but only a few steps more and she could rest.

‘Where have you been?’ Rudd said, low, soft as he stepped out of the dark side of her home.

She stopped suddenly and blinked. It was late, the village quiet. There was no need for him to be up.

‘Why are you here?’ she blurted out before thinking.

He scowled and the blunt slash of his lips turned cruel. ‘It isn’t any of your business why I’m here. But your being gone is mine, now isn’t it?’

A strange relief swept through her tired body. She was exhausted, not thinking clearly. Rudd’s parents worried for her when she came home late as she worked on a recipe. ‘Sorry, I was in the kitchens. I should have told—’

‘You think I don’t know where you’ve been or how you earn your money?’ Rudd held up his coin purse, though she knew he’d already hidden the coins given to her. ‘You think I’m a fool. No one makes this kind of coin off cakes.’

Rudd’s tone of voice was as sneering as ever, but what set her heart tripping was the choice of his words, the fact he held up the purse that she knew was mostly empty. Still she argued with him.

‘Of course it was for the cakes. I handed you the coins; I explained how that man requested fifty cakes by tomorrow morning. I had to make some tonight.’

‘Oh, I can smell the fires all over you.’ Rudd sniffed. ‘I know you were in the kitchens. But I don’t see any cakes. I just see you, walking home.’

Home was feet away. They were on the dark and quiet side of her home now. If she had reached the front, she’d be surrounded by the lights of other homes, of the inn.

‘It wasn’t nice of you walking home this late, and making us wait.’ Rudd took a step closer, his legs unsteady, but still upright. He had been drinking, but not enough to make him weak. Why would she care if drink made him weak?

But she did care. It was there in his suspicious words, in the fact he approached her on this side of the house where no one would see them. It was in the fact her heart tripped a bit more and the hairs on her neck prickled in warning.

‘I left the cakes in the kitchens to cool. Check if you don’t believe me. I have to make more in the morning.’ She gathered her shawl closer and moved to step around him. ‘I need to lie down and get some sleep now or else we’ll have to return the money. We’ll talk in the morning.’

A harsh chuckle escaped his lips. ‘Oh, you’ll lie down now...but it won’t be to sleep.’

From the other side of her home, two men emerged under the moon’s light. Two men she saw earlier at the tavern. The ones talking heatedly with Rudd, and giving her looks. Rudd looking smug. Too smug.

She pulled herself straighter, all tiredness gone. Her heart now hammering in her chest. The men blocked her way around to the door of her home; Rudd blocked the other way. The only way to escape was to run the way she’d come, but that only led to the kitchens, to more darkness and further away from any one to help her. If there was to be help.

‘What is this?’

‘You know what it is. You do take me for a fool. I have to admit I had doubts when you handed me those coins for your cakes. But then these two men showed me the error of my ways. Showed me what more could be earned by having one such as you.’

She eyed the men, who held menacingly still. As if they were simply waiting for her to run. And she wanted to, but with her skin tightening up around her leg, she wouldn’t get very far.

The only choice she had was to talk her way out of this. Perhaps appeal to their greed. ‘I received that for the cakes, Rudd. Cakes I won’t make again if you go through with this. I swear upon your parents—’

‘Don’t you mention my parents. Don’t you ever talk about my parents again!’

Anger, fear. The men watching her changed stance like they could feel the trap they’d laid tightening on her. She could feel it, too.

Confusion entered her fear now. This seemed too personal. This was Rudd, the son who never visited, who returned only after their death to claim everything. The son the innkeepers spoke of once, his mother’s voice breaking in the middle of the tale before the father told her the rest. He was an awful man, and hadn’t cared for them. Yet he was angry now.