Following the servant, who kept glancing behind himself nervously, William paused inside the family residence. He looked down the corridor and listened for signs of the men, but found no trace of them. Lifting his head, he inhaled and knew they had been here.
Instead of going to the large chamber where they’d dined the night before or some other Presence Chamber, the servant trotted ahead, beckoning him to follow, up several stairways to a chamber on the top floor. They walked to the last chamber, and the servant knocked lightly, whispering his lord’s name before he ran away.
The door was framed in a wood William had never seen and intricately carved with symbols and images. Most were unknown to him, but one caught his attention. It was the same battle-ax shape that was now burning in the flesh of his arm. But the one symbol used most often to decorate this frame was fire.
Brienne had some power over fire, which seemed to have come from Lord Hugh. Where did William’s power come from? His beliefs in the world around him shifted in that moment as he finally accepted what Marcus had tried to tell him. It was not a good feeling. If he had this power, then who else did? Who bore the other symbols on the doorframe? And what powers did they carry?
The door opened and Brienne greeted him and bade him enter with a shy smile and a pale pink blush. She stepped back to allow him entrance.
Gavin’s scent was here. He could smell it. Will glanced around the chamber and saw only Lord Hugh, sitting in a chair that was not unlike a throne. As he moved farther into the chamber and Brienne closed the door, the overwhelming odors assaulted his senses and he fought not to show his shock.
Pain and fear permeated the chamber and even the walls. Will had not imagined that those two things had scents, but he knew them now. Glancing toward Lord Hugh and attempting to approach him was nearly impossible due to the stench of dying and death. As he crossed the chamber to bow before the lord, the smoky smell of burning flesh and wood filled his nostrils and his gaze began to edge toward red.
And yet Brienne was unaffected.
Meeting her eyes, he knew that was not true—she was fighting something as well. Her mouth gave it away, her lower lip trembling as it did when she was nervous or afraid. In that moment, he knew he must get her out of here to safety. He must take her . . . now.
“My lord,” he began, as he rose from the bow. “I know this is precipitous, but I would offer for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Brienne’s shock showed immediately on her face, but before she could react, Lord Hugh’s loud laughter filled the chamber.
“My bastard for the king’s bastard, then, Sir William? Do you think it a good match?” Lord Hugh stood and walked to Brienne’s side, lifting her face as though examining her skin. “She is fetching—is she not?”
Will did not respond. His vision began to redden, and he took in a slow, deep breath, trying to force it out. He needed to be calm now. He needed to be in control. For her. For her.
“Was she what you expected in your bed? As fiery and lively as her mother was in mine?”
Brienne gasped and pulled from his grasp. “You knew?” she accused. “You knew I went to him?”
She did not deny or explain what had happened between them. She only studied her father’s face, and then the realization of the extent and methods he used to control her crossed her lovely features. She raised her hand then, swinging toward Lord Hugh to slap him.
And froze in place.
When Will tried to reach her, he could not, for something—someone—was in his thoughts, stopping him. Every attempt to move resulted in crippling pain. His vision began to narrow and grow more red as he could only watch the scene before him.
No words were spoken between father and daughter, but some battle raged on between them. If Hugh was using the same pain against her, how did she survive it? When she crumpled to the floor at Hugh’s feet with a cry, he knew the victor. Lord Hugh walked in front of Will, exerting his power against him to keep him immobile.
“You want her, William Warblood? She is yours. And you need not bind yourself to her in marriage, since I know you hope to find a more suitable bride to establish your line. Take her; use her; keep her or discard her when you finish with her.”
Hugh circled him, now chuckling, as Will tried to force his hold off. He’d used the same word or name that Marcus had in describing him—warblood. So Hugh knew.
“You need only to give yourself and your powers over to me and she is yours. But there is so much more at stake now. You can have your own kingdom. Establish your own bloodline and dynasty. Take what you want from the humans who will serve us. Take who you want. It can be yours with a word, Warblood.”
William continued to fight for control and failed as Hugh walked around him, taunting him, teasing him, tempting him to join this growing evil.
“Oh wait!” he said, a sarcastic bite in his voice. “It appears you cannot move.” Suddenly, the pain in his head increased, and he screamed against it . . . but no sound came out of his throat. His lungs would not take in air.
“You have a decision to make, William. You can accept your destiny and be at my side in the great endeavor to right an ancient wrong,” he said, continuing to walk around him. When he stood directly before him, he said, “Or you can watch her die before you do.”
The pain holding him there was so great, he could not even move his gaze to see her on the floor. His body shuddered and shook as he tried to change and could not. He could not even breathe. Some force held him in place and kept his warblood from rising.
“This is bigger than your quest for lands, King’s Knight. This is bigger than your father the king or even Scotland. And by standing with me, you will gain more than you ever imagined you could. She is the least of it, but she can be yours.”
Then he was free, and he fell to his knees on the floor, dragging in huge gasps of air and forcing his lungs to breathe. Will tried to reach for Brienne who still did not move, but Hugh stopped him, stepping between them and dragging him back to his feet.
“Join me. Join us. I will show you how to use the power of your warrior blood as we travel north to accomplish our holy quest,” he whispered in the voice that every evil temptation used. “We will be invincible.” Then Hugh thrust him away toward the door and watched him through veiled eyes with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You have two hours, Warblood. Send your men packing and stand with us or fall with them.” Hugh lifted his head and nodded toward the hillside where Marcus hid.
