With a resigned sigh, Blake sat on the bed and fed her sister the soup.
* * *
‘What the hell was that?’ Shapur growled as he burst into the room Harlan shared with Astin.
Thankfully, Astin was still on duty.
Harlan had been waiting for his father to show up and reprimand him. He rose from his cot. Whatever his father was about to say and do, he deserved all of it.
‘Did that whip even touch her?’ Shapur asked, stepping up to him. ‘Because from where I was standing, your efforts looked half-arsed. Then you just send her home to relax for the afternoon?’
‘She was supposed to be pardoned.’
’She was supposed to beg for forgiveness.’
Harlan rubbed one eye. ‘She’s mute.’
‘And all that to impress some merchant girl you have no future with.’
There was some truth in that. Not the trying to impress Blake part but the no future with her bit. He knew only too well what happened to men of noble birth who married below them. It tore families apart and destroyed lives.
It killed people.
‘And the disrespect you showed Prince Borin did not go unnoticed,’ Shapur went on. ‘What the hell were you thinking addressing him with that tone?’
He had not been thinking. He had been reacting. He had been failing.
‘You behaved like a fucking child out there. Weak. And in front of your own men and every merchant watching on. I thought I had trained it out of you. I blame your mother for this.’
That was the end of Harlan’s patience. ‘What?’
‘She always indulged that part of you. It is the reason we ended up with a three-legged hunting dog of no use instead of putting the animal out of its misery.’
Harlan felt his blood rise. ‘That dog was her only companion until her death. Would you have stripped her of that too if I had not intervened?’
Shapur pointed a finger in his face. ‘Do not speak of things you do not understand!’
‘It’s almost as if youwantedher to die alone.’
It was too far.
Shapur grabbed him by the shirt, his other hand raised and balled into a tight fist. Harlan’s hands remained at his sides while his father played at the edges of restraint. If the man wanted to punch him to feel better, Harlan would not stop him.
Shapur released him with a shove, and the two men stared at one another.
‘Your insubordination has consequences,’ Shapur said, reining in his temper. ‘You will remain at the barracks and oversee training of new recruits until I can trust you to command that borough. Am I understood?’
Harlan felt only relief. ‘Yes.’ At least he could avoid Blake’s deathly glare for a while. Not that he could hold it against her. He had volunteered to whip her sister. No man who raised his hand and said, ‘Let me do it instead,’ was ever going to come off looking good. The distance would give him a chance to get his head together and his feelings for Blake under control. But it also meant there would be no one around to protect her from herself—and despite common sense, he wanted to be that someone.
‘I suggest you train early tomorrow,’ Shapur said, heading for the door. ‘It is going to be a long day for you.’
Chapter 21
Harlan walked the line of recruits, looking each one hard in the eye as they readied for their first excursion outside the walls. Or ratheroverthe walls. None of them looked at their feet, so that was progress.
He stopped in front of Roul Thornton, a well-muscled lad Shapur had caught fighting for money in the port. For whatever reason, the warden had taken a shining to him, suggesting he do something useful with those bruised fists of his.
‘Ready to go over the wall, defender?’ Harlan asked him.
