Chapter Four
Braya returned toher village after supper and met Galien on the way to his small cottage a short distance from their parents’ house. “’Tis almost dark. Where have you been, Braya?”
“I was hunting,” she replied, pushing her way past him.
“Oh?” he asked, catching up easily. “What did you kill?”
She pushed the right side of her mantle away from her hip and revealed the heavy pouch tied to her belt. “Apples, bread, cheese, and grapes.”
She opened the door and left him standing at the entrance of the cottage, gaping after her. She hoped he wouldn’t follow, but, of course, he did. Her heart beat even faster. Galien wouldn’t listen, and he might convince her father not to listen either. She felt a bit lightheaded and unsteady on her feet. She had to tell her father the truth about where she had spent her day, how she had gotten the food. Mostly, she had to tell him about Sir Torin Gray.
She found Rowley Hetherington in the kitchen, sitting on a stool by the fire. His wife was standing behind him and working her fingers into his shoulders.
“Braya,” her mother was the first to greet her. “You are late for supper. You will explain why, and then you may eat the food I have set aside for you on the table.”
“Thank you, Mother. Forgive me for being late. I—”
“Braya has food,” her brother blurted out. “Apples, and bread, cheese, and grapes!”
Braya turned to stare open-mouthed at him. She wished she could hit him over the head with something. It worried her that he couldn’t command control over his tongue. Where would it leave her family when her father was gone?
Still glaring at him, she revealed the pouch, and then untied it.
When she dumped the contents onto the table, her father left his stool and came to stand at her side. “Where did you come upon this?”
She had to tell him because she hated lying to him. She respected him and admired his leadership. He had never been reckless, nor had he ever put his pride before the safety of the family. He had to know how Sir Torin felt before he made his decision. She wished her brother wasn’t here, but there was nothing she could do about it.
“While I was out hunting, I came upon a man in the forest.” She looked up into her father’s gaze. “By the time I realized ’twas Sir Torin Gray—”
Both he and Galien stared at her, their mouths hanging open. Braya fought to steady her voice when she hastily continued. This wasn’t the time in her life to go weak. She’d never let anything make her falter. This was no different. “We spoke, Father. He asked my forgiveness for killing our kin, but he insists they were about to kill the warden’s men.”
“You were alone with this murderer?” Galien demanded, looking stunned.
“Did he lay a hand on you?” her father growled.
“If he had,” she gave them both an incredulous look, “do you think I would have come away without blood on my clothes? Do you not know me? He did not touch me. He gave me food to eat and I stole the rest.”
Her father stared at her for a moment, his shrewd gaze piercing in the low light. “You are brave, Daughter.” His low, gravelly voice was sweet in her ears. “Sometimes to the point of foolishness.”
Her smile faded.
“But being alone in the damned forest with the killer of our relatives is by far the most foolish thing you have ever done.” He held up his palm to stop her when she parted her lips to defend herself. “What were you thinking? That you would try to find out the truth, alone with him?” His eyes on her widened. “Did you?”
“I do not know. Perhaps. Aye.”
“Which is it, Braya? Is he guilty? Did you try to kill him? ’Twasyoursuggestion we kill him to avenge the lads. But no.” His voice dipped low, along with his brows. “You said he fed you. What happened?”
“We spoke, Father,” she repeated to him and straightened her shoulders.
“What did you speak about?”
“I told you, he asked my forgiveness for killing my cousins. When I asked him why he killed them all, he explained that they had come at him at once. At once, Father.” She waited a moment, letting her words sink in. “He is either extremely skilled, or the warden’s men lied and helped him kill all the lads. But why would Mr. Adams admit to killing someone if they were going to deceive us?” She spoke quickly while Galien took in everything she said. “I do not believe we were deceived. I believe Sir Torin is a very skilled fighter. But he does not wish to fight us.” She didn’t tell her father how confident he was that he would kill anyone who came against him. Or that it still sent a chill up her spine because he made her believe he could do it. “He told me he was troubled because he had put our alliance with the warden in jeopardy.”
Her father narrowed his eyes on her. “You believe he was telling the truth?”
“He had no reason not to,” she answered softly.
“Father,” Galien interjected. “Are we going to take the word of a stranger who claims our boys tried to kill the border guards?”
