Maybe William is finally going to pay you.
“He better damn well do it. And soon.” His patience was thin and Will had taken it to a breaking point.
Tossing his blond hair from his eyes, he reached for the tent flap.
William’s messenger stood outside, waiting. A frightened man, who paled considerably more when he faced him.
At least this one didn’t wet himself. He should be grateful he wouldn’t have to traverse a despicable puddle to speak with the runt. They were getting better forewarned about his appearance, he supposed.
Or better trained, at least.
Still disgusted by the lack of backbone, Valteri growled as bitterness burned raw in his gullet. He was used to people’s reactions to him—used to the stark terror shimmering in their eyes as if they feared for their immortal souls whenever they met his gaze.
Like he ever had any use for anyone’s soul, including his own.
“I pray that, unlike your predecessor who was here two days ago, you’ve come to tell me my brother sends my pay.” His voice was gruff even to his own ears.
One would think his bastard brother would have more important things to occupy himself with, such as torturing other lords and nobles, and taking over this godforsaken country, than harassing him all the time. He still couldn’t understand why William had wanted this hellhole to begin with. It was colder than shit and forever gray and dull.
Rained all the bloody damn time.
Personally, he’d be glad to never see it again. Made no sense to him that William would fight tooth and nail to conquer and keep it.
The messenger actually gasped aloud as he glanced up and noted Valteri’s mismatched eyes—as did most who first saw them and thought it a mark of the devil.
Which had served Valteri well on the field of battle.
Off the field, not so much.
The youth crossed himself, frantically.
Valteri smirked. “Trust me, your God can’t help you. Nor will He save your soul. Or spare your life from me if you continue trying my patience.” He made his voice as ominous and evil as possible.
Thankfully, the bastard held his bowels, but he did wet himself after all, which caused Valteri to have to step back two paces.
Panting and nervous, the man gulped audibly. “H-H-His M-M-M…”
“Majesty,” Valteri finished for him before they both grew old waiting for the man to get his words out.
“Majesty, the king, sends t-t-this for you, m-m-milord.” He extended a bound piece of parchment.
It shook so badly, he was surprised the messenger kept his grip.
Well, that’s certainly not the gold Will promised me.
Sighing heavily, Valteri took it from his hands before the messenger dropped it in his piss, and broke the seal. Curiosity riding him hard about his brother’s lunatic mind, he scanned the contents.
And with every word he read, his mood darkened.
What the hell was this shite? William had given him lordship of Ravenswood Hall, the demesne lands, and all outlying territories?
His brother wanted to reward him for his servicewith lands?
And titles?
Was Will out of his fucking gourd?
By hell’s thorny toes, I’ll kill the bastard for this! How dare he!
