Chapter Sixteen
Raven’s arms trembled as she heldthe sword above her head. Boucher had to die. To protect others from his evil. This monster would not hurt another family.
She heard Landyn’s words in her mind, “If you murder your father’s killer, then you become a killer.”
While her heart was telling her to do it—to strike, to end his life—every other instinct she had prevented her from doing so. She was a Hawke; she did not kill defenseless men.
She was not a monster as he was.
With a frustrated growl, she lowered her weapon.
A sneer crept across his lips.
“Raven,” Landyn called from the doorway.
She hesitated a moment, unable to face him. She was disheartened she couldn’t finish the job.
Landyn moved up to her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, which sagged beneath his touch.
“He killed my father,” she whispered, her heart aching.
“I know.”
“I can’t do it,” she admitted. “I can’t kill him.”
“I know.” Landyn stepped up behind her and whispered against her ear, “Your father would be proud of you.”
She looked down as tears rose in her eyes.
“This is yours now.” Landyn held the corded key up at her side.
A simple gold key. She didn’t know what it unlocked, but it now belonged to her as her father had wanted. She took the cord and slipped it over her head, tucking the key into her leather armor.
Disheartened, Raven took the rope from the bed and seized Boucher’s arm, yanking it behind his back. She made sure she twisted his appendage just enough to cause him pain. She wrapped the twine around his wrist and secured it around his other wrist.
Then, she stepped before him. What was she going to do with him?
Landyn walked to Raven’s side to stand before Boucher. “You have something that is mine.” His gaze swept the room, searching.
Glinting in the soft candlelight beside Boucher’s boots, it lay on a chair near the door. Landyn marched to the chair and picked it up.
His sword. The sword Boucher had killed Viola for.
“You,” Boucher gasped. “I thought I recognized you. The farmer. But no longer a farmer. Now a knight.”
Landyn ignored him, inspecting his sword. He had half-expected Boucher to use it as an axe or treat it with disrespect. But it seemed remarkably well taken care of. There were no nicks in the metal blade, no rust. He ran his finger over the ruby in the pommel. Even it was intact.
“Where is it?” Boucher asked. “Where is the treasure?”
“You already know.” Landyn turned away from him, moving toward Raven as he stared at his sword. The ruby in the pommel reflected the candlelight. Landyn ran his thumb reverently over the alternating colors of leather on the handle. He had thought he would never see his sword again.
Boucher’s lips pursed and twisted in anger. “La Rochelle. You fooled all of us. I would have thought better of Templars.”
Landyn met Raven’s stare.
Pride and satisfaction shone in her bright blue eyes.
Boucher shook his head in disappointment. “It seems a waste to have killed her father for nothing.”
