Free Word and Deed by Rachel Rossano

Chapter One
     
    “You are weak, Verdon. You kill like a
woman!” I glared at my half-brother.
    His narrow shoulders tensed. A hush fell over
our late father’s great hall. The dog lying before the hearth
groaned loudly.
    Sick with anger and helplessness, I gloried
in his reaction. He condemned me to a living death, marriage to a
man some considered unsettled. Still I could evoke fire in my
frigid sibling. I knew his soft places where the words would sting
most. Rage prodded me on.
    “Your mother would writhe in her grave if she
saw the slovenly murderer she brought forth. It would be better for
her if you never lived.”
    “Hush, Verity, hush.” My old nurse’s hands
trembled where they gripped my arm. Ealdine served more as a
companion now that I reached adulthood.
    She had good reason to cower. My cheek still
stung from Verdon’s last loss of composure. Wisdom urged me to let
go of the burning emotion in my gut. Yet the anger demanded I rant
or sob.
    I refused to give Verdon the satisfaction of
tears.
    His fingers closed on the hilt of our
father’s sword. My sword. Our father promised it to me, yet Verdon
refused me even that. I unleashed the final blow.
    “Our father would rise up and call you coward
for this act. Selling me to a mad man will not silence my
tongue.”
    The impact of his fist snapped my head back.
I welcomed the pain. It grounded the anger, distracting me from the
agony in my chest that began with our father’s death. The grief
ached with every breath those moments I missed him most. I was
helpless without Father’s protection, a fact never more clear than
now.
    Another blow, this time behind my right ear,
rocked my sense of the earth. The crack of my skull on the stone
echoed, preceding searing pain. A fog blanketed my senses. The hand
I lifted to my scalp came away red.
    “Foolish move, Ravenridge.” Sir Hirion’s face
wavered above me. I blinked, but he remained out of focus. “Lord
Silvaticus paid for a living bride, not a corpse. If you wish to
remain in Silvaticus’ favor, she should be well and whole when he
arrives.”
    “A fortnight is time enough for her to heal.
I have not left a lasting mark on her features, only her head. He
will see nothing amiss. Now lock her in the tower. I grow weary of
her lies.”
    Rough hands lifted me from the floor.
Ealdine’s pleas for caution grew distant as my senses finally
faded.
     
    ~~~~~
     
    Dust and taste of mold assaulted my tongue.
The convulsion of my sneeze morphed into a cry of agony. I ached as
though trampled by a horse.
    “Hush, love, calm.” Cool hands touched my
face and then stroked my wrists. “Hush. The pain will pass.”
    “I …” My attempt to speak grated my throat
raw. Unbidden tears pricked at my eyes. I would not cry. “Wat
…”
    A cool, wet rim pressed to my mouth. I drank.
The fluid tasted ill. I would have spit, but I needed the
moisture.
    “It rained last night, and I didn’t have a
clean vessel. Your brother allowed you water, but not enough,”
Ealdine explained. She offered the cup again. I drank with
gratitude. Once my thirst was quenched, I pushed it away.
    “I was foolish.”
    “Child, words spoken in anger are rarely
wise.”
    “The apology will hurt my pride thrice the
agony of my headache.”
    “Humility takes strength to cultivate.” She
spoke the words of my sire.
    “Aye.”
    I opened my eyes slowly. The light, filtered
through the lattice over the window, pierced my eyes. I grimaced up
at the wooden ceiling beams.
    “The tower again?” I croaked. Only three
months ago I stared up at these beams. Then I gave little thought
to my surroundings, too ill with grief to care. Father newly dead,
Verdon, drunk with power, banished me and my whetted tongue.
    Then his marriage plans gained me the
reprieve. Dangling like a lure before all the rich and powerful
nobles, I had smiled and kept my tongue silent. Lords and knights
alike evaluated me with bored or lecherous features. They placed a
price