Free Spring's Fury by Denise Domning

claimed in all seriousness. "See, look here." He stretched out his arm and shoved up his tunic sleeve to display its bony length. "There is naught to me but pale skin and bone."
    Gilliam shook his head. "I see an arm like any other. You do not convince me."
    "Are you blind?" Jocelyn retorted in outrage.
    "Jocelyn!" Gilliam's bellow shook the walls around him as he leapt to his feet and glared down at the boy. "Has someone forgotten to teach you manners? If you dare to address me so rudely once again, you'll not only hear my wrath, you'll feel it as well."
    Jocelyn's eyes were great round circles in his chalky face. His lower lip trembled. "My mother would not like it if you beat me," he warned in a reedy whisper.
    "Fie on you for standing behind your mother's skirts," Gilliam chided, his voice as hard as his sword. He was impressed that the boy had not dissolved to tears. "If you choose to misbehave, be man enough to take the punishment for your actions. What sort of knight hides behind a woman? A coward, that's what."
    For all his fear, the boy was not yet beaten. "I was not fated to become a knight. I was meant for the Church," he protested quietly. "It’s not fair that you force this upon me."
    In Gilliam grew the certainty that behind the odd outward demeanor there lurked a normal lad. It was greatly reassuring; his chore would be to peel back the layers and reveal the child hiding beneath behaviors others had given him.
    "You’re right," Gilliam conceded, "it’s not fair that your father and brother have died. That is a terrible thing. Nonetheless, you are now Freyne's heir and must become both knight and lord. Take heart, lad, you do not go alone into this future. It’s my job to help you become the man you must be."
    Jocelyn blinked away his tears; the sullenness in his face dimmed a little. "My pardon for my rudeness, Lord Ashby. I hope you find your wife." It was a quiet, but gracious concession.
    "Why, thank you, Jos, but we must find her together," Gilliam said, very pleased by what they had accomplished in so short a time. He again turned his attention back to the road.
    The soldier and his little party were halfway between wall and forest now. Apparently, the gatekeeper had been satisfied with all their answers. The man yet led his horse, choosing to walk alongside his woman. Even from here Gilliam knew they smiled to each other as they chatted.
    Head down, the tall lad held himself apart from them, his gait stilted, as if his feet hurt. With so impoverished a master, it was more than possible he’d outgrown his shoes and there wasn't coin enough to replace them.
    Gilliam stared idly at them until they entered the forest. Only after they'd disappeared behind the screen of barren trees did jealousy rise in him. That simple soldier had what he could never own: a woman who cared for him. He shoved that impossible wish back within him, where it belonged.
    "Who are you watching?"
    Gilliam turned in surprise to find Rannulf standing behind him, now dressed in his mail and surcoat with spurs and sword buckled on. His musing had been so deep that he hadn't heard his brother climb the stairs.
    "A mercenary and his woman," he replied to the man who was in truth more father than brother to him. "Jocelyn, greet my brother, Lord Graistan. He was too angry to meet you earlier. Lord Graistan,this is my new squire Jocelyn, heir to Freyne."
    To Gilliam's astonishment, Jocelyn thrust out his hand and met Rannulf's gaze. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lord Graistan," he said politely.
    "And I yours, son," Rannulf replied, gifting the lad with a smile. "As part of my brother's family, you become part of mine. Well come. Now, I must borrow your lord for a moment." With a nod of his head, Rannulf released Jos's hand to walk a short distance along the wall top. Gilliam followed. "So, Gilliam, are you still set on keeping that ruined manor and a wife who wishes you dead?"
    "Rannulf, I have had enough of this discussion.