Free Duty: a novel of Rhynan by Rachel Rossano Page B

with
you.”
    “You forgot the caravan.”
    I blinked at him in confusion.
    “The rest of my men are coming with the caravan of
supply wagons.” He rubbed his face distractedly.
    “I am not ready for this.”
    His soft chuckle brought my chin up. “Those very
words circle my thoughts twice an hour, sometimes more.”
    “How do you quiet them?”
    “I ignore them. I was put in this position for a
purpose. I plan on doing the best I can under the circumstances.”
He offered me a hand. “Come, this is no place to eat. Let us wait
for Aiden and Antano in the hall.”
    We met our meal in the passage. The servant women who
carried it led us back to the great hall. They settled us at one
end of the head table. Mutton, pork, and a rack of lamb roasted to
perfection lay on a bed of cabbage. Beet leaves, carrots, and a
selection of dried apples accompanied a fresh loaf of bread still
warm to the touch. My mouth watered at the smell.
    We set to work on the bounty. But before I managed
more than a handful of bites, the outer doors burst open.
    Five men tromped in the room. Rathenridge led them up
the center of the room. I spotted Antano near the back. Two hefty
men pulled a resisting Jorndar to the foot of the dais.
    “Kneel!” Rathenridge commanded.
    Jorndar spat at him.
    Antano kicked the prisoner’s legs out from under him.
“Show proper respect to your superior, fool.”
    Yelling curses, Jorndar attempted to gain his footing
again, but the two men restraining his arms kept him on his knees.
After a few moments of struggling, the guards simply pinned him to
the floor, face down.
    “Sir Jorndar, you are accused of sedition against the
crown. How do you plead?”
    “How do you think, idiot? Not guilty. You shame the
house of Loineir and Irvaine. Your mother should have smothered you
at birth. I demand my right to plead my case before the king. I
refuse to accept any ruling you hand down, pretender. You hold no
law over me.”
    A twitch in the muscle below Irvaine’s left eye was
the only indication he heard Jorndar’s rant. He stood frozen in his
effort to contain the anger burning behind his dark eyes. His left
hand clenched his eating knife in a death grip.
    Dissatisfied with the reaction of his target, Jorndar
changed his tactic. Straining his head around so that he could just
see me out of the corner of his eye, he grinned crookedly. “How
does it feel to be bedded by the son of a demon and a witch? Didn’t
know his mother was a witch did you? Watch him. He will remove your
soul and feed it to his master. He is well versed in the ways
of--”
    Irvaine lunged forward.
    I caught his arm, throwing my weight against his
momentum. “No.” My intervention spun him around so I encountered
the full blast of the fury behind his mask. He trembled with the
effort, but he didn’t turn back toward his tormentor.
    Rathenridge unceremoniously laid his foot over
Jorndar’s face. The man’s ranting dissolved into a wordless
yowl.
    I reached up to caress my husband’s face, anything to
distract him from the liar on the floor. “Whatever you want to do
to him, you will regret it later.” Thankfully it helped. He focused
on my features.
    He closed his eyes, breathed in, and held it. He
rested his forehead against mine. His hands encircled my head,
thumbs resting on my cheekbones and fingers buried in my hair,
destroying the remains of my braid.
    Antano spoke. “I request permission to throw him into
the dungeon, my lord.”
    Without opening his eyes, Irvaine replied. “See that
you treat him humanely.”
    “My lord?” Antano’s protest filled every tone of his
query.
    “Give the king no reason to doubt my character,
Antano.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    Irvaine waited until only Jorndar’s protests faded to
a distant murmur. “Thank you.” His dark eyes, still glinting with
rage, seemed to soften as they met mine, warming to a different
emotion.
    “Not a bother,” Rathenridge replied, throwing himself
into the nearest