Free Throne of Llewyllan (Book 2) by Ben Cassidy Page A

the second floor of the palace. As he approached the door, he detected a faint smell of incense.
    Without hesitating Bathsby swung open the heavy wooden door, then stepped inside and shut it softly behind him. The room was large, with a canopied bed, a large mirror on the wall, and a long veranda that was open to the night air. Candles burned on the floor, and the smell of incense choked the room. In one corner a raven sat perched in brass cage, ruffling its feathers. A woman was kneeling on the floor between the candles when Bathsby entered, and rose quickly as the door shut.
    “Lord Bathsby,” said Bronwyn with a faint smile.
    The nobleman strode forward, and glanced down at the wafting flames of the candles and the small bones and feathers that lay at their center. He backhanded the young woman across the face, knocking her back onto the bed.
    From the corner the raven squawked loudly. Bronwyn gasped in pain, holding her face.
    Bathsby reached down and grabbed her by the neck. He pulled her to her feet. “I saw you in the hallway,” he said. The nobleman tightened his grip. “I told you to stay away from him.”
    Bronwyn struggled for breath, but managed to smile all the same. “Why Lord Bathsby,” she struggled, “if I didn’t know better I’d say you were jealous.”
    He stared at her for a moment, his grip still tight. Then, almost dismissively, he released her neck, and turned towards a chair against one wall.
    Bronwyn collapsed onto the blankets, rubbing her bruised flesh and gasping for air.
    Bathsby whipped his cloak to one side, and sat comfortably in the chair. “And what is all this?” he sneered as he waved his hand at the objects on the floor. “More of your devilry, I assume?”
    Bronwyn rose to her feet, smiling again and wiping the tears of pain from her eyes. “Your lordship is too kind.”
    He sighed and closed his eyes. “Lord Whitmore has made his move.”
    Bronwyn leaned against one of the posts of the bed. She rubbed her neck again. “I know.” She threw the nobleman a piercing look. “You were foolish to have waited as long as you did.”
    Bathsby opened his eyes, and stared coldly at the dark-haired woman. “It was worth the risk.”
    She moved towards the candles. Her white dress floated behind her. “No, it wasn’t. Your plan was doomed to failure from the beginning, Bathsby. I told you that.”
    The nobleman’s face twitched with anger. “If that accursed bounty hunter I hired had done his part things would have gone well enough. I could have rescued the princess and been back here a week ago.”
    Bronwyn sighed, and brushed her black hair back behind her ear. “And what difference do you think it would have made, Bathsby? Even if you had come home as the sterling hero who saved the King’s daughter from certain death you wouldn’t have secured the throne.” She leaned forward, her amber eyes blazing with intensity. “You’re a commoner , Bathsby. The King will never forget that.”
    He rose to his feet, and clasped his hands behind his back. “And you think I can?” He turned to the open veranda. The gentle night breeze caught his cloak. “Did you hear him tonight? A ball tomorrow in honor of those ruffians she picked up.” He shook his head angrily. “I’ve done more than any man alive to put this kingdom on the map, and still all anyone can see is my bloodline.”
    Bronwyn slid up behind him. She slid her arms across his chest. “ I see more than that,” she said softly. “I know what kind of a man you are, Bathsby, even if no one else does.” She gently kissed the back of his neck. “You will rule Llewyllan.”
    He turned. His eyes fell on the candles and incense burning on the floor. “Is that what you have foreseen?”
    Bronwyn leaned back, her amulet catching the light from the candles. “The Seteru cannot tell me the future,” she said, playing with the lace at his throat. “You know that.”
    Bathsby sniffed. The corner of his mouth turned up.